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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months ago

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Even if you think AI search could be good, it won’t be good

TONIGHT (May 15), I'm in NORTH HOLLYWOOD for a screening of STEPHANIE KELTON'S FINDING THE MONEY; FRIDAY (May 17), I'm at the INTERNET ARCHIVE in SAN FRANCISCO to keynote the 10th anniversary of the AUTHORS ALLIANCE.

The big news in search this week is that Google is continuing its transition to "AI search" – instead of typing in search terms and getting links to websites, you'll ask Google a question and an AI will compose an answer based on things it finds on the web:

https://blog.google/products/search/generative-ai-google-search-may-2024/

Google bills this as "let Google do the googling for you." Rather than searching the web yourself, you'll delegate this task to Google. Hidden in this pitch is a tacit admission that Google is no longer a convenient or reliable way to retrieve information, drowning as it is in AI-generated spam, poorly labeled ads, and SEO garbage:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/03/keyword-swarming/#site-reputation-abuse

Googling used to be easy: type in a query, get back a screen of highly relevant results. Today, clicking the top links will take you to sites that paid for placement at the top of the screen (rather than the sites that best match your query). Clicking further down will get you scams, AI slop, or bulk-produced SEO nonsense.

AI-powered search promises to fix this, not by making Google search results better, but by having a bot sort through the search results and discard the nonsense that Google will continue to serve up, and summarize the high quality results.

Now, there are plenty of obvious objections to this plan. For starters, why wouldn't Google just make its search results better? Rather than building a LLM for the sole purpose of sorting through the garbage Google is either paid or tricked into serving up, why not just stop serving up garbage? We know that's possible, because other search engines serve really good results by paying for access to Google's back-end and then filtering the results:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

Another obvious objection: why would anyone write the web if the only purpose for doing so is to feed a bot that will summarize what you've written without sending anyone to your webpage? Whether you're a commercial publisher hoping to make money from advertising or subscriptions, or – like me – an open access publisher hoping to change people's minds, why would you invite Google to summarize your work without ever showing it to internet users? Nevermind how unfair that is, think about how implausible it is: if this is the way Google will work in the future, why wouldn't every publisher just block Google's crawler?

A third obvious objection: AI is bad. Not morally bad (though maybe morally bad, too!), but technically bad. It "hallucinates" nonsense answers, including dangerous nonsense. It's a supremely confident liar that can get you killed:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/sep/01/mushroom-pickers-urged-to-avoid-foraging-books-on-amazon-that-appear-to-be-written-by-ai

The promises of AI are grossly oversold, including the promises Google makes, like its claim that its AI had discovered millions of useful new materials. In reality, the number of useful new materials Deepmind had discovered was zero:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/23/maximal-plausibility/#reverse-centaurs

This is true of all of AI's most impressive demos. Often, "AI" turns out to be low-waged human workers in a distant call-center pretending to be robots:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/31/neural-interface-beta-tester/#tailfins

Sometimes, the AI robot dancing on stage turns out to literally be just a person in a robot suit pretending to be a robot:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

The AI video demos that represent "an existential threat to Hollywood filmmaking" turn out to be so cumbersome as to be practically useless (and vastly inferior to existing production techniques):

https://www.wheresyoured.at/expectations-versus-reality/

But let's take Google at its word. Let's stipulate that:

a) It can't fix search, only add a slop-filtering AI layer on top of it; and

b) The rest of the world will continue to let Google index its pages even if they derive no benefit from doing so; and

c) Google will shortly fix its AI, and all the lies about AI capabilities will be revealed to be premature truths that are finally realized.

AI search is still a bad idea. Because beyond all the obvious reasons that AI search is a terrible idea, there's a subtle – and incurable – defect in this plan: AI search – even excellent AI search – makes it far too easy for Google to cheat us, and Google can't stop cheating us.

