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centrally-unplanned · 9 hours ago

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(Generally agreed, just to take one thought) I also read that substack post - I was planning to write this post, saw someone else had *also* written an essay comparing the two studies, and went "ah fuck the jerk stole my moves" and then got off my ass and finally wrote it lol. I read it after - and he isn't totally wrong, people definitely like "easy" stuff over avant garde stuff.

However, the author of that post was def a judgemental elitist about it, treating these preferences as lesser than. I think that is silly, and more importantly it is kind of wrong. People like easy stuff *when it is a painting on the wall of a doctor's office* because who cares. But when they actually invest in something they do get higher standards, they start looking for more.

Scott liked that ancient ruin piece because he thought it looked nice for 2 seconds. That is fine, I see a hot asuka-in-a-goth-miniskirt jpeg on my dash, I like it, no toughts head empty. This is real art appreciation. But Scott *also* is going to read a 2nd Edition Dungeons & Dragons splatbook about Ravenloft and like the beautiful watercolor-style setting art that brings it to life. And if that art was stylistically jumpy, had details that don't match the text, and kind of just looked like every other thing he's seen, he wouldn't like it as much. Average people do pick up on these things.

People will probably use AI tools to make something good like that someday, sure, I don't know! But it isn't what the above studies are testing (and at current tech will definitely be human/AI hybrid).

There are two big "AI Art Discourse" events of note recently, which I thought were interesting: ACX's "AI Art Turing Test" and the new paper on "AI Poetry Beating Human Poetry". Both of these I think reveal the shape of "what is AI art for", and also say a lot about how these results were utilized in discourse.

To take the latter first, some academics quizzed people on some poetry and had these results:

We found that AI-generated poems were rated more favorably in qualities such as rhythm and beauty, and that this contributed to their mistaken identification as human-authored. Our findings suggest that participants employed shared yet flawed heuristics to differentiate AI from human poetry: the simplicity of AI-generated poems may be easier for non-experts to understand, leading them to prefer AI-generated poetry and misinterpret the complexity of human poems as incoherence generated by AI.

More human than human poems! This certainly seems impressive - and it is. You couldn't have gotten these results ~5 years ago. But that maybe doesn't mean as much as you might think? Because here is the opening half of the winning "Walt Whitman AI" Poem:

I hear the call of nature, the rustling of the trees, The whisper of the river, the buzzing of the bees, The chirping of the songbirds, and the howling of the wind, All woven into a symphony, that never seems to end. I feel the pulse of life, the beating of my heart, The rhythm of my breathing, the soul's eternal art, The passion of my being, that burns with fervent fire, The urge to live, to love, to strive, to reach up higher. I see the beauty all around, the glory of the earth, The majesty of mountains, the miracles of birth, The wonder of the cosmos, the mysteries of the stars, The poetry of existence, that echoes near and far

This fucking sucks. Straight up 2/10 poem. Did this bitch seriously establish the world's most predictable rhyme scheme only to try to rhyme wind with end? You had one job that you chose for yourself, and you screwed it up! This poem has been written a million times before, and says nothing - the Miley Cyrus lyrics of verse.

The reason this won is, yes, because AI tools have advanced heavily in the past few years. But it is also because it is being tested on a dead art. No one cares about poetry - certainly not the survey respondents:

We asked participants several questions to gauge their experience with poetry, including how much they like poetry, how frequently they read poetry, and their level of familiarity with their assigned poet. Overall, our participants reported a low level of experience with poetry: 90.4% of participants reported that they read poetry a few times per year or less, 55.8% described themselves as “not very familiar with poetry”, and 66.8% describe themselves as “not familiar at all” with their assigned poet.

"Or less" is doing a LOT of work there; "yeah I read a few nonfiction books a year" oh sure, totally. 90% of these respondents haven't read a poem that wasn't displayed in the end credits of Minecraft since high school. No one does, poetry as a medium is essentially a relic. That isn't an insult to poets, by the way! There is no shame in being a niche. Not everyone can have the reach of hentai doujin artists; the community is small but they get a ton out of it. But you can't take the art of the community and expect that art to hit outside of it.

This survey didn't ask people to evaluate art; it asked people to evaluate their stereotypical impression of an art they don't care about. It was ~600 people hired off a website, they banged it out ASAP and moved on. This is not to invalidate the results; I am not actually claiming that "real" poets would have scored much better? Maybe, I don't know - that just isn't very relevant.

Let's swing to the AI Art Turing Test results to get more into why. Again, AI art is absolutely "art" in the sense that it is able to pass the test handily. You have to be head-in-the-sand at this point to think that AI can't make an impressionist painting a la the "most liked" art in this contest:

I have seen the "well real paintings have physicality this is a jpeg" discourse points and the cope couldn't be more real - 99% of art consumption in the modern world is digital or at least prints, let's get you back to bed grandma. But I did find it pretty funny that Scott noted this AI piece as one he particularly liked:

Because it is nonsensical, right? All that "faded paint", how was it originally painted - just bucket splashes of red and blue? What are those random doors, the random stairs going nowhere on the sides, the vague-nothings engravings? Scott just didn't care about that - he liked the vibe, right? Ancient ruins, epic scale. It isn't a coincidence that the Impressionist art did the best - current AI tools are always impressionist, they have an idea of the vibe and invent the details in between. In Impressionism that is the whole point.

Now the trap is to go "REAL artists can tell because of this or that" because idk, the tools might get better, they might fill in more and more details. The real revelation here is that you don't need the tools to get better - visual art isn't so different from poetry. Most people don't pay attention to it all that much. You see thousands, thousands of pieces of art a week; you probably don't even realize how many. Do you really care if the fading paint makes coherent sense on a billboard ad or a doctor's office wall painting? So much art that is made is "industrial" in this sense - it has no need to be good. Only good enough to fulfill its utilitarian role. In these fields AI absolutely is going to Take Your Jobs in some form, and already is (though imo not a ton of them). And it won't really bother most people. This can go pretty deep - I promise you people are "utilizing" AI porn right now. They are ~appreciating the details~ way more than is typical, the product is working.

All this works until it doesn't, though. When it is an art book by a favourite artist whose vision you want to pour over, learning that all the individual details were just made by AI completely defeats the purpose, right? Imagine reading a book of these poems. Outside of the novelty, "AI is the point" factor you would rather watch infomercials on repeat, I can't imagine a more pointless use of my time. "Reading arbitrary poems" is never fun, regardless of the quality of the poems. Most people don't care about poetry! The reason you care is that you care about the poet, and what they want to say. You read poetry with context, it being inserted with intent into the pages of a manga, at the end of a video game, because you like the artist and follow them on twitter. The quality of the prose isn't more important than that.

Which is a harsh limit for all of these kinds of tests. They essentially aren't testing art, right? You do not ever get paid twenty bucks to sit down and read a dozen poems and score them. That has no bearing on how you would actually ever learn to care about a poem. Which doesn't make AI art useless or anything, more that these tests will very quickly run into their limits of what they can meaningfully tell you. The actual bar is "creating something someone cares about". From that lens, I fully believe hybrid methods that privilege artistic intent are currently working and will improve. But I think for "solo" AI art getting that to work is going to be complicated.

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 days ago

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"Catching the fox." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif!)

Jesus only caused problems since you, Daryl and Rick met him during a run, but that doesn’t prevent you all from having a little fun. (Even if you come home empty-handed)

A/N: Based on what is probably the funniest episode of "The Walking Dead" to me. I wrote this a while ago but I'm posting it for my friend, who actually finds this funny hehe Sorry if this is long and boring :c Spoiler alert: Jealous Daryl is my favorite Daryl! I hope you like it!

“So… hunky-dunky. Uh?”

In front of you all, an empty, silent road is always pleasant. Nature wasn’t lost after the apocalypse, not completely, and although the green color of the grass disappeared slowly with the passage of time, Mother Nature still retained her place in the world. Sitting by the window in that big truck full of food, the wind pushes some strands of your hair as you breathe in the fresh air. And, sitting in the middle as Rick drives, Daryl glances at you as he checks Denise’s list.

“Don’t…” He says, warning you, making you chuckle. It was the word that Eugene used when he gave Daryl his map, always using fancy ones. At his side as he drives the truck down the hill, Rick chuckles, too. “Why ya never gave me a list?”

You watch the list in his hand and then, you look back at him.

“I think it's impossible to get a high definition TV with surround sound system so I can watch the games again like in those old days. You know, the ones that were on TV before the world went to hell.”

Both men look at you with a funny look, and you look back at the window as the truck approaches that abandoned gas station on the left side of the road. There are papers and trash everywhere, and Rick parks near the gasoline pumps. All of you get out, but since the silent street is free of any walker, you walk around while Rick goes ahead to check the store door.

“We had that shit in our apartment? That round sound thing.”

You chuckle before turning around towards him, smiling innocently.

“Surround sound system, love, and no, we didn’t. We were always fooling around so we never really had time to watch the games. Remember?”

Your words catch him off guard, and his innocent eyes look at you until he understands what they mean. A second later, the boldness shines in his blue eyes and he closes the distance of a few steps between you two. Daryl encircles your waist with his right arm and pulls you gently towards him, his forehead resting against yours.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me, sunshine?”

You shake your head, softly.

“No, but why?” You whisper. “Does that turn you on?”

“Really?” Rick complains, suddenly, closer than you thought he was. “Now?”

You chuckle pulling away from your husband.

“Sorry, bro.” Says Daryl, taking his arm off of you.

Rick looks at you two with a sarcastic expression and raises an eyebrow.

“I regret coming with you two.”

But he is joking and lets it go quickly.

On the back of the place, Daryl walks over to the black machine lying in the middle, noticing it was a vending machine turning upside down. Although Denise said it wasn’t of the utmost importance, he wants to go back to Alexandria with a gift for Tara, just because Daryl understood the feeling of trying to do something nice for another person. So, minutes later, Rick rolls over the machine with a chain attached to the truck, and as he gets out and walks towards you two, the glass shows that the interior is full.

“It’s soda and Candy.” Rick says while Daryl removes one of the chains. “Why the trouble?”

“It ain’t a trouble.”

But suddenly, out of nowhere, a man turns around the corner and pushes Rick on his way out, raising his hands in the air as Daryl and Rick take their guns to aim at the stranger, your own hand holding your weapon hidden behind your waist, as a reflex in the face of danger.

The bandana that covers half of his face shows only his pretty eyes.

“Hi.” He is agitated, as if he has run for a long time. “I was just running from the dead.”

“How many?” Daryl asks while Rick steps back to look at the corner of the lonely place, searching for any walkers close by.

“10. Maybe more. I’m not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running.”

Daryl doesn’t trust him, and he keeps pointing at him with his gun.

“Where?”

“About a half a mile back. They’re headed this way. You probably have about…” He wiggles his head, looking for the right number. “11 minutes.”

The distrust doesn’t go away, but Rick is the first and the only one who lowers his weapon.

“Okay, thanks for letting us know.”

“Yes.” The man breathes through his bandana. “There’s more of them than us. Right? Gotta stick together.” He looks at Daryl, due to his gun still pointing at him. “Right?”

Although that stranger appeared from nowhere, he finally lowers his gun, too.

“You have a camp?” The man asks.

Maintaining the safety of Alexandria was the main thing, and being selective with the new people you all let in was the first rule until you all knew they could be trusted.

“No.” Daryl says.

“Do you?” Rick asks.

The man thinks about it for a second.

“No.” He finally says, and then, he looks at you standing next to them. “It’s just you two, with a woman?”

Before you realize what he meant, Daryl raises his weapon quickly, his hand tightening around it in anger.

“Ya want me to shoot ya, asshole? She’s ma wife and yer gonna say yer sorry.”

The man breathes in and Rick looks at him.

“You better say it now before he shoots you.”

Before looking at you, the man looks at Daryl who was still aiming him with his gun, so the new one does it. You don’t think what he said was an insult, but it was better to follow the situation calmly before Daryl shoots him for real.

“I’m really sorry, madam. I didn’t mean to offend you.” You move your hand in the air to minimize the misunderstanding, telling him it was okay. “Well… sorry for running into you. I’m gonna go now.” He turns around and starts walking, talking over his shoulder. “This is the next world; I hope it’s good to you, guys.”

Daryl and you share a confused look as Rick watches the man walk away.

“I’m Rick, these are (y/n) and Daryl. What’s your name?”

The man turns around again and pulls his bandana down.

“Paul Rovia. But my friends use to call me Jesus…” He extends his arms out, casually. “You pick.”

“You said you didn’t have a camp.” Rick answers back. “You are on your own?”

“Yeah.” He looks at you all with a sudden confidence. “But still, best not to try anything.”

However, Daryl doesn’t seem impressed, or intimidated.

“Best not to make threats ya can’t keep, either.”

“Exactly.” And the man starts running out of there.

“How many walkers–” Rick tries to ask, but Daryl cut him off.

“No. Not this guy.”

However, Rick makes his question anyways.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Sorry! Gotta run. You should too.”

And he disappears around the corner.

Running into new people was still strange, but that situation was a new kind of strange, and hard to understand too.

“What the hell was that?” Daryl asks.

“Yeah. He was clean.” Rick nods. “His beard, it was trimmed.”

“And he was way too confident to be just by himself.” You say.

Rick nods again, because if the man is strange to you both, then that is more than just a coincidence: something else is happening.

“He didn’t have a gun, either.” Daryl frowns, looking down the path Jesus took.