Remember: enshittification isn't the result of worse people running tech companies today than in the years when tech services were good and useful. Rather, enshittification is rooted in the collapse of constraints that used to prevent those same people from making their services worse in service to increasing their profit margins:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/26/glitchbread/#electronic-shelf-tags

These companies always had the capacity to siphon value away from business customers (like publishers) and end-users (like searchers). That comes with the territory: digital businesses can alter their "business logic" from instant to instant, and for each user, allowing them to change payouts, prices and ranking. I call this "twiddling": turning the knobs on the system's back-end to make sure the house always wins:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

What changed wasn't the character of the leaders of these businesses, nor their capacity to cheat us. What changed was the consequences for cheating. When the tech companies merged to monopoly, they ceased to fear losing your business to a competitor.

Google's 90% search market share was attained by bribing everyone who operates a service or platform where you might encounter a search box to connect that box to Google. Spending tens of billions of dollars every year to make sure no one ever encounters a non-Google search is a cheaper way to retain your business than making sure Google is the very best search engine:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Competition was once a threat to Google; for years, its mantra was "competition is a click away." Today, competition is all but nonexistent.

Then the surveillance business consolidated into a small number of firms. Two companies dominate the commercial surveillance industry: Google and Meta, and they collude to rig the market:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jedi_Blue

That consolidation inevitably leads to regulatory capture: shorn of competitive pressure, the companies that dominate the sector can converge on a single message to policymakers and use their monopoly profits to turn that message into policy:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

This is why Google doesn't have to worry about privacy laws. They've successfully prevented the passage of a US federal consumer privacy law. The last time the US passed a federal consumer privacy law was in 1988. It's a law that bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

In Europe, Google's vast profits lets it fly an Irish flag of convenience, thus taking advantage of Ireland's tolerance for tax evasion and violations of European privacy law:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

Google doesn't fear competition, it doesn't fear regulation, and it also doesn't fear rival technologies. Google and its fellow Big Tech cartel members have expanded IP law to allow it to prevent third parties from reverse-engineer, hacking, or scraping its services. Google doesn't have to worry about ad-blocking, tracker blocking, or scrapers that filter out Google's lucrative, low-quality results:

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

Google doesn't fear competition, it doesn't fear regulation, it doesn't fear rival technology and it doesn't fear its workers. Google's workforce once enjoyed enormous sway over the company's direction, thanks to their scarcity and market power. But Google has outgrown its dependence on its workers, and lays them off in vast numbers, even as it increases its profits and pisses away tens of billions on stock buybacks:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

Google is fearless. It doesn't fear losing your business, or being punished by regulators, or being mired in guerrilla warfare with rival engineers. It certainly doesn't fear its workers.

Making search worse is good for Google. Reducing search quality increases the number of queries, and thus ads, that each user must make to find their answers:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/24/naming-names/#prabhakar-raghavan

If Google can make things worse for searchers without losing their business, it can make more money for itself. Without the discipline of markets, regulators, tech or workers, it has no impediment to transferring value from searchers and publishers to itself.

Which brings me back to AI search. When Google substitutes its own summaries for links to pages, it creates innumerable opportunities to charge publishers for preferential placement in those summaries.

This is true of any algorithmic feed: while such feeds are important – even vital – for making sense of huge amounts of information, they can also be used to play a high-speed shell-game that makes suckers out of the rest of us:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/11/for-you/#the-algorithm-tm

When you trust someone to summarize the truth for you, you become terribly vulnerable to their self-serving lies. In an ideal world, these intermediaries would be "fiduciaries," with a solemn (and legally binding) duty to put your interests ahead of their own:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

But Google is clear that its first duty is to its shareholders: not to publishers, not to searchers, not to "partners" or employees.

AI search makes cheating so easy, and Google cheats so much. Indeed, the defects in AI give Google a readymade excuse for any apparent self-dealing: "we didn't tell you a lie because someone paid us to (for example, to recommend a product, or a hotel room, or a political point of view). Sure, they did pay us, but that was just an AI 'hallucination.'"

The existence of well-known AI hallucinations creates a zone of plausible deniability for even more enshittification of Google search. As Madeleine Clare Elish writes, AI serves as a "moral crumple zone":

https://estsjournal.org/index.php/ests/article/view/260

That's why, even if you're willing to believe that Google could make a great AI-based search, we can nevertheless be certain that they won't.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/15/they-trust-me-dumb-fucks/#ai-search

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

djhughman https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Modular_synthesizer_-_%22Control_Voltage%22_electronic_music_shop_in_Portland_OR_-_School_Photos_PCC_%282015-05-23_12.43.01_by_djhughman%29.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #twiddling #ai #ai search #enshittification #discipline #google #search #monopolies #moral crumple zones #plausible deniability #algorithmic feeds

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obsessedwhyyes · 7 months ago

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Chasing Lightning

Summary: You've spent all day teasing, tempting, taunting - you've really tested Astarion's patience this time. But pushing his boundaries is your favourite past time. Now, here you are, over his knee, about to receive the punishment you longed for, all according to your devious plan. Not that you'd ever admit it, of course.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2003 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Shameless smut, bratty reader, Dom!Astarion, spanking, light BDSM elements, rough sex, PiV.

Gif by silverformymonsters on Tumblr!

A/N: This, uh... Yeah, no, this is just shameless smut. I am so sorry. Behold, my spanking fic, written in a moment of madness.

You lay over his knee, eager, anticipating - a willing sacrifice on the altar of his desires. Each trail of his fingertips across the bare skin of your backside is a promise of what is to come.

You deserve this, you think to yourself. All your teasing, all your temptations. The way you pressed yourself against him when no one was looking, your face a pretty picture of faux innocence; the way you swayed your hips as you sauntered ahead of him, glancing back to meet his eyes, knowing they would be heavy with that predatorial hunger which ignites the flames of arousal deep in your belly. All part of your plan, which he is more than willing to oblige.

You hear Astarion’s voice, dark and dripping with honey.

“I propose a game, darling. A test of your intuition, shall we say?” You hear the wicked smile in his voice and it sends shivers of sweet anticipation coursing through your body. “I'll think of a number, one through ten, and you'll have to guess it based on how hard I spank you. Guess wrong, and I'll spank you again - the same strength - until you guess correctly. Understand?”

“Yes,” you breathe, wilfully yielding to him . There’s an intoxicating power in surrender. Your submission is a choice, freely given, and that makes it all the more potent.

In yielding, you become more. More alive, more aware, more you than you've ever been. The world narrows to the point of contact where his hand meets your skin. You are the ocean, and Astarion the moon, pulling you into new shapes with the inexorable force of the tide.

“Very good,” he purrs. His thumb rubs the gentlest of circles on your wrists as he binds them behind you with his spare hand. “Of course, if it becomes too much, just say the word. I can be merciful… on occasion.”

The game begins, a dance of unseen touches and breathless anticipations. Astarion’s hand hovers above you, its presence like the charge before a lightning strike.

“Let’s start with a simple one, shall we?”

His touch against your bare arse is a whisper at first, cool fingertips ghosting across your skin. More caress than slap. You shiver, every nerve alight with anticipation.

“One,” you murmur, more exhale than voice.

Astarion’s chuckle vibrates through you, a low rumble that you feel more than hear as you bury your face into the fabric of his shirt. “Oh, my dear. We’re barely getting started.”

The next strike lands with purpose - a sharp, precise sensation that blooms across your skin. It’s not quite pain, not quite pleasure, but something exquisitely in between that draws a gasp from your lips.

“Four?” you venture.

“Warm, but not quite.”

He strikes - the same strength once more, as promised.

“Three!” you gasp, revelation and pleasure mingling in your voice.

“Good girl,” Astarion praises and gods, how those words affect you. They sink into your skin, sweeter than honey, headier than wine. You crave his approval like air, each word of praise stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

The dance continues, each strike a new verse in this poem written on your skin.

Smack.

Five is a starburst of sensation. You feel this once, twice, three times until you finally guess correctly.

Smack.

Seven lands with the force of a thunderclap, reverberating through your body and leaving you trembling in its wake.

Smack.