“We could track him.” Rick put away his gun. “Watch him for a while. Get to know him more. See if he’s really alone. Maybe bring him back.”

“No.” Daryl complains, his voice always low and husky. “That guy calls himself Jesus.”

But then, a noise from the front of the place attracts everyone’s attention, the thunderous sound of tires against the pavement.

“Shit.” Daryl says when he realizes the truth. “He swiped yer keys. Didn’t he?”

The moment you all get there; the place is still empty, with the truck full of food moving away up the hill.

“Sorry!” Jesus yells as he drives away, taking the vending machine with him, too.

The three of you stop in the middle of the road, watching with frustration as the truck goes away under your eyes.

“Shit.” Rick says.

The vending machine leaves a path on the middle of the road, like breadcrumbs to track down the thief, until you find it halfway on the way. Daryl opens the case to secure Denise’s sodas for Tara while Rick and you catch your breaths after running up there. The strands of your hair stick to your forehead, while the beads of sweat begin to fall on theirs.

“This is a special request from the doctor.” Daryl says, showing Rick the soda can, opening one to give it to you.

“Hey…” Rick breaths and takes the broken one Daryl gives him. “Whatever she wants. She saved Carl’s life. We didn’t know her, and she turned out to be all right. And If there’s still people out here, and they’re still people, we should bring them in.”

“What? Like this guy?” Daryl points to the road Jesus left.

“No, fuck that guy.” Rick shakes his head and looks inside the machine for something.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, your mind full of thoughts about what had just happened, but without saying anything, at least until you can formulate a coherent opinion.

“What’s on your mind, (y/n)?” Rick asks when he sees you looking at the ground.

“Well, I just think that…” You doubt if you should share with them what you are thinking, but it is a waste of time while the truck is still moving. “It’s nothing. We should keep going.”

You try to take a few steps but Daryl stops you reaching out his arm.

“Hey.” He says softly to you. “S’okay, jus’ say it.”

You are not naive; you know how that world works now. Not only were the alive against the dead ones. That life was a battle against other people as well. However, not everything was black and white. Or it was?

“I don’t say that what he did is right, but no one steals for pleasure these days, so maybe he did it because he needs it, too.”

Rick wiggles his head slowly, half of him giving you the reason because that is true although nothing apologized what that man did.

“So what?” Daryl frowns, his temper rising again. “Would ya jus’ let him go with our stuff?”

His personality is like a roller coaster, full of constant ups and downs, but luckily, you know how to handle it.

“Don’t talk to me like that, Dixon, and it was you who said I could share my opinion. But I am not saying we should let him go just like that. Hell, no.”

Daryl gives a step back, confused by your sudden change of mood, just like his own.

“So?”

You frown back.

“The truck is ours. And, if in this world the strongest wins, that will be us. So, we will get it back.”

The force in your eyes and the way you look at him catches him completely. But Daryl is no longer shy, and although he likes your privacy as a marriage, he can’t help but tangle his hand in your hair, softly.

“Since when ya are this ballsy, woman?”

Playing, you push his hand away.

“Fuck you, Dixon. I was like this long before I met your ass.”

“I really hate you both.” Rick says, making Daryl chuckle.

“Sorry, bro. S’jus’… she looks so hot right now.”

You chuckled as Rick raises an eyebrow.

“It’s because we ran until we got here. Now, we should get going.”

At first, you try to be understanding to the request of both men asking you to wait behind the bushes while they surprise the stranger, who just finished fixing the tire of the truck parked in the middle of the road, away from the danger posed by Paul, or Jesus, or whatever he chose to call himself, but you can’t help but compare him to a fox, somewhat elusive, almost slippery as he managed to dodge the blows of Rick and Daryl, who were hit in the stomach and pushed against the truck, respectively.

So, when Jesus turns around, he stops dead with your gun pointed at his face, his hands in the air.

“You would really shoot me in the face just for a truck?”

You tilt your head, taking the safety off the gun your dad gave you for protection before dying.

“No. Not in the face, but maybe in the legs just below the knees so you stop being so slippery.”

He takes a deep breath.

“You wouldn’t do that.”

Behind him, Rick and Daryl raise their own weapons, making you lower your own.

“Oh, trust me, pretty boy, I totally would.”

But suddenly, before you can say more, a walker comes out of the bushes, grunting at you all.

“Do you even have any ammo?” Jesus asks, but Daryl and Rick are already tired of him, and both shoot the walker at the same time. “Okay, again, are you gonna shoot me over a truck?”

“There’s a lot of foot on that truck.” Rick says. “The keys. Now.”

In the end, Jesus gives them the keys and Rick ties his hands and feet up to leave him there, on a side of the road.

“The knots aren’t that tight.” Rick says to him. “You should be able to get free… after we’re long gone.”

For his part, Daryl growls when he sees that some of the soda cans had crushed during the fight, with all the content dripping from his backpack.

“Maybe we should talk now.” Jesus smiles when Rick walks away.

“Nah.” Daryl walks pass him by and makes you walk with him to the passenger seat. But first, he stops to shake a can and throws it at Jesus. “Here. In case ya gets thirsty.”

When you two get to the passenger seat, Daryl goes up first, and though he has to move to let you go up, too, he takes you by the waist to help you go up to sit between his legs. You are a little surprise by his action, but he just closes the truck door and chuckles as Rick moves the keys around his finger.

“You were right, (y/n).” He smiles at you as he starts the truck. “We are the strongest ones.”

As the truck begins to move, Daryl leans back against the seat and shows his middle finger out the window.

“So long, ya prick!” He yells at Jesus.

The loud music in the truck accompanies you all the way. As you lean your arm against the window frame, the wind makes your tied hair move back, in a soothing and peaceful way. Daryl’s right hand continues to rest against your waist beneath your t-shirt, holding you against him while everything around is still fine.

“He ain’t that pretty, y’know?” Daryl says quietly over the music, after a long moment of silence.

You frown, turning slightly to look at him.

"Are you kidding with me? Jesus...” But you laugh when Daryl frowns, even though you just said the name of the son of God, not that stranger. "That's not what I meant!"

He snorts, But before he can answer back, Rick talks first.

“Hey, look at that.” He says, pointing something on the road in front.

A barn. When you get close, the even path changes for an unstable one as you all enter the barn’s lawn, but, out of nowhere, there is a blow that comes from the roof, getting your attention before theirs.

“You hear that?” You ask as Daryl lowers all the volume of the music.

“I think that son of a bitch is on the roof.”

And then, Rick is really tired of that fox.

“Hold on.” Rick steps on the brake and the truck stops abruptly, throwing Jesus through the air until he falls in front of you all.

But then, he just gets up on his feet, and runs away. It is ridiculous. It is almost comical the way Rick drives to chase him down the field, but in the end, it is Daryl who has enough of him.

“Motherfu-” Daryl stops himself to take you by the waist, and he moves from under you. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Before you react or before Rick could stop the car, Daryl opens the door and gets out of the truck to chase after Jesus on foot.

Rick drives near them as you sigh.

“Sometimes I can’t believe I’m married to that man.”

Rick laughs and tries to move the truck to block Jesus, but that elusive fox is more agile, so Rick steps back the truck as Daryl and Jesus swing from side to side in the middle of the field, waiting for one of them to take the first step.

“We should clear the way for them.” Rick says when some walkers around the place start to move too close to them.

You open the truck door, moving away from it, pulling the knife from the sheath of your waist.

“We came to a conclusion, asshole!” Daryl yells at Jesus, still in the middle of the place when he runs away, so Daryl looks at you two before start chasing him, again. “I got him.”

Some walkers were tied up with around another truck, and you and Rick make them fall when they manage to break the rope free.

Back in the truck, Jesus opens the driver’s door and tries to get in, but Daryl grabs him from his jacket and tries to pull him out.

“Come ‘ere, ya little shit.”

No one sees it coming, no one pays any attention, but a walker comes up to Daryl from behind, walking dangerously until it enters Jesus’s view. So he raises a gun, watching Daryl without moving.

“Duck.” He says.

Daryl understands it at once and crouches. The bullet flies over him and enters directly into the walker’s head causing it to fall. Daryl looks back and studies the body on the ground before turning back to look at Jesus.

“Thanks.” Daryl breathes out and punches him on the face. “That’s ma gun! Come ‘ere.”

The shot pierces your ears and Rick’s, causing to both of you to look at the truck in the distance, and you two run to them. Daryl tries to pull Jesus out of the truck, but Jesus knocks it into neutral, and the vehicle starts rolling into a pond behind. Daryl jumps out of the truck and Jesus followed him, but his head gets hit with the door and he passes out. When Rick and you finally reach the place, you watch Daryl moving Jesus with his boot as the truck sinks.

You sigh heavily when you all see the last of that truck before it disappears forever before everyone’s sight.

The new car you all get is old, ironically, but Rick keeps driving through the silent road in the middle of those huge trees. From the backseat, Daryl pushes Jesus who was still pretty unconscious, but his body continues to fall back on Daryl’s shoulder.

“Is he your new best friend?” You tease him, making Daryl groan. “I’m getting jealous, actually.”

“Be quiet, woman.”

“I told you I could go in the back with him.”

“Yeah?” He says. “Over ma dead body.”

Just to annoy him even more, Rick moves the car so that way Jesus’ body would fall back on Daryl. He growls again, pushing Jesus far from him as Rick drives back to Alexandria.

That same night, Daryl and Rick walk down Alexandria Street back to their homes after leaving Jesus in the basement. He was fine despite the hit, and by now they just had to wait for him to wake up in the morning.

As they arrive at Rick’s house first, it is time to say goodbye.

“It is pretty stupid of us to go out there. Isn’t?” Rick asks as he goes up the stairs of his porch.

“Yep.” Daryl says walking away. “Do it again tomorrow?”

“Yep.” Rick answers watching him go. “Tell (y/n) to come.”

“Hu-uh.” Daryl waves his hand to him.

Two houses away, Daryl goes up the steps to the porch and opens the door to his house. The only light comes from a lamp on the table in the living room, shining with an amber color. Daryl closes the door behind him and watches you come out of the kitchen.

“There’s a couple of sandwiches in case you’re hungry.”

But he just walks towards you while you stop in front of the stairs. You are tired but it had been a funny day in spite of everything, and you laugh when Daryl wraps his arms around your waist to lift you up.

You hold yourself with your hands on his shoulders, your legs around his waist.

“Nah. Jus’ want some time alone with ma wife.”

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon twd

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kirkodiletears · 3 days ago

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This used to be a part of a post, but I decided to make it into a separate one, because it speaks of crusual things for understanding SVSSS, it's plot and it's characters.

As I found out recently, there's a huge misunderstanding going on in the English-speaking segment, probably dew to an English translation of SVSSS (only a speculation, I myself never had this problem, although I read in several other languages as well, so I can compare) concerning the fact whether or not PIDW was originally planned by Airplane as a yaoi with bingqiu as an OTP. (Spoiler: yes, it was). Some readers are mislead by two quotes, that they take as a contradictory, which in truth, they are NOT.

The first one is from a Chapter "The story begins". It is the last chapter of the novel, after this the extras start. And this particular chapter is a culmination: this is where the truth is reveled. Like in a detective story, where we finally find out, who the killer is. This meant to become a real "bomb", that makes a reader go WOOOW!!! And this is THE KEY for understanding the whole story: the plot and the characters, especially Luo Bing-mei (and Luo Bing-ge). And it speaks about the original INTENTIONS of the Airplane, that he betrayed in order to please the crowd and that came true in the universe of the System. (original scrapped outline(c))

The second quote, from the extras, on the other hand speaks of an EXISTING PIDW, (original outline(c)), that he actually wrote, but never finished, because he died and woke up in the Universe of the System. And it gives us a glimpse into the way he planned to finish it.

The first quote, from the final chapter:

Shen Qingqiu looked him up and down. “You don’t look crushed at all after all this foolish messing around ended up completely changing your own novel.”

Shang Qinghua said, “You can’t say it like that ah. Maybe you think it’s just all foolish messing around that isn’t worth a damn, but for Bing-ge, your foolish messing around is probably the meaning of this entire world.”

... holy s***, Great God Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky was able to say something like that?!

Shen Qingqiu was terrified. “F***. You didn’t turn back into the original character, did you?”

Shang Qinghua said seriously, “Don’t be like that. I’m also a young person with literary ideals. Of course, I have my own reflections and emotions.”

Shen Qingqiu laughed coldly. “What literary ideals? How come all I saw in the original work was shameless fanservice?” Not to mention his hand speed that could produce ten thousand words a day, and the courage to even occasionally explode with twenty thousand. If he didn’t have such equipment, there was no way 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 would have been able to hold out before it was serialized!

Shang Qinghua spread his hands. “You think that I always wrote shameless content that lacked any integrity from the very start? I’ve also written belles-lettres4 before, but they were all unpopular, so I had no choice but to go down a path that catered to the masses. It must be said that writing novels is a very lonely undertaking. Rather than writing a stallion male protagonist who’ll be stereotypical in the end, it’s more in line with my philosophy for writing to create the current Bing-ge━this kind of weirdo male protagonist whose character is a bit more complicated, has contradictions and conflicts, and has a rough destiny.”

Shen Qingqiu concluded, “So, your philosophy for writing is to write about gay guys?”

Shang Qinghua: “Do you look down upon gay male protagonists? Works of art and artists all like to create gay guys. Belles-lettres favors gays, do you know that?”