Nine leaves you gasping, teetering on the knife-edge between pleasure and pain. The sting melts into a deep, throbbing warmth that pulses in time with your racing heart.

With each strike, each caress, the heat builds, a delicious tension coiling tighter in your core.

Four. Two. Six. Six again. Eight.

You find yourself arching slightly into his touch, eager for more, your body's reactions beyond your control.

Then, finally, comes ten.

It cracks across your flesh like lightning splitting the night sky, a white-hot streak of sensation that sears itself into your very soul. For a moment, the world whites out, every nerve ending alight with electric sensation. You cry out as the sensations overwhelm you, the number torn from your lips. The pain is exquisite, pushing you to the very limits of your endurance.

In the aftermath, you float in a sea of endorphins, your body humming with the echoes of Astarion's touch. Each point of contact throbs in time with your racing heart, a map of exquisite sensation etched onto your inflamed skin.

His cool hand soothes over the heated skin. The contrast sends fresh shivers through you, and you moan gently in response, despite yourself. Your skin is hypersensitive, your mind a mess of exhilaration and desire, eager for more, more, more.

Through the haze of lust, Astarion's voice chimes clear. “My, my. Such enthusiasm,” he purrs. “Tell me, darling, did you spend all day dreaming of this? Because I certainly did… in excruciating detail.”

You turn on his lap to look up into his eyes, suppressing a smile. “Who, me? I would never!”

Astarion's eyebrow arches, smirking at your obvious lie. “Is that so? So the way you rubbed yourself against me all morning like a worg in heat was just a coincidence, was it?”

You can't help but giggle at his accusation, which only seems to fuel his amusement.

“Do you have any idea how long you left me aching today?”

“I'm sorry,” you pout.

“Sorry who?”

“I’m sorry, Astarion.”

You don't mean it. And he knows it.

You could be good - a sweet, obedient little thing. But to be bad - to challenge him, to tease him, to test his patience until he finally brings you to heel - why, that's just so much more fun.

“That’s better,” he coos, his voice and his praise caressing you like silk along your skin as he gazes back at you, expression equal parts warmth and something much darker - hungrier - beneath. “Cheeky little pup."

He pauses, and the air becomes heavy with anticipation.

“But I'm not done with you yet.”

He rises and shifts you in a blur of motion, bending you over the edge of the bed, leaving your face buried in the soft sheets. Suddenly, you're exposed to him, your arousal on full display, and you feel the air against your hypersensitive flesh. Yet, in this moment, there is no place you would rather be than at his mercy. You are eager, dripping with expectation.

In the midst of your lustful haze, you hear the rustling of clothes - the familiar sound of his trousers unlaced. It sends your imagination soaring. Your core aches with what is to come.

But Astarion, the cruel man he is, doesn't enter you. Not yet.

Instead, you feel the head of his cock slide maddeningly, agonisingly slowly up the slit of you. You feel him become slick with your arousal as he slides down, and back up your slit once more, just barely skimming your clit, which throbs desperately with need. Such delicate, teasing touches - enough to drive you to madness.

“Do you want it?” He purrs.

“Mmhm,” you mumble pathetically into the fabric.

“Tell me, love.”

“I want–”

He inserts himself before you finish, colliding with you with the force of planets, stealing the breath from your lungs. The union is electric, a completion so intense that it borders on painful.

His desperation is evident, at odds with the image of restraint he was attempting to conjure as he ruts into you with wild abandon. His hands are everywhere at once, desperate and searching. Your own fingers claw at the fabric of the bedsheets, mindlessly, drunk on the sensation of him.

Astarion’s hands soon settle on your hips, pulling you to him as you collide again, again, again. You aid him, pushing yourself against his hips with each thrust, needing to be closer, always closer. You move together in a frenzy, chasing that elusive peak with single-minded determination. The world beyond ceases to exist; there is only this moment, this need, this all-consuming desire.

Breaths come in ragged gasps and are punctuated by moans and whispered pleas. “More,” you beg; “please,” you exclaim, though you're not sure how he could possibly get any closer, any deeper within you.

You feel his hand slide beneath you, and you lift your hips to greet him. Your throbbing clit welcomes his expert touch as he begins to unravel you as easily as he picks locks. He rubs circles around the bud, gently, in stark contrast to his wild rutting - indicative of the tiniest threads of self-restraint which remain within him, spared only to bring you to your peak. But gods, in the heat of the moment, you are especially sensitive, and his touch quickly brings forth rippling waves of sensation which threaten to overwhelm you. Your body twitches of its own accord and you know your climax fast approaches.

Your own voice surprises you, high and desperate. Soft whimpers escape your lips, growing in intensity and frequency as the tension builds.

Behind you, Astarion's sounds are a primal counterpoint to your own. His usual smooth tones are roughened by desire, a gravelly undertone that sends shivers down your spine. Low growls rumble from his chest - they speak of a hunger barely contained.

As you both near the edge, your voices mingle and intertwine. The sounds blur together - gasps and moans, growls and whimpers. The volume rises, unchecked and unashamed. You care not who hears you now.

It is you who first reaches the point of no return. A cry escapes your lips, raw and primal. Your body quakes, and pleasure crashes over you, a torrent of sensation that drenches every nerve ending. You're swept away in the deluge, currents of bliss pulling you under, spinning you in their depths.

His release soon follows and, although you don't see him, you feel the intensity in the air, in his increasingly erratic pounding, in his breaths. A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, vibrating through your bodies like rolling thunder. His grip on you tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he releases into you, claiming you as part of his tempest.

He collapses against your back. His weight is solid and grounding like the calm after the storm. He pants slightly, aftershocks rippling through you both like distant thunder.

Slowly, the world comes back into focus.

Astarion's weight shifts behind you as his arm drapes lazily over your wrist. You feel his cool lips brush against your ear, and he nips it gently.

“If I didn’t know any better,” he muses, “I would say you enjoy being punished.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound still slightly breathless. “If that’s what I get for misbehaving, I might have to do it more often.”

"Careful what you wish for, darling," he murmurs, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I have a whole arsenal of 'punishments' at my disposal. This was merely a taste."

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“Why not both?” he replies, his tone rich with suggestion. “I do so enjoy keeping you on your toes.”

As he rises to his feet and helps you to yours, he kisses you, his gentleness a stark contrast from your earlier activities. Where there was an inferno, now there is now the warming comfort of the hearth. Where there was urgency, now there is patience. Eventually, you find yourselves settled once more, cocooned in the soft comfort of the bed. The lingering scent of your encounter mingles with the fresh smell of clean linens, a heady reminder of the night's activities.

“Alright?” Astarion’s voice is soft.

You nod, words unnecessary in this moment.

As you nestle closer to him, a contented sigh escapes your lips. Being bad certainly has its thrills. But these moments, wrapped in Astarion’s arms - these are treasures in their own right. The mischievous spark in you knows you'll seek out more opportunities to 'misbehave', but for now, you revel in this gentle aftermath, every bit as intoxicating as the storm that preceded it.

No Pressure Tags: @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @sparrowbard @chonkercatto

Masterlist can be found here.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #shameless smut #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction

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artsninspo · 6 months ago

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FORGIVELESS - X - GOT A COUPLE THAT'S OUTSIDE, THEY KILL ABOUT ME THOUGH 🪦

« previous part

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

MOODBOARD 🖼️

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

Word Count: ~4.3K

Warning: Same as all the others for the most part, mentions of violence and un-aliving someone.

Summary: Picking up where we left off. Rio and the Reader try to establish a new normal until the reader gets a call regarding James. Having had his fill of the back and forth Rio finally makes himself known to James and puts an end to the chaos.