He waved his arms wildly and passionately. “Cucumber Bro, if the System hadn’t chosen you, this faithful die-hard reader, perhaps the plot wouldn’t have deviated so thoroughly, thoroughly to the point that it deviated all the way back to my original scrapped outline. Even though the me back in reality━who couldn’t endure the loneliness and was under financial pressure━chose to finish writing 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》 according to other people’s preferences and what they found cool... now, all thanks to you, essentially everything that I wanted to write has already unfolded in front of my eyes. Cucumber Bro!”

He patted Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders with deep sentiment and solemnity. “You... are the chosen one; as for my career, I have no more regrets!”

... why did it sound like the System and this world were both products of Shang Qinghua’s resentment over scrapping that outline and going with what was mainstream?

Shen Qingqiu, who shamefully became this kind of “chosen one”: “Who’s your faithful die-hard reader?”

Shang Qinghua waved his hand and one-sidedly declared his victory. “I’m not going to talk to you; you’re an anti-fan.”

Shen Qingqiu was about to say, “I’m only an anti, not a fan!” when he suddenly heard Shang Qinghua starting crooning something like, “Emotions are warm, kindness hard to bear, lips moving together, desires turning the evening to the next morning, never resting from dawn to dusk.” The crucial point was that melody, which sounded extremely familiar to the point that it made Shen Qingqiu’s hands and teeth itch. He pointed at him and said, “Shang Qinghua, what are you singing?”

Shang Qinghua continued to croon. “The warmth of emotions makes gratitude hard to bear. Lips to lips, locked in a kiss. Let this night linger ‘til tomorrow’s dawn. Day after day, night after night; never to end. Will tomorrow be another today? When ‘til Zheng Yang reaches its zenith? As Zheng Yang ascends, the voice of Autumn stirs. A sheathless Xiu Ya, a spurt of cold nectar. Tragic pleas amidst choked sobs, thus in vain; for he rises again5...”

Shen Qingqiu was in disbelief. “F*** you—why don’t you just try and sing another line?”

Shang Qinghua said, “Great Lord Shen, why aren’t you listening to what I’m saying? You must never go around casually f***ing people. Bing-ge will go crazy. I’m telling you, this Resentment of Chunshan is equivalent to Shi Ba Mo6. You two are the legendary national homos, do you understand? I have no problems with you shutting me up, but ultimately it’s useless. You can’t possibly make all the countless people in the world shut up...” (NB, Ch 81)

The second quote, from the extras:

【 Basic completion of Proud Immortal Demon Way’s original outline achieved (slight deviation in romance plotline); objective complete. Retrieving function to return to original world; download complete. Activate Return Home sequence? 】 Basic completion of the original outline? That he agreed with. All the holes that needed to be filled had been filled. But this “slight deviation of romance plot” wasn’t quite right. Bing-ge was now fully gay; how could you say that was a “slight deviation”? Ah, fine, fine, in fact, in his original outline, Bing-ge hadn’t even had a romance plotline; he had been doomed to fade away, alone and unaging forever. If you insisted on adding a romance plotline, all right, that was whatever, so putting aside all the System’s rambling…this meant he could return to his original world?! (Seven Seas, Ch. 26)

Basic completion of the original outline and filling it's plotholes - THIS is what's talked about in this quote! Not the scrapped original outline!

The English translation, which I only read recently, in my opinion is not very clear, in comparison to, for example, Russian translations, and not just the most popular version by Псой и Сысой, for ex: there are more than one, and they all pretty much nailed it. 感情线 used in original (that's what, apparently, caused the doubts for some reason, in spite that the quote itself absolutely clearly speaks of 《Proud Immortal Demon Way》’s original outline, the one big "error of a novel", that needed to be redressed, and not the scrapped original outline that never saw the daylight) itself refers to a "romantic plotline". So the author himself tells you, that his original Bing-ge had none. But how come? Why is that? Bing-ge, as we know, has got a huge harem, he for sure cannot be the case of dying alone without love!.. Or can he? Apparently, this is exactly his fate - no love. And the Airplane, the way he planned the original scrapped outline, knows better than anyone else - there's, well, none. The Protagonist's harem is nothing to do with romance whatsoever (see the quote below from the forum as an example, what the readers of PIDW themselves think of the relationship between Bing-ge and his harem). It all has to do with protagonists coolness and power and getting everything, including all the women, because he is super powerful and he is the center of that universe. It's about power, it's about lust, it's about influence and control, and showing, who the real boss is. But not love or romance. PIDW is not a romantic novel in a slightest: its a third rate pornography and a ode to toxic masculinity, so distasteful and disgusting, that the resentment of it's author with his own creation was powerful enough to create the whole new universe (The System) just to correct it! And this particular quote speaks of Bing-ge not having ANY SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP, LOVE. Псой и Сысой for translating 感情线 in this particular case use much more explicit and profound "заслуживающие упоминания эмоциональные привязанности" ("the emotional connections worth mentioning"), rather than abstract "romantic plotline". Because the only significant person in his life pushed Bing-ge away. (And we know, who that person is, thanks to the System Universe - his shizhun.) Romance has nothing to do with the amount of partners he fucks - they are not of any romantic or emotional significance for Bing-ge. This is how his relationship with the harem is described by the PIDW reader's forum in the novel:

"Airplane really doesn’t know how to write romance plotlines, best if he just doesn’t. I feel like Luo Binghe doesn’t have feelings for any of his wives, he just wants to use them. And I can’t see any of those women with real moving emotion for him. "(NB, Ch. 73)

So - no romance for Bing-ge in PIDW, the Airplane didn't grant him this privilege and happiness. And yes - the ending for the tyrant he's become in PIDW is not happy in a slightest.

So, binqui did not appear out of nowhere, and yes - it has always been there from a beginning, in the core of everything. Implied. This is not only canon: it is the exact essence of it, the base, the foundation, which explaines everything that happens in the novel and even beyond - in PIDW, where the mighty protagonist that has everything, except the only one thing he really needs - the love of his shizun - is doomed to an eternal unhappiness and loneliness.

#svsss #svsss meta #mxtx svsss #bingjiu #luo binghe #shen quingqiu #shen jiu

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committingcrimes-2047 · 1 day ago

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HNNNG GUESS WHOS BACK

(I wrote this way too fast because i needed to write this down before i writers block kicked back in so there are probably spelling mistakes, grammar issues (theres always grammar issues with my writing LMAO) goodluck!)

I'm imagining Reader, who is a traveler who goes overseas often. They go to Piltover and meet Vander and decide to join their cause, becoming a merchant to get extra money to bring in.

Reader is getting ready to set sail with their crew and Vander pulls thrm aside just before they leave and gives them a promise ring. Once they do set sail, Reader waves at Vander until hes out of sight.

While they were away, Vander, Silco, Connol and Felicia helped him plan an actual proposal. When Reader did finally return, they were expecting to be proposed to the second they got off of the ship but to their surprise, they were just welcomed back normally. After the next few weeks, Reader stays suspicious but in the end figures that he's going to wait until after they beat Piltover.

Once Reader is no longer suspicious, they set the plan in motion.

One day, Felicia invites Reader out and they walk around topside. Eventually, Reader is dragged into a shop and Felicia pretends to look around before "spotting" an outfit that Reader also likes. Felicia convinces them to buy it, and they do. They head back and Reader styles the outfit and while they were changing, Connol told her that everything was ready and they both sneak out.

While Reader and Felicia were out, Silco and Connol had been cooking. Reader faintly smells their favourite food as they walk out, all dressed up and see that the only thing waiting for them was a note saying that Felicia had to go.

Before Reader could change Silco shows up and asks them to help him gather some supplies or something. He insists that they don't need to change and they head out, grabbing bits and pieces from various shops before heading in a direction Reader doesn't recognise and before they can ask about it, Silco hands them a blind fold and asks them to put it on. Which they do, now incredibly suspicious (and slightly concerned).

Silco leads them along until they stop and he walks off, and Vander tells them to take off the blindfold, which they do. Immediately seeing that they're stabding ontop of an old building, a gorgeous view of Piltover and the sky, the sun setting, casting a beautiful glow over the city. Two chairs and a table, covered in their favourite food and drink and fairylights strung up all around. And Vander, dressed nicely and looking uncharacteristicly nervous.

They sit down, eat and talk and eventually the sun has set and they're witting in comfortable silence when Vander breaks it and asks them to stand up. Weeks of practising what to say go straight out the window and he stutters his way through a small speach before he gives up and pops the question, kneeling and holding up a small box.

Reader stares down at him in shock, completely silent- everything he just said processing in their hand and as Vander goes to stand up- akwardly apologising- he gets tackled down by Reader, who happily says yes.

...

NOW IMAGINE

Every year, at the same time, on the anniversary of his proposal. Reader puts on the same outfit, grabs their favourite alcohol sits in the same place they sat on that day. Mourning the life that could have been.

I hope you guys know, I looked into my drafts to posts this and i found this

I have no memory of writing this

#arcane x reader #vander x reader #I am tweaking out rn #I hope you guys enjoyed this #It took me so long to find a image of him that i liked #i lied #I like all of them but i wanted to find a specific one that made sense for the story #I couldn't find one #This is the best youre gonna get be grateful #I am sorry #I love my mutuals so much #If youre reading this i love you

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svsssfanonarchive · 1 day ago

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ANNOUNCEMENT: SVSSS Fanon Archive, Grand Reopening 2025

After several months of hiatus and a lot of stress on my part, I'm going to officially be revamping and reworking this blog, hopefully in a way that resolves some of the issues with the previous version and makes things a bit more streamlined.

What to Expect:

Changes to post format will be a big one, as well as an actual schedule for posting. The ranking system will be simplified and updated. Additionally, in line with the url update, there will be some changing to the way things are worded throughout the blog.

When to Expect It:

I'll slowly be working on the changes as I have time and energy, but my hope is to have the reworked SV Fanon Archive blog ready to go by the beginning of 2025.

More details about specific changes below:

The Biggest Change: Tone

When I first made this blog, I tried to take a sort of humorously-disparaging tone as an homage to our beloved 绝世黄瓜 (Peerless Cucumber), which is reflected in the tone of the blog intro and pinned post. Since then, I've come to realize that there are a decent number of people to whom the humorous nature is lost, who see this blog and think that the intention is to stir up fandom wank-- and while most of these people understand after explanation, I've decided to try to limit that misconception to begin with.

That is why I've implemented a title and url change on this blog-- I was primarily thinking of rhythm and humor when I chose the original name and theme of "Fanon Exposed," but it turns out that the word "exposed" has a more negative connotation than I originially assumed, which misrepresented the stance I wished to take on this blog. Because of that, I will be updating the blog title, intro, and making a new pinned post that hopefully is more clear in terms of tone, to prevent any more knee-jerk reactions.

In my posts, I'm not trying to stand on a high horse or present a "gotcha," but genuinely look at and analyze the novel and share information that fans may have forgotten or missed or mixed up through engaging with the established fandom, and to figure out where certain ideas come from.

In addition to these changes, I will be updating existing posts to remove the "Fanon Exposed" tagline, and instead simply titling them as the topic they discuss, with a rating below the title.

That brings me to the next change:

Streamlined Rating System

I realized as I wrote for this blog that sometimes it was very difficult to decide where to sort a topic between supported, neutral, unsupported. Sometimes, a topic didn't fit cleanly into one of the categories, or the assigned category was far more subjective than was useful. Since I want the ratings to be more of a first-glance understanding of topics, I'm going to be changing the way that I rate the posts as follows:

CANON - There is direct support for the claim within the novel itself. Depending on the topic, things that are canon via MXTX's interviews may also be sorted this way, but the revised version of the novel (the version that was published by pinsin studios and subsequently used for the 7seas translation) will be the main determiner of canon.

FANON - There is no direct support for the claim within the novel, BUT there is also nothing that says it is not true. This encompasses what would have been considered unsupported, neutral, AND supported in the old ranking-- anything that is not canon to the novel, but not refuted either.

CONFLICTING FANON - There is evidence within the novel that directly refutes this claim. Claims such as "Luo Binghe was not abused" or "Yue Qingyuan frequently calls Shen Qingqiu 'Xiao-Jiu'" will fall into this category-- either things that have a directly stated contradiction, or a very strongly implied contradiction within the novel.

AMBIGUOUS - New rating, for claims where they are still not especially clear where they lie on the canon-fanon scale. For any "ambiguously" rated subject, further analysis and viewpoints are especially welcomed (though they are still welcomed on other ratings), with the goal being to sort as many such posts into an official category as possible, or alternately to provide as many potentially-accurate viewpoints as fans are willing to share. This is also to further delineate this blog as a fanon archive, and a more aggregate source of meta posting.

Important note: Because SVSSS has been unlocked on JJWXC and is being edited, I will be waiting for more information about that and for the edits to be finished before deciding whether to take the new version or the older version as canon, or to compare and contrast them. I don't yet know how much will be changed, whether the story will change significantly or whether it is more of a matter of editing to appease the censors, so for that we will have to wait and see.

Posting Schedule

Before, I never really had a schedule for my posts, and sometimes put out one each day, or one a week. Now, I have many things I'm working on and am not so deep into SVSSS fandom as I was before, though still interested in both the novel and this blog. Instead of posting more frequently and sporadically, I will try to maintain a fixed schedule of one new fanon post per month, to be posted on the first day of the month. This doesn't necessarily include other types of original meta posts (such as "Canon Examined" posts or simple ask answers), which will not have a distinctive schedule and will come out when I feel like working on them or have the time to do so.

Which brings me to...

Blog Content and New Post Types

So far on this blog, I've had two types of post: "Fanon Exposed" and "Canon Examined." In the reworked blog, these posts will continue to exist, though slightly reworked, but I also hope to include more additional meta written by others via reblog. Going forward, all of the posts on this blog will be sorted into the following types and tagged as such:

#FANON ANALYSIS - The original post type, formerly "Fanon Exposed," in which a fanon or presumed fanon is measured up against the novel's text, analyzed, and rated. These posts will have a fixed format in the future, with hopefully clearer delineations between which parts are canonical and which are my own more subjective analysis. Any topic for Fanon Analysis will be one that was sent in via the askbox. These posts will simply be titled as "[CLAIM BEING ANALYZED]". More on the updated format later.

#CANON EXAMINED - A more in-depth look at a topic in canon (for example, my piece on the pre-canon PIDW timeline). This type of post will not have a fixed format, and should be taken as primarily a personal analysis and interpretation rather than a delineation of canon vs fanon-- but within these posts I will always include as many quotes and sources as possible to still make it clear what is from the text and what is my interpretation. These posts will be titled as "Canon Examined: [TOPIC]" and may or may not be topics that have been sent to the askbox. There will be no fixed schedule for these posts, and I will make them as the inspiration strikes.

#QUICK QUESTIONS - Any small question sent to my inbox that doesn't warrant a full analysis post, or doesn't quite fall in line with the previous two categories. These will be answered directly from the inbox, rather than posted separately. A lot of these might involve various cultural details or translation questions-- I will answer these to the best of my ability. I am Chinese (Originally from Mainland), but due to various life circumstances, I've ended up with a certain disconnect from my native language and culture. Though I am working to bridge that gap personally, I am not completely confident or comfortable to be considered some sort of consummate cultural authority. I'll provide the answers I know to the best of my ability, but welcome further extrapolation or explanation from others less disconnected than I, and cannot guarantee that I will answer all questions of this sort. This also applies to other types of post.

#MYRIAD PERSPECTIVES - This is where the "archive" role of this blog really starts to come in. This tag will be for reblogged meta written by others. However, I will be very, very selective as to which meta I reblog, which must meet the following requirements:

Canonicity claims MUST be sourced, with relevant quotes included within the body of the post. The post cannot just say "The Mobei Clan have hereditary ice powers" if that claim is a significant part of the analysis, but must also include the quote from the Holy Mausoleum chapter that verifies it.

Cultural claims MUST be indicated that they come from someone within Chinese culture, or otherwise be linked to sources that confirm the claim. I'll reference these against my own knowledge (and CNet as well where possible), but I can't claim to know or be completely sure about everything. The idea here is to provide accurate and thorough information that can be verified by any reader, rather than asking readers to take things at face value.

Translation/Linguistic claims MUST be accompanied by a complete, detailed analysis of the passage both in the original and translated text. A post can't just say "the idea of Shen Yuan being sickly is due to a mistranslation and author's note," but must also include the passage in the original chinese, the author's not in question, and an explanation of the phrase 混吃等死 and its connotations. Again, I will reference these against my own knowledge and CNet where I can, but unless the translation and error is fully analyzed and explained, I won't be reblogging the post.

In general, for me to reblog a meta post to this blog, it should be in as much detail, and as thorough as one of my own posts. These requirements also apply to any correction or debate added to my posts. I will not respond to refutions that do not source their claims.

Due to time constraints, I will not usually be seeking out meta posts to reblog myself. If one happens to cross my dash, I may reblog it here, but if you find a piece of particularly good meta that falls in line with these requirements, please send a link to the post via my inbox. Please DO NOT tag me in a reblog or reply on the post. Reblog recommendations must be sent through the askbox for me to have a look at them.

#FANDOM EVENT - This category of post has nothing to do with meta or analysis, but rather, due to this blog's substantial following, I am more than happy to signal-boost fandom events. These include exchanges, zines, group projects, fans looking for collaboration, etc. as well as any significant fandom news. Preferably, send a link to the post or news to my askbox to have me reblog it-- but I will also reblog event and announcement posts if i am tagged in them. Fandom events MUST be SVSSS centric, or mxtx/danmei/cnovel centric in general where SVSSS is relevant in some way for me to reblog them.

#FIC SEARCH - Another category that does not involve meta or analysis. I am willing to post asks that involve searching for a specific fic in order to use this blog's reach to help fans find what they are searching for. I will limit these fic searches to one per week, however, so as not to flood this blog. If sending in a fic search, please start your ask with "Fic Search:" before describing the fic (so that I can easily search my very very full inbox to find fic search asks). All fics being searched for must be SVSSS fics, or SVSSS crossovers.

These will be the main/only types of post on this blog going forward. Once in awhile, I might use it to promo my own things for the sake of reach, which will be tagged as "#off-topic posts" for easy blacklisting. I will not be reblogging or posting any non-fandom asks, donation drives (aside from (rarely) my own), or current-events topics on this blog, both because I don't have the time or energy to see if things are legit, and because this is meant to be a fandom space away from real-world issues.

And finally...

The Fanon Analysis Post Reformatting

This is something that I've noticed and had issues with in the past-- while I try to keep my analysis more objective wherever possible, there are necessarily parts of my posts which are "my interpretation" rather than a distinctive, fully-objective answer. While any analysis I post here is informed by canon or other factors rather than being mere headcanon, it is still subjective by nature, and whether readers take or leave my interpretation is up to them.

I'm not going to stop adding my own analysis to my posts-- but I am going to try to make it easier to divide direct canon statements from my own interpretations.

The old "Fanon Exposed" posts didn't really have a set format of any sort, and tended to be a bit rambling-- and while that can flow nicely, it can also muddy the waters for those looking for a quick explanation. So, from here on out I will be using a distinctive format for every fanon analysis post:

Title

Ranking

"What does the text say?" - relevant quotes, with very limited analysis or explanation where necessary. Essential translation details will also be included here if specifically relevant to the topic, otherwise they will appear later. Sometimes, for posts rated "fanon" especially, there will not be any reference in the text-- in that case, any adjacent notes will be included (for example, in a post about Shen Jiu having a sweet tooth, there is no reference to that specific claim in the text-- however, there are some details about Shen Yuan's snacking habits as Shen Qingqiu, which will be included in this section for the sake of relevancy, discussion, and clarity). If I miss an important quote or passage on something here, please tell me in a reblog or reply, so that I can add it to the post!

"My interpretation" - where I analyze the quotes provided and make connections for myself-- striving for "informed interpretation" rather than headcanon, but not "distinct canon" by any means. Take it or leave it. More important translation details will go here, and if a reader wants to provide an alternate perspective, this is the part that would be debated.

"Fun Facts" - Small details that have little to do with a claim's canonicity or fanon analysis, but I thought would be neat to include anyway. Often little details that may have been missed (see my post on Mobei-jun's blue eyes for this, where I bring up the chrysoberyl/cat's eye stone and what that might mean) or small cultural references. Typically, just a fact that is adjacent to the actual topic or claim being made that I include because it might be interesting to know.

"Headcanon Ideas" - Now this is where "my own headcanons" come in. Nothing here needs to be considered canon in any way whatsoever-- see for example my post on heavenly demons' zuiyin (erroneously called "huadian") and the idea that demons might wear similar ornamentation as a sort of reference to the real-life presumed origin of huadian. This is not canon at all, but simply a headcanon suggestion/in-universe explanation for fanon at most or a fun idea at best. Anyone is welcome to use these little ideas with or without credit, but you can also completely disregard them as well, and they shouldn't be considered part of canon.

Every post might not have all of these parts (especially the "fun facts" and "headcanon ideas" sections), but I intend to keep to the basic structure at least. That way, everything that directly involves "canon" is at the top, above the cut and easily readable to allow readers to make a decision based on their own readings, with a descending "relevance to canonicity" as you go down the post if you're interested in my specific take, interpretation, and ideas.

I may be reformatting/rewriting some of my old posts in this format as well-- for the most part, it will simply be an edit to the old post, but if there are substantial updates or changes to the overall rating and interpretation, I may make a new post instead.

Conclusion

Those are all the major changes I intend to put in place here, unless I'm forgetting one or two details. Hopefully, this blog will be better for it-- but I'm interested in any feedback anyone might have on these updates, or things I may have missed. Feel free to comment on this post if you have something to say-- and I look forward to the reopening!

#admin post

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venomhound · 1 day ago

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Hazbin Hotel - Signs they Got a Crush: Vees DLC

I wrote two of these characters along with the original post then just went 'ah fuck it' and decided to make a Vee dedicated post. So here are some dumb headcanons about how Valentino, Velvette, and Vox act when they start getting crushes.

My other 'Hazbin Characters Crushing' post can be found >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; Valentino's section is a giant sexual harassment lawsuit; other then that, they all just really suck at this whole 'feelings' thing (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Valentino ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Valentino also falls into the 'not subtle' category. Not like he actually tries or anything. As far as he is concerned, its just a matter of time before you like him, if you don't already.

What little concept of personal space Valentino had goes right out the window. Your space is his space now.

Constantly has one of his hands on your shoulder, an arm wrapped around your shoulders or waist, or is just generally circling you like a predator. If for some reason he can't touch you, he sure as heck isn't leaving your personal bubble.

When you sit down, Valentino sits right next to you, with your sides/hips touching. That is, if he isn't just pulling you to sit in his lap instead. Thinks his lap is the best throne in the land and is always patting a hand on his thigh, offering for you to sit there.

The other thing Valentino does constantly, regardless of if you accept or not (or even if your comfortable with it), is ask you to come "supervise" his porn shoots.

You get the feeling its less 'supervision', and more he wants you to be there for him to tease and/or use as a toy during said shoot.

If you actually work in the porn industry, Valentino will say the reason he wants you to be there is so you can help him 'teach' some of his actors. If your not in the porn industry, Valentino will say he just wants some 'outsider' perspective on his films. Its all bullshit obviously. Valentino just wants you in his lap looking pretty while his dick is hard.

The other big thing (which I've mentioned before but its just a hard headcanon of mine okay), is that Valentino starts sweet talking you in Spanish. When he gets comfortable with someone, it just becomes natural for him to start slipping back into his native language.

Most of the time, its Valentino just mumbling something teasing under his breathe in a language you cant even understand. Other times he is a bit bolder and will whisper something absolutely nasty in your ear. You have no idea what he actually said, but Valentino's tone and proceeding chuckle definitely made you shiver.

Valentino will also start using more casual petnames like cariño (darling, sweetie) or gatito/gatita (kitten) when talking to you. Valentino is very partial to using these types of names with those who he endears in general. If your wondering, yes; he has called Vox 'my gatito' before.

SUMMERY: 🦋 Is always touching you in one way or another 🦋 Wants you sitting on his lap 24/7 🦋 Invites you to come ""supervise"" his porn shoots 🦋 Starts speaking to you in Spanish more; uses Spanish nicknames for you

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Velvette ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

She talks about you. Alot. Velvette won't even realize when this starts to become a habit. She just... kinda does it. Velvette will just randomly bring you up in conversation and things will constantly remind her of you. You two dont even have to interact much and Velvette will still find ways to tell stories about you.

This is why everyone is going to know about her little crush before you do. Velvette hardly praises anyone, not even the other Vees. So her talking about you like you two are besties makes everyone turn their heads.

This one might seem condescending at first, but trust me, its just Velvette not knowing how to flirt to save her life. Velvette will start complimenting you but at the same time trying to fix you. So it comes across as some weird backhanded compliment.

Some examples of what Velvette will say when she sees you: 🎀 "Oh! Your hair is SO on point today, darling! Hmm... You know what outfit I think would look even better with it?" 🎀 "That is SUCH a cute hairpin. And EARRINGS!! But--uh. Huh. I think a lower necklace would look better, don't you?" 🎀 "That jacket really suits you! But you need a little something to bring out your eyes... Your eyes always shine when you have something blue on ya."

Stalks you on social media. Kind of a given. Velvette tries to be super careful about it and not give herself away since she is literally the social media queen. She is too scared to actually tag you in anything but will comment on your posts once and awhile.

Velvette will also go through your entire timeline by the way. The moment you start to suspect something is up is when Velvette accidentally likes a post from 5 years ago.

Or it happens when the two of you are talking one day and Velvette references a post you made as if it just happened. You give her a weird look and tell her that post was from like, three years ago. Velvette's normally blasé demeanor cracks and she has to excuse herself to go scream.

If your also a social media person or creative in anyway, Velvette will ask for your feedback constantly. She will send you drafts of her posts before they go live and ask what you think. If Velvette is feeling particularly brave (or is drunk enough), she might send you a fake thirst trap post for some ""feedback"". ¬‿¬

She will use you alot for brainstorming, particularly at night or when she is drunk. Velvette will just text you a bunch of raw, unfiltered ideas for posts or new design ideas. It doesn't even matter if you respond. You'll just wake up some mornings with 100+ unread messages. Yes; Velvette does expect you to go through all of them and tell her what you like and don't like.

I think, deep down, Velvette wants a s/o who isn't just a romantic partner, but a business one too. A real partner in crime if you will. So her constantly throwing ideas at you and asking for feedback is her way of testing you. Seeing if you can match her creativity and energy.