X - GOT A COUPLE THAT'S OUTSIDE, THEY KILL ABOUT ME THOUGH 🪦

The dread of returning home to a less than ideal reality is coursing through your veins. It’s so overwhelming you can feel something is coming in your bones. The fight to maintain your centre is active. You haven't practised yoga in more than a week and you have not maintained your meditation rituals. A hand splays over your thigh offering comfort and affection along with a kiss on the top of your head as you rest your head on his chest. You can't help but wonder how he knows that right now you're in need of affection as your mind drifts. The plane starts its descent and you place your hand over Rio’s. You wish you were happier, especially after all the effort he’d put into your excursions the day prior but it feels like that ship has sailed with those bullshit messages. Closing your eyes you sigh deeply regretting the grace you’d given him. You regret not going postal, not showing up to his job, not kicking and screaming, not telling his mother, bleaching his clothes, the whole nine yards. Clearly, he has no intentions of sparing you or maintaining your reputation. Swallowing you decide the gloves are all the way off. Cheating back just didn't seem to cut it. You’d have to hop down to the depths to meet him at his level. You sit stewing without knowing Rio has already taken care of it. He’d gotten the message confirmation before you’d left the villa this morning. It was part of the reason why he found himself capable of smiling. As soon as the plane landed he knew there would be more details. He needed James down and incapable of bothering you for at least the next month. From here on out he’d let you decide the next courses of action - unless James gets out of pocket again. You and Rio leave the airport side by side. His assertive energy is quite the thing to experience in person. People just seem to give him respect. The airport staff nod at him in acknowledgement. People come over to help him when he needs help and he delegates efficiently finding an attendant to get your bags off the baggage carousel paying them handsomely to lift the bags and push the cart. He doesn't break a sweat keeping you close. You watch him in awe as he moves with precision and purpose; you end up at a part of the airport you don’t recall ever coming across as your bags are transferred to a new attendant.

“Hey man, table for two” Rio says and your eyes bulge in horror when you realise where you are. It's a five star restaurant.

“Rio, I’m in loungewear” you whisper.

“Let me find out you're trying to impress someone else” he comments and you shake your head. “You look beautiful” he smiles as we are seated in a private area. Everyone else is well dressed.

“Thank you, it's just …”

“Mama, me being able to get my girl in a restaurant I don’t own in her pyjamas is boss shit” Rio says and you feel your cheeks burn.

“Ha, Ha! You've seen my pj’s, this is loungewear” you correct.

“Whatever you say” he shrugs and you look away laughing as a server comes over pouring you a delicious smelling tea.

“The boss will be right out, if you need any help with the menus let me know. We’re happy to make any substitutions you may require. If you need anything click the button on the table and I'll be right out” the man explains. Overwhelmed you hand Rio your menu.

“Please order what you think I’ll like” you tell him and he smiles proceeding to do just that on your behalf. The server smiles and disappears. It’s clear he has great taste and only likes the best of the best, everywhere he goes he’s treated with the utmost consideration.

“I had a dinner planned for us last night” he confesses. It’s clear Rio is upset about having to pivot because of James. Your first instinct is an apology but you reconsider it knowing Rio doesn't expect one.

“I wish things happened differently,” you confess. “I know it would have been gorgeous” you smile and he nods.

“It was, and I was going to ask you to be my girl because I figure being clear is the best thing for both of us. I know you’ve got a lot going on and I know you’re trying to be happy but it’s okay if you’re not. Fuck shame and James the joke. Soso said I need to be more sensitive” he says.

“Soso?”

“Marisol” he corrects and you smile at his soft side and Marisol’s consideration of you. “Anyway, I’m not ashamed of shit we got going on or what you’re dealing with. I want you to be my girl. I enjoy our time together and I’m not running from shit” he shrugs.

“I had no idea they even made men like you” you remark out loud, thankful for him. Rio smirks, raising a brow.

“Like what?” he asks and you reach across the table to take his chin.

“No words” you smile, giving him a quick peck. “Of course I’ll be yours.” You respond sitting back down. Rio smiles.

“Good” he nods and the waiter brings out a delicious plate of food you absolutely love. Rio shares some of his with your and you with him. Before dinner is over he leaves to speak with the owner. You relax in your seat and check your phone to see a message thread with Tia already making plans for the two of you to go shopping. It’s how Rio finds you and you leave the restaurant and end up at the valet where his car is waiting already loaded with your luggage. You arrive at his place forty-five minutes later. It’s so clean it looks staged.