SUMMERY: 🎀 Brings you up in casual conversations with other people. Constantly gets reminded of you. 🎀 Gives you compliments; but tries to fix you at the same time 🎀 Stalks you on social media. Has your entire timeline memorized. 🎀 Asks you for feedback on her work and posts; uses you as an idea filter and tests your creativity

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Honestly? The most surefire way you can tell Vox cares about you is that he makes room in his schedule for you. I'm not even talking just in a romantic sense here. If Vox cares about you at all, he will find time for you. Otherwise he will just be like 'I'm busy, shove it'.

The way you know if you've gone from a person in Vox's life that he values to him actually being head over heels for you, is if you suddenly are more important then his schedule.

When you text him 'are you busy?', instead of him asking why and seeing if he can fit you in somewhere, Vox just fucking drops everything, rushes over to you, and asks what you need.

Mr. ""Progressive"" here has no idea how modern flirting works. So he defaults to what he knows; old school 50s courting. Which honestly results in him desperately pining more then anything.

Jumps at the chance to pay for anything and insists on it. This is mostly due to residual toxic masculinity from the 50s. Back then the man always paid for everything and the biggest asset in dating was your ability to take care of a partner (aka, money).

So yeah. Vox is going to pay for everything and is going to use every opportunity he can to flex his wealth. While this behavior comes across very differently in todays culture, in Vox's head he is basically going 'I can take care of you so hard baby (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧'

Takes any opportunity to be around you. Even if you two don't talk much (or at all), just being in your orbit is enough for him. Watches you from afar and takes mental notes of everything. Especially what makes you laugh. Vox swears that when he hears you laugh, he starts glitching out.

He also loves to see you working. Vox thinks your concentrated face is absolutely adorable. He will often opt to just watch from afar instead of approaching you and interrupting what your doing.

You know how I mentioned Vox notices everything? I mean it. He is hyperaware when it comes to someone he is crushing on. You will casually mention a show you like one time and Vox will bring it up again months later when he finally found the time to watch it.

In my opinion, this is the biggest, most glaring flag that is going to tip you off that Vox has feelings for you. Because it will just throw you for a loop sometimes. Vox will get you something in your favorite color, he shows up with your favorite drink, or the perfect coffee, and you don't even remember telling him that information.

So you side-eye him and ask how he knew the exact way you liked your coffee. Vox starts sweating bullets and lies that you two had a conversation about the 'proper' way to drink coffee. See, he remembers it specifically because he thought it was hilarious; its not surprising you don't remember it! It wasn't actually that special...

Of course, Vox is way too embarrassed to tell you that the real reason he knew the way you liked your coffee is because he remembered your exact order from the one time you two got coffee together weeks ago.

Vox is honestly just a puppydog when he is crushing. He really wants your attention but has no idea how to actually get it without fucking it up. And he is so afraid of fucking it up.

SUMMERY: 📺 Sets his entire schedule on fire if you need him 📺 Spends money like its water. Never brings up you paying him back or the cost of anything unless its to tell you not to worry about it. 📺 Always seems to be around you. Watches you from afar 📺 Remembers everything; notices small details about you

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FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

For an adorable Vox love realization, check out >>this post<< by @bad-and-drawn-that-way

I also highly recommend >>this post<< by @gargoy-ross on what each of the Vee's ideal s/o would be like

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altcvnningham · 12 hours ago

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of a demon in my view

william “case” calderon x f!reader

summary: when the team return to the rook after visiting the science facility in kentucky you hear a bump in the night. good thing case is back to protect you, right? (takes place after the 'emergence' mission. inspired by this post. please heed the tags!!) read on ao3

tags/cw: nsfw, dubious consent, f!reader, angst, (case is) under the influence (of the cradle), rough sex, size difference/kink, biting, choking, case is hung, animalistic/primal behaviour?? i guess?? reader is confused but loves case too much, case is obsessed w reader, aftercare (ish), author goes mad with power at the use of italics wc: 4.8k

a/n: umm sorry to case + the case enjoyers, i wish i’d written something softer for him first... trust that my first full nsfw fic on here would be icky nasty dubcon w poor confused reader. promise she likes it. since there’s not a whole lot of case content to base his characterisation on, i hope this suffices!! shoutout to lovely lacie @dearlydevoured, case's actual irl gf who put up w my brainrot while i wrote this <3 title from “alone”, edgar allan poe.

You wake gasping.

The bedroom is pitch black, offering little but a sliver of moonlight to orient yourself, cutting the room split in two as you try to discern what the hell that sound was. A slam, booming like thunder and carried in with the draft and the dust. It takes much to hear it across the old house, the Rook as big as it is barren, and it takes much more again to wake you. But whatever it is, it had, and your body jolts in its instinct to get up and investigate.

But as you do, you stop. You’re half a leg out of bed and a finger upon the nearby flashlight when you catch something in your periphery. You don’t even look at it head on- the figure in the open door. Just stare ahead at the wall and freeze, trying to clock if whatever stands there has spotted you sooner than you’d spotted it.

Any other night, Case would have awoken before you. Hell, he would have dealt with the problem himself before you’d even stirred. But the space in the bed where he usually sleeps is cold, and it had been all night- they’d left for Kentucky a couple days ago now, and you hadn’t received much word in between. Only a call from Marshall on the way back, to keep an eye on Case when he returns. That he wasn’t quite right.

But you know Case better than anyone. You know he already isn’t really quite right as he is; you never minded it, the odd pauses between words and the bitten tongue, like he’s always holding something back, or the distant way he sometimes seems to regard you from across a room, before the colour floods back to his face and he finds the courage to smile. Whatever warmth you possess encourages a similar feeling in himself, and Case had found himself sweet on you quicker than he would most. He sees in you a kindred spirit, maybe. A missing piece. Enough that when he sleeps next to you, the screaming stops. Most nights.

But whatever it is in the door, you’re almost sure it isn’t Case. Almost. Until—

Breathing. Quick, shallow, raspy. For a second it doesn’t even sound human, until you recognise it- the same sound when he wakes from a nightmare, the same panting in your ear when you hold him tight and let him ride it out. The fear, primal, pacified by your patience and care. Your heart tugs- it’s him. You know it’s him.

With that knowledge alone enough to brave your panic, you turn your head to the open door, and regard the figure stood in it with an embarrassed laugh.

“Oh, god, Case. It’s you. Jesus,” you huff, a hand clutched to your chest. “Scared the shit out of me.”

A smile, sheepish, spreads over your lips as he just stands there in the doorway, filling it with his shadow. Tall, stocky, broad-shouldered as he is, arms held stiffly at his sides as he just stands there, shapeless face cast in darkness. His hulking figure eclipsing the moonlight trying to come in from the hallway windows. You can’t see his expression, only the whites of his eyes, and though it’s hard to tell at first, they look to be open wide. And staring at you.

Your smile slowly drops. You sit up.

“Case? What’s wrong?”

But he doesn’t talk. Doesn’t say anything. Just- fucking- just stands there- just you and him, locked eyes, for a fleeting moment feeling like prey and predator at a stand-off in a too-open clearing. Vulnerable, is the feeling that creeps up your spine and staples you there, still and rigid in the bed.

There’s a pause. He blinks. You think he snaps out of whatever daze he’s in, because he comes into the room and kicks the door shut with his heel, but where he’d usually sigh, sit on the bed, and undress, he just moves straight towards you. Unhurried, but urgent. Single-minded in his pursuit.

Case’s knee dips into the mattress, sinking under his weight, and though you aren’t scared you feel the urge to move back into the bed, hitting the headboard in your scuffle.

“Case, you’re still dressed,” you worry, voice lilted like a question. He must suddenly notice, or perhaps hear your concern, because he glances down at himself, though decidedly mustn’t care at all- even as you go for the zipper of his windbreaker yourself, he’s wholly intent instead on closing in on you. Scarred hands curl around the headboard as he leans in to kiss you- no, to- smell you? He noses your hair, behind your ear, licking a greedy stripe up the side of your neck. You do your best to ignore it, focusing your quivering fingers upon the zipper, and somehow you manage to push the jacket off him and onto the floor. His hands are immediately on you then, dug into the back of your hair and cradling your skull as he kisses sharply along your jaw, your cheek, the corners of your babbling mouth.

“H-hey, um,” is all you can manage as you’re jostled by his movements. He isn’t rough, isn’t even hurting you, but his fingers dig into your arms and pull at your hair in a way that’s unfamiliar, uncharacteristically desperate, like you’ll slip into dust any second. It’s enough to make you wince. “Case- Case, c’mon. Talk to me. Whatever’s wrong, we can—”

“Want you.” Is all he says.

“What?”

“Want you,” he repeats, an animal grunt in an octave you’ve never heard before. It thrills you as much as it frightens you, but you steel your focus, more concerned than you are anything else. That excitement that tingles at the base of your spine is unimportant, insignificant in the grand scheme, when he’s acting so strange.

“Case, I think you should sit down a sec,” you say, trying gently to pry his hands off you, but he won’t budge. He’s stronger than you- much stronger- and before you can open your mouth to protest his hands are on your waist, pulling you out of the bed and stringing you out atop the blanket like you weigh nothing. “Wh- oh!”

You land with a hiccup, disoriented as he climbs on top of you, and in your befuddled state you’re half worried about shoes on the bed as he wedges a leg between yours, coarse grey cargo pants chafing your sleep-soft thighs. A tiny yip makes its way out of you as you bear the sudden weight of him- as is always so stifling, yet now seems suffocating- a thick scarred forearm braced in the pillow beside your head as he buries his nose in your neck, not quite kissing but breathing you in, huffing like a dog, something primal, savage.

It’s so unfamiliar, and yet so like Case; never having seen him this way but always sensed, known, that there lingered in him something like this, some growling thing seated deep inside just waiting to get out, biding its time and snarling. It frightens you, but not enough to fight it off. Just enough to lay there and let whatever thing that’s reared its ugly head in him feel you out, get its bearings of the girl trembling beneath him.

You catch a scent on his shirt then, tart as it wrinkles your nose. It’s a strange smell, acrid, not entirely unpleasant but foreign to you- like chemicals or detergent, coppery like blood but lacking its warmth. It clings to Case’s clothes like something parasitic. You breathe it in, and strangely it has a texture, almost like smoke, but whatever it is your body rejects it, tangled in a cough as your vision blurs. It’s enough then to just let him close over you as he likes, pressing your face to his hair instead as he mouths at your neck, starved.

You’re burned by the heat of him. Heavy as he envelopes himself around you, greedy hands moving down your body to touch and grab and grope, undecided whether he wants to be gentle, whether he can be, calloused hands like sandpaper as he slides them under your shirt. Your own hands try to turn his jaw so you might see his face and deduce the expression into an answer, a reasoning for his behaviour. But every touch you give has him shuddering beneath you, near enough purring as he careens his cheek into your hand, lapping up your warmth.

Case feels like he’s on fire. Tunnel-visioned. Drunk, almost. He’d cooled off whatever substance he’d breathed in that facility on the flight back to Bulgaria, but part of it still sticks to him like sap, simmering and seething all red and angry in a place inside he can’t reach. He’d claw it out of himself if he could, if he had the guts, but he swears he could smell you from the fucking front door- and by then it was over, decided for him before he even knew what he was doing. Something else took hold then, brutish and hungry, overcome with the base animal need to stalk, hunt, fuck.

His hands run down your body, kissing wetly into your open palm. You whimper frantic and confused as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down your legs, falling frail as petals somewhere off the bed. You gasp as he pushes himself forward, hips bullying your legs apart, while he peels back your shirt to knead your breasts and latch his mouth upon a perked nipple with a moan.

“Hey, slow- slow down,” you rasp, barely a whisper, dying on an open-mouthed sigh as a spike of pleasure needles you. You can’t help it. It’s him, Case, always so soft with you, so slow and gentle, now pawing at you like he’d sooner die than go without touching you. Your hands knot into his hair as he sucks at your nipple, tangled at the base of his neck, unsure whether you’re trying to push him off or pull him closer. “I think we should- just- calm down and—“

“No,” Case says, a low noise, almost strangled as he unlatches himself from you, shaking his head. He sounds pained, sick, emitting a whine as he unfolds himself, hands wrestling with his belt. In your sudden shyness, feeling all too exposed, you pull your shirt down and make a move to close your legs, but Case’s hand nudges your knee, as thoughtless as if he were swatting a fly as he pries them back open.

“Gotta have you now, baby, I-I gotta,” he mumbles, repeating it under his breath over and over like a mantra. Is it for you to hear? Is it for himself? You don’t know. But even as you try and move his hand away it’s a hopeless thing. He’s firm, resolute. Won’t so much as let you budge. He slides his belt off with one hand, shoving his cargo pants and boxers down his hips, and stamps your arm back at the side of your head with the other, wrenched tight around your wrist.

“O-ow, careful, Case—”

Your words are cut short by a jarring thud. His cock thumps thick and heavy against your tummy, and wide-eyed, you freeze. Oh. Case tugs around the base to give it some hopeless attention, something, anything to take the edge off. The shock of it all pulls out a breathless whine from you. He’s never usually so forward. He rocks himself slow against you, moving his hips down, nudging your clit with the leaking head of his aching dick. It’s- it’s so much that you don’t know whether to stop him or just surrender, craning your neck down to try and catch a glimpse of- of—

Fuck, you forget how big it is. Every time. It always looks so much more intimidating than it feels, but that’s because Case has always been careful with you, patient, always working you up on his fingers first before even attempting to split you open on him, even then only feeding you inch by tentative inch until he’s seated nice and deep inside you. Eager, but takes his time with you, never in any rush to give his sweet girl what she needs.