“I didn't forget about you getting your own place” he comments, watching you hesitate. Shacking up had been against your constitution since before you and James had gotten serious. James, you shake your head knowing you're gonna have to confront him over what he did. You’re gonna have to move your things out.

“I’m in no rush. I’m gonna call my mom and tell her we got in okay” you tell Rio.

“Bet, I have a meeting across town in two hours. I’m going to get ready and head out.” he says leaving you to it.

Settling into the extra deep cushions you look around at the pristine place that feels slightly sterile. It's the level of perfection that doesn't make it feel lived in. You call your mom and she picks up on the third ring.

“Hey Ma, we landed safely.” you tell her.

“Good baby girl” she says but her voice sounds off.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just got a call from James’ mother.” she says and your eyes close as the irritation mounts. That gag order might be necessary after all.

“Yay” you mutter sarcastically.

“Are you sitting down?” Ma asks and your eyes open as you sit forward.

“Yes?” you ask concerned.

“Apparently James was in a fight last night. It went badly for him and he’s in the hospital suffering pretty badly if she’s not exaggerating. They spent the night and all morning calling you until James was lucid enough to have them call his mother. She's furious and wouldn’t let me get a word in.” Your mom explains rocking your world.

“She’s blaming me isn't she?” You ask and your mothers silence is telling. “Why doesn't he call his girlfriend?” you question your mother.

“He wants you and she’s her son's advocate in light of your absence let her tell it” your mom explains. Sighing deeply you look at the ceiling.

“What was he thinking? Starting a fight?” you question.

Your mom sighs “I don’t know…”

“What do you think I should do?” you ask in need of guidance.

“Do what feels right” she says, being no help. Sexual healing with RIo is what feels right. But you leave your mom out of that truth sighing deeply. You resent James more and more every waking moment it seems.

“I guess I’ll go” you say finally. “Guess I’ll take this time to move my things out too”

“I’m coming down, i’ll get a hotel and we can sort it out together” she says.

“Thanks mom” you sigh in relief.

“No problem my love, let me get things sorted and I’ll call you later. Call me if you need anything” she offers.

“I will love you mommy, sorry you’ve become my secretary” you tell her.

“No problem, I've been cleaning up your shit since you were in diapers. It’s what I signed up for” she jokes, making you laugh.

“Hopefully, you get a break again really soon” you smile.

“Only a tiny one, I want some grandbabies,” she says.

“Ma!” you laugh.

“After the divorce is finalized of course, and you’re in a happy healthy marriage” she specifies.

“The shitty fumes must be getting to you. Light a candle, open a window, get some fresh air and I’ll call you later” you tease joking with her.

“Love you, bye” she says hanging up and you do too. Rio emerges dressed in his signature all black and you feel terrible for throwing yet another complicated issue his way.

“What is it?” he asks, sitting down beside you.

“I need a key” you tell him.

“My housekeeper got one cut,” he says. “Where are you headed?” he asks.

“To the hospital James got into something. I’m his emergency contact, he’s in bad shape and asking for me, it’s this whole thing” you explain not wanting to be in this situation.

“I don't think he deserves to see you,” Rio says angrily.

“I’m not sure he’s seeing much of anything with how bad it seems he was beat up.” you tell Rio.

“I don't think you should go after the shit he’s pulled” Rio stands his ground.

“I know, I’m going to go though. I can't keep running from my problems. If I go, he and his mom can say whatever. I can remove myself from all necessary non-legal documents for the time being and then I can tell her I'm going to move out my things and to stop calling my mom. Moving forward all communications will be handled through email until I retain legal counsel” you explain and Rio finds himself smiling.

“Boss shit” he comments.

You snicker. “I have a good teacher”

“Who? I’m not doing all that talking” Rio asserts.

“Take my car and call me if anything you don't like happens” Rio offers.

“You have a meeting. I’ll wait” You respond not wanting to be a distraction.