But you have the feeling that this time is different. Not- not bad, but- different. His hands are hard on you, bruising, kisses impatient and starving, even the way he’s slowly fucking his tip against your clit, hazy-eyed and mindless as he watches himself slide the length of his shaft between your folds, so pink and sweet- it’s maddening. It’s only then that you realise you’re moaning, bleating like cornered prey.

As if suddenly reminded of the fact he ought to prep you, he shoves two fingers unceremoniously into his mouth, sucking them wet before pulling them out with a pop and delving his hand between your legs. It’s done so fast you flinch, a panicked sound pulled out of you. His usual patience is swapped with hurried desperation, a flit of his eyes to yours- your lips, your face, God, the prettiest thing he’s seen in his life- measuring your reaction. Your shock and confusion must be evident in your wilted expression, because he moves his fingers just a little slower, watching with enamoured reverence as your face flushes hot, savouring the way he can see the thoughts just spill out of your head like honey as it empties itself for him. So, so pretty.

“U-um—” you stammer, as dumb as the day you were born. You want to say something, want him to say something, but your mind goes blank. Whatever good sense might linger is gone- there’s only Case, much too broad and much too big in your bed as he looms over you. He slides his fingers against your clit, tender with need; he thumbs at your slick entrance, soaking his knuckle as he teases against it, and moans at how reflexively it clenches around him, begging to be filled. How badly it wants him. He barely humours your poor, needy pussy as he slides his middle finger inside, thick as it stretches you, just about managing the first knuckle before you keen, body bowing into him.

“G-God, Case, please—”

Sobriety spurs vaguely into him then, the light coming back into his eyes as he blinks down at you, strewn like a blushing favour over the pillow. His perfect girl, his. As he looks at you, he slides his finger out of you slowly, relishing with a faraway look on his face the way you crumple and cry, grasping at his wrist to try and pull him back in again. He thinks he’d go mad for it. For you, he thinks he’d die.

“S’okay,” he grumbles under his breath, a click of his tongue as he tuts at you like one might a skittish animal. He pulls back, lining his cock up with your soaked entrance, his pupils blown black, drunk. “I’m gonna make it better. M’gonna make it better, baby, I promise.”

He has to make it better. Has to. Has to apologise for what he’s doing, how he’s acting- he has to apologise for what he is, the thing growling inside him, tearing, clawing, screaming to get out—

He’s still sucking the syrup of you off his fingers as he pushes himself inside you, eyes rolling into the back of his head with a loud, broken groan. He’s so lost to the white haze of bliss for a second as your slick heat all but swallows him in, pushing only a little resistance at the sudden intrusion and God, he knows you’re not used to it so quick, so soon, but you’re his good girl, his baby, and he knows you can take it.

And you’re not quite used to the stretch even on a good day- feeling it rip into you now is near agony. Your mouth opens wide but not a sound comes out. Useless anyway, given Case bends down and closes his own around it, tongue delving hot inside to seek yours. It’s so fast and so much that you barely find time to adjust, just letting your mouth loll open and surrender itself to him as he tongues you, trying so hard to focus on accommodating to his cock pushing- forcing- its way into you, too much, too much, too big—

The hand around your wrist loosens as though some pliant drug has washed cold over him, and you open your eyes for just a second, enough to catch the way his dilate, black melting into the white before he sinks himself all the way inside you. Filling you to the hilt, suffocating. Bliss is written into every line of his face, softening as he lets out a whine. He bottoms out, and you see it in him- complete and utter relief. Some awful agony in him quelled immediately, his body slack against yours. He feels, in you, complete. Home.

It’s evident enough that it puts you at ease, whatever it is that’s compelled him like this. He’s not trying to hurt you. You don’t think. He’s just rather like a big dog that believes itself to be no larger than a puppy, unaware of its own weight and strength. Case’s body goes almost flat atop yours and the only way he notices at all is how it pushes a wheeze out of you, a silent beg for release.

But just then you feel his hips pulling back, cock sliding out of you inch by agonising inch. A whimpering plea is all you’re given to let out before he slams back into you again and fuck, it’s too much, he’s too big, you’re not used to—

“F-fuck, Case, wait—”

Your legs tremor involuntarily as they part further to let him closer, let him in, his hips welded to yours as he buries himself right to the fucking root of you. Case groans, delirious as his face falls against your shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.”

“Case- s’too much, you’re—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, an attempt at comfort that leaves you dizzier than it does much else. He licks a wet kiss to your neck, meant to calm you, but only riles himself up more, setting off a dormant bloodthirst in him; he does it again, and this time he- he bites you.

You squeal. “O-ow!”

Like an apology he can’t voice he laps his tongue flat against your skin, mulling hungrily over the bitten flesh like he’s savouring it. It’s only when he’s sated himself on you that his hips start moving, slow, languid thrusts that quicken each time you yelp, hurried pace picking up once he feels you clench reflexively around him.

And he’s usually so gentle when he fucks you, almost hesitant, always like he’s half afraid of breaking you. Not like this. He fucks into you mindlessly, a rabid thing with a single razor sharp splinter of desire- you. Wants you. Has to have you, has to split you open and- take you. Fuck you so there’s nothing left in him to think of or breathe in but you. Every thrust is merciless and messy, Case pounding into you again and again as the sound of him fucking into your wet cunt smacks luridly in the air; loud enough that it makes you wince, cringing to hear yourself so shamelessly, how your body makes itself so slick and malleable just for him. His hips slam into you faster than you can take it- but you can take it, you can, he insists, demands it, grunting it into your ear, baby, please, jus’ take it for me, take it take it take it—

Your orgasm slams into you, a violent punch that singes you hot-white and blind; your thighs clench around his hips of their own accord and pull him in even deeper- as if there’s any more room- unbidden as you cry out, wailing helplessly as he just- keeps- fucking you. Wave after wave of pleasure drowning you over and over and over. It almost terrifies you, how willingly gone your body leaves itself, all sense and reason fleeing you all to make room for this- him.

You babble incomprehensibly as you ride it out, words lost in your throes of euphoria, smothered completely beneath the sweet and tender violence of him, your ravaged cunt milking and just taking him in its refusal to let go.

You don’t know if you’re crying- it all feels so good you can barely make sense of where you are- but through the red haze of it all you feel Case’s hand cup your cheek, caress your face, mumbling choked apologies into your shoulder as he keeps impaling you on his cock, chasing his pleasure into you. It’s the sweetest thing, his voice very almost pathetic, incongruous to the way the rest of him seems dead-set on pummelling you into the mattress as he garbles a knotted string of I’m sorry, baby, can’t help it, s’too good, I’m sorry—

As if you’d even care if he wasn’t. As if you wouldn’t let him break you and cradle the pieces in his mottled hands. As if you wouldn’t let him carve out a home inside of you, broken and bloodied, and nestle himself within. Where no one can hurt him ever again, where nobody could ever find him. Nobody but you.

You’d promise him that much, you think- the times when he wakes up screaming in the night, when he sits up in bed and stares empty at the wall, when mid-conversation he’s just suddenly stunned into white-noise silence, the Case you know, the Case that’s yours, absent for but a moment. Replaced by something else entirely, something you’re not quite sure you recognise. You take him then, like you take him now, your body so dumb and fragile in his big arms as he fucks you hard, cock punching into you so bad you go dizzy.

And isn’t this much like that? Don’t you love him even now, as he is? While he violently breaks you?

“C-Case,” you choke, his chest pressed so tightly to yours you can hardly breathe. His hand snakes up your neck, closing around your throat with a satisfied moan, stars dotted in your view. You feel something cresting again, down your legs, up your spine, the back of your neck— “Oh, god, Case, please, I’m gonna—”

But you don’t know what you’re gonna. It hits you before you can even find out. You come again, you think, some viciously delectable feeling severing you and flinging your body straight up off the mattress, holding him to you, begging him closer, as though he could be any more than he already was. Flesh melting into flesh, sweat sticky and waxen, indistinguishable from his. Inseparable. As you cry out again, he groans, thick and low and not quite human, spilling himself so deep inside you that you feel it pooling hot in your gut, molten sweet; your own climax is slow, tender agony, gorging you open, rippling warm and pink behind closed eyes like the thin warbling of blood in water… and then… and then…

It’s a short moment later, or maybe a few, when the black spots in your vision clear.

You’re staring up at the ceiling, cracked white, a picture much like Case’s eyes had been in the doorway, veins struck blood lightning across marble sclera. He’s there too, you can hear him, his voice a distant echo as you feel large hands cup your face, your whole world oscillating.

It’s bliss. It’s perfect. You lie there, barely coming to, your body sinking into the mattress as though you weren’t even there, floating, feeling so, so nice.

When the shadow pulls over your vision, you smile. Case holds himself over you, his thumb peeling back your eyelid, letting out a choked sound of relief when your eyes, lucid, finally fix on him.

“Oh- oh, thank god- oh- baby, I’m so—”

He scoops you up like a ragdoll in his arms, clutching you so tight to his chest that you can feel the erratic thrumming of his heart, quick as a rabbit’s to the slow drum of yours. A series of strangled noises leave him as he buries his face into your shoulder, wet, whether from kisses or crying, you don’t know- but you know that you love him, and he’s yours. It’s the only thing on your emptied mind as your face burrows against him, breathing him in. That strange chemical smell is long gone now, enveloping you back into the warm embrace of pine and petrichor, the smell of home. Of him. It’s all you can think of, the only thing you can form into words, when you mumble, exhausted, into his chest.

“‘Love you, Case.”

And he must hear it, because his heartbeat slows then, decelerating a steady hum to match your own. His death grip on you loosens, his body going slack as he falls into you. Whatever noise that screams endless in his mind seems to cease, because through it all he hears you, hushing and cooing at him as you pull your fingers softly up his arm, pulling him slowly, slowly, down into bed. You stay still as he sifts frantic hands over you, smoothing you over like he’s trying to keep the shape of you, checking you like he would for bruises. You know this is his way of taking care of you, of fixing you, of making everything right and keeping his precious baby together with all her pieces intact; he kisses you slow but trembling, lips finding every swath of skin he knows he’s bitten, pinched, groped too hard.

“Didn’t mean to,” he murmurs, quiet and worriedly into your hair. He kisses, again and again. “Didn’t mean to be so rough. Didn’t mean—”

“I know,” you whisper, “it’s okay. I’m okay. Look- feel.”

You find his hand in the dark, pulling it around yourself to press it against your chest, your heart beating heavy against his palm. You keep it there, proof of your wellness, showing him you’re unharmed. Where it matters, anyway. You’re so strung out from your orgasm that all you can do, want to do, is just lie there and hold him, body limp and satisfied in spite of it all.

It’s just that, then, quiet, the soft sounds of his breathing slowing in time to yours, a conscious effort to calm himself, to prove to you that he can be, that he isn’t that thing that lingered in the doorway glowering at you- to prove to himself that he isn’t a monster.

He tells you again that he’s sorry, but you just tut your forgiveness and shake your head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. And he tries to tell you why, but when he opens his mouth, no words come out. Just the voice in the back of his head again, the knife kept lodged in his throat all this time. We don’t talk about that. His vision warps, chromatic as he blinks away pictures of the lab, the lights, the Cradle. We can’t talk about that.

Case just sighs then, settling into your arms and cocooning himself around you like he’s not the very thing he’s trying to protect you from. He thinks he tells you he loves you too- that, at least, he knows is his- but he isn’t sure if you hear, fallen asleep before you can utter a response.

He just looks at you, and he’s completely besotted. Utterly and madly. He kisses you sweet and gentle, stamping his one last apology as soft fingers thread through your hair. He’ll fix it, he vows, for you, for you. Then he slides in next to you, curling his arms around your tummy to pull you in close, swearing until he falls asleep to make good on that promise. Then, as sleep slowly takes him, there are no more bumps in the night.

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world0fmadness · 13 hours ago

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LOVE, THROUGH PEN AND PAPER

okay so i really wrote this as kind of a test piece to test the waters on if you guys like this and maybe i will make more about how the reader met others hehe! also i very much wrote this with the idea that the reader is not originally from norway, hopefully that is not an annoyance to anyone!

can you guys tell that bård is my absolute favourite metal man to write for? <3

♡ you and bård met through being pen pals in the early 90s!

୨୧ most likely, you had ordered a copy of his little black metal fanzine after hearing about it through another pen pal you were speaking to and he had almost immediately taken note of the country that was definitely not norway in your address…

♡ now that he looks back on it, it was probably a pretty major breach of privacy and possibly even incriminating but his interest was far too peaked after he saw your name, which he thought was an absolutely beautiful name, and a country he had never been to so he wrote a little letter to go along with the magazine when he posted it off to reach you

୨୧ but the letter only made you as interested in him as he was in you despite the two of you basically being complete strangers! his letter to you was downright adorable, it was filled with cute broken english and misspellings that made a small smile paint your face as you read through it, it was full of general questions about your home county and how exactly you heard about his little fanzine! not to mention the mixed in questions about you too, questions about what bands you like and what your life is like! his letter was obviously filled with curiosity about you and who would you be to not write a letter back to him after he ended his own with the most adorable little thank you for buying his fanzine?

♡ when bård received your very first letter back to him, he was so strangely ecstatic about it! he already had quite a few pen pals but you… you and your letter felt so different to him, it felt so much more special and he could never quite put his finger on why until he began to send more letters to you and receive more letters from you! after just about three short months of talking to each other through pen and paper, after talking to each other about music and so many deeper topics about yourselves, after eventually beginning to send pictures of yourselves to each other, bård finally realised just what about you and your letters felt so special to him…

୨୧ he was totally into you! oh gosh, of course he was! everything made sense when it clicked in his head that he had a more intimate liking towards you, all those times that he would sit around feeling so impatient and almost lost whilst waiting for your next letter to arrive, all of those times he would check his post every single morning for your next letter, all of those times he felt so free and open when writing to you about himself, all of those times he would feel his face heat up whenever he read your compliments towards him and his band! there were just so many things that suddenly made so much sense when it all pieced together in his head that he really liked you, he liked everything about you!

♡ of course this new and sudden realisation scared bård a whole lot because did he really even want to confess his feelings towards you? did he really want to risk losing you as a wonderful friend because you do not feel the same and the waters are made murky after his confession of wanting to be something more? but he does it, he sends you a long letter confessing everything after almost an hour of walking in circles around his small bedroom with his hands grasping at his long brown hair and his mind lost in paranoia before he just decides to sit down and write a letter confessing everything he feels towards you! with shaky hands and a worried mind, the letter turns out slightly messy with chicken scrawl handwriting but he knows you will still understand it all, you always seem to understand him! he actually gets his mother to post this letter to you for him, he knows damn well that he would probably pull out just before posting it and he knows his worry would probably get the best of him so he asks her to post it for him

୨୧ the waiting days after sending the letter to you are downright horrible for bård, he can barely focus on anything as he awaits your letter back to him and not even playing his drums take his mind away from you… he can barely get to sleep at night as he fears the possibility that he will never receive a letter back from you because of his confession! the restless nights and fearful days become evident in his face as his eyes grow tired and his pale face becomes exhausted! but then, after a excruciatingly slow week of waiting and hoping, he receives a letter through the door and immediately runs to snatch it up from the carpet before rushing upstairs to his bedroom to read it in private…

♡ bård almost yells in excitement and pure happiness when he reads through your letter with shaky hands and sees the words about how you feel the exact same towards him, he can just barely even attempt to hold in a relieved scream as his worried mind is finally put to rest by your loving words on the paper! his body is completely overrun with energy and an almost childlike glee as he fully realised that this is it, he has you now! he has all he ever wanted now! you felt so perfect for him, from the first time he ever read your name on that delivery address and felt a strange tingle in his heart to now as he reads through your letter about feeling that very same love for him! he feels so at peace and so content as he reads your confession letter over and over again, savouring your sweet words in his head before putting it aside to excitedly begin writing his next one to you

୨୧ you can hardly believe your eyes when you read his next letter back to you about how fearful he was to admit his feelings for you, your eyes widening in confusion as you read his written words about how terrified he was… how on earth would it have ever been possible for you to have not felt the same for him? he was so sweet, so passionate and so handsome… i would have been impossible for you to have not felt the very same love for him that he felt for you…

♡ eventually, in early january of the next year after the two of you had even began talking for the first time through letters, you decided to fly out to norway as a kind of late christmas gift for him! you did not even ask him to meet you at the airport as the closest one to his home was still quite a bit away but he did anyways, of course he did! how could he not? he wanted, needed to be there the second you stepped foot in the very same country he was in, he needed to be with you the second it was possible and he sure was! literally the minute you were in his sight after exiting the terminal, he was rushing to take you into his arms for the very first time! excitement mixed with nervousness taking over his body as he held you in a tight hug while you laughed quietly into his shoulder about how constricting his skinny arms were around you before settling your hands on his blushing cheeks and leaning up to place a deep kiss to his lips, the first of many! he was so nervous, he had never kissed anyone like you before, none of his prior kisses were real like this one, you felt so real! after that day, it was hard for him to ever let you go at all, every minute of your days in norway were spent being in his arms as the two of you talked about anything and everything you could think of! this first time actually meeting only proved to bård just how perfect you truly were for him and he never wanted you to leave his arms <3

#thoughts ✩#pen pal! bård eithun #pen pal! faust #bard eithun x reader #faust x reader #emperor x reader

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trashisstillhere · 1 day ago

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Now while I currently do really need and want to work on the things I want to draw, I’ll just give yall the currently uncolored, official ref of the New Ninja!

I mostly did this cuz I thought it was about time they got an actual ref. I mean, I have drawn them many times before yet never made an actual drawing of their full body. So I did it now! And since they’re officially one of my Rc9gn ocs, I kept the ‘UnNinja’ version of them that I drew for ask (it was about what NN looks like without the ninja suit on) long ago which was at first ‘unofficial’ since I basically said you could imagine them in any way all of you wanted but now, that’s how they’ll REALLY look like!

They don’t have any official colors yet, that is one of the parts that will take quite awhile..

Like I did with Serenity, here’s some info about them! (Mostly for the ones who may not be aware of New Ninja and all the posts I did about them before along with a few more stuff I haven’t really either told or shown before about them before I had completely stopped drawing them I guess(??).)

-New Ninja is…well a new ninja chosen to be Norrisville’s new protector in the future right after Randy, their story is supposed to take place (kinda) in a few years after all the events in season 1 and 2 in the show. (All the canon characters are like kinda older at this time, the other teens like 17-18 I think? Idk, I haven’t fully decided yet but basically they’re supposed to not quite be in 9th grade anymore I guess (except New Ninja of course). Randy is actually still a ninja here, still has his mask and everything even though he soon isn’t gonna quite be the main one anymore. However the Nomicon let him keep his mask for now, especially now that he’s currently helping the new Ninja. Plus he absolutely refuses to let Nomicon stop him from doing so, he refuses to just sit back and watch another random kid struggle out there as the new ninja.

-New Ninja’s real name is ?????????… yeah…. They don’t have a official name yet either, no last name, nothing. that part will also take too damn long to figure out and work on so for now, just call them ‘New Ninja’ or NN for short.

-they go by any pronouns! And by any I mean ANY. I know I wrote they/them there on the ref and I mostly use those for them right now too but still, I said before they can still be called by anything and I ain’t changing it. So go ahead, use any other pronouns for this kid if ya like. But I will still keep using they/them for them. (I totally didn’t just make them gender natural who is okay with any other pronouns cuz i had no clue what gender or whatever to make them identify as. Pfft- totally not-)

-as the new Ninja for Norrisville, you’d probably expect them to either be excited to be the new hero and/or take it seriously like a pro….but they’re not, they’re the complete opposite. Instead of them being giddy about this like Randy pretty much was, they’re scared for their life. This new job of theirs has not only already changed their whole life but put so much pressure on the poor kid, they already had struggles in their normal life and now they have gotten even MORE.

-New Ninja isn’t really confident, brave, social, just nothing like the out going kids out there. They’re insecure, a coward and pretty anti social. They get stressed and overwhelmed easily when they’re the center of attention, they often have bad thoughts when they think they’re not doing good enough and worry too much about not being ‘perfect’ enough. This is exactly how they were at first, before and after becoming the next chosen one. But now with Randy being there for them as support, they’re slowly starting to work on themselves to overcome their fears. Will it easily get rid of all of their problems? No. But will it help a lot? Yes!

-Randy calls New Ninja ‘Kid’ quite a lot, it was mostly just a little nickname for them at first during his time trying to help them that just came out but now he can’t help but keep calling them that every time they are together, even acting like a brother/father figure to them! New Ninja is an only child so they never knew how it felt to have any siblings of any kind. (Found family trope my beloved)

-New Ninja gets easily flustered by all sorts of praise such as compliments, affections, etc. they aren’t really used to have so much love and support from other people, not even used to have many fans yet (even though they know that the ninja always had fans for years to begin with-). Now with Randy pretty much doing this, the kid feels like some random kid being embarrassed by their parent or something.

-New Ninja hasn’t ever really gotten to have any sort of fun times and memories during their life, they don’t even know how to play video games at Greg’s Gamehole! Poor kid. But thankfully with Randy’s and Howard’s (yes, even him,) help, they’re learning.

-and uh yeah, they do know Howard too. At first they didn’t, to them he was this random guy that Randy seemed to talk a lot to so much and couldn’t help but be curious by their relationship. After some little investigation and all that crap, they’re more aware of the chubby guy now. How? That’s another part I still haven’t worked on yet.

-because of Randy pretty much being their mentor, New Ninja can’t help but mostly cling onto them. They often feel helpless without him, always asking him for help. They do learn to not always ask him for help later on during their development, yet there are times where the kid still can’t help but feel safer around him. Not just because he is the one who gives him tons of help with ninja stuff, but also cuz they really trust him and may or may not start to feel attached to him.

And that’s pretty much all I’m gonna say for now! Because if I wrote even more, it would take WAY too damn long and this would never get to be posted here. So yeah. Sorry if there will end up being some misspelled words or grammar mistakes, I’m too lazy to read all this again to check for them.

Will a colored version of this ref be done soon? Who tf knows!

#rc9gn #ninja show #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #oc #new ninja #rc9gn oc #art #drawing #doodles #oc refrence sheet #reference sheet #ref #new ninja au #thought I do this tag for this now #since this is pretty much like an AU

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

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Steve Harrington gives me Beach Boys vibes

Like. Steve's a little neutral on pop; he doesn't hate it, but it's not usually his first choice. But like a lot of kids, his musical exploration begins with his parents' collection

He finds his mom's Beach Boys albums when he's about twelve, a little after they start leaving on longer trips and he starts poking around the house because he's bored and alone. He can sort of remember his mom playing them when he was really young, can remember her dancing around the kitchen and being silly in ways she usually isn't

He starts playing the Beach Boys when his parents are gone, just sometimes, because the songs have a pretty good beat and the lyrics are fun and it makes him feel a little less lonely. He's got one playing one evening when his parents get home earlier than expected; his dad just shoots him a look at tells him to "turn down the damn racket" (which Steve does, quickly) before stalking up to his office, but his mom stands in the living room doorway, just watching him for a moment

It's the first time in a long time he remembers her just sitting down with him, smiling, laughing, listening to the music with him. She tells him about the first time she heard the band on the radio, and about how she'd gone out to buy their album the very next day. She tells him that his dad had called in to the local station more than once to request "Barbara Ann" because he knew it was her favorite (Steve can't imagine his dad doing anything like that, but he guesses his mom would know better than he does). She tells him that when he was little, too little to really remember, he would ask her to play "the surfing song," even though she was pretty sure he had no idea what surfing was

They don't do it again, but Steve holds onto the memory

He keeps playing the albums. He gets them on tape, when he happens to see them, and then he can play them in his car when the mood strikes. He wouldn't call himself a fan, exactly, but he doesn't have a better word for it. He ends up memorizing a lot of the lyrics, and finds that he doesn't mind having that knowledge at all

December of '85, the first holiday season Steve and Robin spend together, Robin is ready to tease Steve mercilessly for not only knowing all the words to "Little Saint Nick," but for singing along with it while standing at the counter of Family Video. In public. Steve takes it with good grace, but he also makes sure she also knows all the words by the end of their shift. They sing it together every time it comes on the overhead speakers after that

(Steve gets the feeling Robin's enjoyment is half ironic, but he doesn't mind. Her joy as she sings is sincere, and that's the important part)

Robin isn't the last convert he manages to induct, either

"Kokomo" comes out in '88, and Eddie wants to hate it. Really he does. It's really not his speed, he doesn't like surf music, but he just - he can't quite bring himself to dislike it. Not when Steve is listening to it on the radio in the kitchen, singing along, dancing around unselfconsciously while he does the dishes (moving his hips in ways Eddie does not want to associate with the Beach Boys)

But of course, the second Steve catches Eddie listening with anything other than disdain, it's all over. He turns all his attention on Eddie, singing to him, trying to beckon him into the kitchen to dance with him while Eddie valiantly tries to hold out against the fucking dork-ass romantic he's been dating for over a year

Steve points him and then curls his fingers in a "come hither" gesture as he croons along with the radio, telling Eddie to "come on, pretty mama," and Eddie has to let his head hang back while he tells Steve "I hate you," just so Steve won't see how hard he's smiling

He does end up dancing, his head resting on Steve's shoulder because he's laughing too hard to hold it up on his own, his eyes watering while Steve continues being ridiculous just for him

(It is absolutely not their song, but many years later, it does end up on Eddie's carefully curated wedding playlist. He disavows all knowledge of how it got there)

#if you actually know shit about the beach boys and any of this is off just. just look away. I'm sorry.#steve harrington #stobin #steddie #robin buckley #eddie munson #stranger things #I have no idea if they played 'little saint nick' on the radio as relentlessly in the 80s as they do now #let's just pretend #also; if you end up with a beach boys song stuck in your head due to this post: join the club #the one currently stuck in mine is sloop john b #solar wrote

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lazycranberrydoodles · 1 year ago

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its prosecutor jiang wanyin!!!! oh fuck!!! / gifs + au rambling below the cut / follow for more mdzs x aa crossover stuff :3

all the gifs i made (poses traced off franziska):

hes so similar to franziska when you think about it. theyre both deeply insecure tsundere adoptive younger sibling of successful main characters. who carry whips. something something edgeworth choosing death and wwx actually dying also

his share code is HWFEFF if you wanna use him in a trial! you can't share backgrounds but heres the scenery from the donghua i used.

the easiest way to put custom stuff into objection.lol is to send it in discord and then use the link from opening it in your browser :)

a whole lot of AU stuff

the art im making is for if mdzs was an ace attorney game, playing from WWX's POV to solve various mysteries/cases over the course of the plot. so this scene would be from turnabout goddess, which would loosely cover the dafan mountain mystery.

cases include:

Turnabout Revenge (Mo Manor, quick introductory first case)

Turnabout Goddess (Dafan mountain, the good times flashback)

Turnabout Saber (the man-eating castle (omg hiii nhs))

The Blind Turnabout (Yi City arc)

Turnabout Deviation (the Koi Tower conference, Empathy on NMJ ala turnabout memories or beginnings. opening cutscene is his qi deviation)

The Blood-Soaked Turnabout (second Burial Mounds siege, flashbacks: Xuanwu, Sunshot, YLLZ, Nightless City massacre)

Turnabout Lotus Seeds (testimony about JGY, tree scene, golden core reveal, bathtub scene. opening cutscene could be JGS' death but that would make it canon rather than ambiguous)

Turnabout Confession (Guanyin temple)

the problem with splitting novel!mdzs into turnabouts is that flashbacks are a huge chunk of the book but they don't have mysteries/ cases to solve so they've gotta be lumped together with present day stuff. imo? many of the flashbacks would likely have to be abridged so they could be retold ala DL-6, SL-9, or the fourth grade incident, where characters talk about it over some pieces of art. this is really difficult when theres a metric ton of unspoken, complex, and signifcant history between every character lmao

there's not as much of a problem with the cql timeline but i have not finished it. so.

the opening cutscenes in ace attorney always show the murder and/or the murderer plotting. the first cutscene of the game would be MXY summoning WWX, muttering about getting revenge on his family (it would also be good for him to mention the yllz being dead because that's how the novel starts.) cut to WWX's POV as he wakes up covered in blood and the investigation segment begins.

for investigations of monsters (goddess, saber, etc) the cutscene would be a scene of some poor throwaway cultivator getting their shit wrecked.

it would be cool to make a breakdown for JGY but again I need to review that scene cause I don't know who I'd base him on. maybe Vasquez or Dahlia.

tell me your thoughts!! i'm working off of a mdzs summary/ skimming the novel because i don't remember it too well so if i get anything wrong please yell at me

Jin Ling's sprites & Nie Huaisang's sprites / masterpost

#PLEAAAASE send it to me if you do actually use my animations in a case🥺#here im adapting mdzs to aa gameplay rather than making a mdzs AU where they are lawyers #so jiang cheng is not a prosecutor in this hes just angry. and on the right side of the screen #that man has not graduated law school but then again no one in ace attorney has either #the names are based off of how ace attorney cases are either named after a distinctive item/location (bigtop bridge samurai etc)#or the main emotional/character type thing that happens (goodbyes reminiscence farewell)#the mdzs/aa au where the stories get blended (ie my tags on the nhs post) is very interesting but i would have to think about it very hard #and i dont want to . i would rather think about what the court record would look like (its full of severed limbs)#MDZS' EXPLORATIONS OF MORALITY MAKE ME CHEW ON ROCKS #urrgh i got carried away writing this post & wrote a couple hundred words comparing aa and mdzs' attitudes towards morality & public opinio #i could write an essay on this topic tbh.#can i call this an au? its the same story in the same universe just in a different format. hmm #mdzs #aa #art #mo dao zu shi #ace attorney #grandmaster of demonic cultivation #cql #the untamed #jiang cheng #jin ling #objection.lol #flashing image tw #pixel art #animation #my art #franziska von karma #i guess??#mdzs aa au

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arsenicflame · 5 months ago

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steddyhands modern au inspired by this post:

(1828 words, themes of kink but nothing explicit, established blackhands & gentlebeard-centric. Happy Pride!)

Stede picks up leatherworking in the wake of his divorce. He's not exactly sure how it ended up being such an important hobby for him, only that he had always admired the intricate designs on his horse's best bridles, and with little else to do with his time, he decides to give it a go.

It's rocky going at first, but he's having fun working with his hands for the first time in his life, and there's a sense of satisfaction in seeing the design come to life as he works. With practice, his skills improve, and he learns how to make things that are truly one of a kind.

He starts off posting his pieces online, as a way to reach fellow enthusiasts, but quickly finds himself with a rather large audience. Stede’s style is unique, and, after many requests from his followers, Lucius encourages him to make some more basic pieces he can sell. It's not about making money for Stede, but another way to meet new people who share his interests- as Lucius keeps telling him, it's sad that his personal assistant is the main person he talks to these days.

So Stede sets out on a new adventure, and has quite the time designing a new range of patterns for the market. He makes purses, belts, bracelets, and, most importantly, dog collars- all still with his unique designs embossed into them, of course. He rents a booth at his towns monthly craft fair, and very quickly finds himself with a new group of friends in the other regulars- Pete, his usual neighbour, who sells an array of wooden figures he carves, Roach, who runs a stand for his bakery, and Frenchie, who isn't actually a stallholder, but is almost always busking near his friend Wee John’s stand of knitted goods, bringing life to the market even in the pouring rain. There's also Buttons, another regular at the market. Nobody is exactly sure what he does there- he doesn't sell things, or seem to buy anything either, but rain or shine, he's there with the birds.

Stede’s been doing this a few months by the time June rolls around. As he's setting up his stand, he notices that the area is much busier than it’d normally be at this time of morning. Lucius, who got roped into helping run Stede’s stall somewhere down the line (despite his protests that this is not what personal assistant means… But hey, he got a boyfriend out of it, at least), reminds him that there's the parade today, too- not realising that Stede had no clue there was a parade today, and especially not that it was pride. Stede immediately jumps to fretting about the amount of stock he’s brought, and Lucius takes the cue to escape, saying he’ll go and grab them coffee (but really, he's off to flirt with Pete)

Lucius is still missing when Ed stumbles across the little leather stall. Stede’s just ran back to his car to fetch his last boxes of inventory, and by the time he returns, Ed’s already begun to narrow down his choices. Stede greets him, starting to tell him that they're not actually open yet, but before he gets more than a couple of words out, Ed’s exclaiming “You're a Kiwi!!!”

The two of them smile at the shared recognition, and Stede says he’ll make an exception, just for Ed, and asks him what exactly he was interested in. Ed tells him that he's looking for a collar “for his boy”, and points out the particular design he was looking at. It happens to be one of Stede’s favourites from this latest run of work, a fact he mentions to Ed. It leads them into a discussion about Stede’s craft, and Ed’s Izzy, and then everything in between. Ed’s listening intently to the things Stede’s telling him, completely drawn in by the process, and by Stede himself. He watches as Stede stamps Izzy's name into the collar, and Stede even lets him have a go at one of the stamps.

Lucius reappears sometime in the middle of this- only to immediately retreat again, seeing Stede engrossed with Ed. He sets up camp at Pete's booth opposite, watching this man flirt intensely with his boss- and Stede flirt back just as hard. Does Stede even realise he’s doing it? Lucius had known Stede was gay since before Stede even admitted it to himself, but this is on a whole other level.

The pair stand there so long that Izzy comes to look for Ed- the two of them are manning a float on the parade with their crew, and it's past time for them to get geared up. He's already worked up, frustrated to have been left to set up everything alone, when Ed had just gone to see if he could get them both coffee. So maybe he's a bit of a prick, approaching with a brash “where the fuck have you been, Edward”, to which Stede brings the same energy, giving a bitchy “Ed! Do you know this guy?” Izzy tenses, ready to snap, but then Ed cuts in, excitedly telling Stede that this is “his Izzy!” Which confuses the hell out of Stede.

Forgetting his earlier attitude, he asks Ed if he “really named his dog after his friend”, only to be met with confusion right back from Ed at where the hell Stede got the idea he had a dog from. Stede gestures at the bag with the collar in it, to which Ed has to tell him, “oh, no, that's for him.” Ed tells Stede that they're here to run a float for their local leather society, and while Stede is certainly shocked by what Ed’s saying, he's not finding himself… uninterested. It's simply that he’s never even considered any of this before, especially not that people would use the things that he made for this, but Ed sounds so enthusiastic about it all. He tells him about how his friends would love to see Stede’s work, about how classic leather gear is always so fucking boring- but not Stede’s stuff, no, Stede’s stuff is “fresh” and “fascinating” and unlike anything Ed’s ever seen before.

Ed's enthusiasm is incredibly infectious, so when he invites Stede to come back to see their float, he readily agrees. It’s a concept Izzy’s less than enthusiastic about. He doesn’t really want to bring this man who’s dressed like he just walked out of a HOA board meeting to their kinky little corner of the world, but he is having a lot of fun watching Stede squirm, so decides not to raise a protest. He does demand he gets his long-overdue coffee first, though (Stede pays for it- as “compensation for him distracting Ed from his job”, he says, not giving Izzy a second to process before he's tapping his card)

By the time they return to the float, Fang, Ivan & Jim are waiting for them, all already geared up. Stede is stunned silent at the sight for about 5 seconds, before he starts actually looking at the quality of Jim’s harness, and proceeds to go off about the poor quality of the craftsmanship, about how the hardware is tacky and completely the wrong choice with this leather, how his “ten year old daughter could do a better job!!!”

There's complete silence from the group, until Izzy, of all people, bursts into laughter at Stede’s audacity (and, the fact he was staring at Jim's tits completely unabashedly, like he hadn't even noticed them in the first place). Izzy's laughter sets Ed off as he tells the group about Stede’s misunderstanding- “you didn't say he was a person!” “I mean, he's my dog”- and soon everyone's having a friendly giggle at Stede’s mistake.

It's somewhere in the middle of the retelling that Ed remembers that this whole thing happened because he was buying Izzy a gift. After a moments fumbling, he presents Izzy with the collar- It's a rich, deep black, embossed with a rolling pattern that resembles waves. It’s made from a firm enough leather to take the tooling, and to remind Izzy that he’s owned while he’s wearing it, yet still soft enough for long term comfort. Izzy's eyes immediately lock on to it, an unreadable expression coming over his face, and Ed turns it; first so he can really see the design and Izzy’s name embossed into it, and then so he can see the small “Ed ♥” on the inside of the collar, right over his swallow tattoo.

“I did the heart,” Ed says to him softly, intended only for Izzy’s ears. Izzy's eyes flick up to Ed’s, and he raises his chin to give Ed the room to put it on. Ed buckles the collar around his neck almost reverently, a test of the tightness turning into a caress of Izzy's neck. It's a perfect fit.

It's as though something comes over Izzy; so twitchy and abrasive earlier, now silent, staring at Ed with a look akin to worship in his eyes. He obediently tilts his head for a kiss as Ed's fingers move to his chin- It's a sight to behold, and one that has Stede intrigued. He wants to know more about this lifestyle, and these men in particular. He wants to be the one to put that expression on Izzy's face.

The moment breaks as Ed and Izzy pull apart, and Ed calls for the crew to finish the last bits of set up. Izzy shakes himself a little before running off to bark orders again, but even still, there remains a softness to him that wasn't there before.

Ed turns back to Stede with an apologetic smile, already obvious that he has to get going. Before he can speak, however, Stede jumps in -“My business numbers on the card in the box… I'll be around all day”- Ed’s smile turns more genuine at that, promising to stop by if he gets a moment, and that he’ll send his friend's Stede’s way- “if he wants that kind of business.” Stede says that he does, actually- that he's seen a whole new world already today, and, while he was a little taken aback at first, he can feel the passion Ed and his friends have for this life. If there's one thing that's ever mattered to Stede, it's other people's enthusiasm. Maybe he doesn't completely understand yet, but he would like to try.

One year later, Stede’s back at the market on pride weekend again, far better stocked for the crowds this time around. Lucius is finally free to spend the day flirting with Fang & Pete to his heart's content, now that Stede’s roped his own boyfriends into helping him run the stall- and into modelling the merchandise. Ed loves that part, while Izzy needs a lot more convincing, but the puppy eyes Stede & Ed weaponise against him make a very good argument.

#Despite what this post may imply; i actually know very little about the art of leatherwork #Im also not saying Stede got into leatherwork because of his repressed leather kink. But im not not saying that.#(This is not to say that i personally think leather gear is boring- i totally see the beauty in simple/plain designs & i get that the #style is all about the look of straps and hardware. but also. i know in my heart Edward ‘likes a fine thing’ Teach would be head over heels #for fun unique pieces. Its the whimsy of it all)#(not to turn this into OFMD meta but. You can like both; in fact. You can have the leather AND you can have the florals)#ALSO. dont ask me why izzy would find a big difference between wearing gear on the float vs the stand. it just felt right #(ok i do have reasoning. its the directness of it. in the parade its very part-of-a-crowd; every interaction in passing. running the stand #is direct interactions + they are specifically looking at Him. it feels different. but he does it because he loves his partners)#nyxtalks #ofmd #our flag means death #edward teach #stede bonnet #izzy hands #israel hands #blackbeard #blackhands #edizzy #gentlehands #stizzy #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #steddyhands #fanfic #sort of... i dont really consider this fic; more. scenario description but ill admit this ended up way closer to fic than i planned #but the weird stylistic choices are because. this wasnt intended as fully fleshed out fic.#i am not a writer & i dont want to be. im just a guy with ideas over here; and the best way to share ideas is through words #(Please dont count the commas per sentence ratio. Thats between me & god)#also. I cant believe i wrote something that can be tagged as gentlebeard centric. Who am i.

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