“Baby, I’m the boss, there's no meeting without me,” Rio says and you laugh, shaking your head at him. Everything about him is so sexy to you. There's no apology for owning who he is and you pinch his cheek.

“I love that about you” you smile honestly and in a second you clam up. The L word. But Rio doesnt clam up, it’s music to his ears.

“Don’t start or we’ll be here all day if I have to list the things I love about you” he says, giving you a kiss as he stands with his heart racing like a kid. His smile is reassuring, affirming you're alright.

“Maybe some other time then” you recover and he nods, coming back with car keys and a house key for you.

“Go handle your business mama” Rio smirks, willing to let you leap. Your lungs fill with air and you nod knowing he’s there to catch you.

You feel yourself tugging at the hems of your long sleeves as you walk into the eerie hospital environment. The stark whites and fluorescent lighting clash with the depth of Rio’s home decor. No longer in his presence you don't feel as strong or as sure footed. If James has done anything over the past month, it's been turning your life upside down. After years of keeping things close to the chest, what he pulled last night was the very last thing you ever thought he would do. You guess karma is funny that way because it’s him and not you that acted the ass only to be beat up so bad hospitalisation is required. Following the directions from the information desk you find yourself in a unit that smells absolutely disgusting. You hold your breath until you grab a mask from the wall only to freeze once it's on. James’ mother Gladys watches you with folded arms. His father James Senior sits outside the room with his head down instead of pointed at you.

“Someone call my wife!” you hear James shout from inside one of the rooms. His voice is strained and the pain in it is unmistakable.

“Get your ass in there!” His mother screams near tears.

“Gladys” Senior hisses, he’s the king of time and place. Years of trying to please his family nearly makes you rush into the room with your head down, but the time of putting James your needs ahead of everyone else's is done.

“Gladys I’d like to speak to you” you swallow standing your ground.

“We can talk after you go in and tend to your husband.” Her tone is sharp but it no longer cuts.

“If you don't want to talk now I can leave and I won't be coming back” you swallow standing firm.

“Y/N, he’s in pain, one of his eyes is swollen shut and his neck is sprained from how hard he was hit. His breathing is impeded by a few cracked ribs according to x-rays and he’s got a fractured ankle.” Senior says. It’s a surprise, you've never heard of someone so severely impacted from a fight. All that muscle and it turns out he’s made of glass.

“How many people fought him?” you ask.

“Two” Senior responds and you swallow. “He wants to see you, that's all he wants. I know you two are having a rough patch-”

“He’s been cheating on me for six months. Please don’t deny it. I saw the photographs and messages between them. She knew and would talk about me like trash. James didn't defend me. It’s the truth and if he thinks I'm so crazy to make things up then that's another reason we should be divorced.” You tell his father frankly.

“He’s a successful man and you want for nothing, give a little, have a heart” His mother says, shaming women everywhere. As painful as it is, you're grateful that James and his family are in the past now.

“He’s been harassing me for the past week and a half. I had to change my number. The only reason I left is because he nearly put hands on me. Dragged me out of the car when I tried to leave him. A cop broke it up. It’s documented if you don't believe me. He’s been harassing my mother too and cyberstalking me. He’s sending horrible messages to the people I spend time with telling them I’m having an affair, that I’m crying out for attention and mentally unstable.” You vent and while Gladys looks like she doesn’t believe it, Senior seems less reluctant to accept your truth.

“He shouldn’t get physical,” Senior says, drawing the line in the sand somewhere. It’s a decent start toward progress.

“Or harass and stalk me” you add.

“He’s fighting for you Y/N, out of everyone he’s been calling for you non stop. He’s made a mistake but he loves you and I know you love him. You've been married for years, don't let a lapse in judgement or another woman take that from you. He probably let the world or his colleagues get in his head.” Senior says with excellent spin. Maybe two months ago it would have worked. Maybe if he’d ended things without the pressure of your awareness. Maybe if he’d treated you better or reacted differently but not now, not after he’s done so much to hurt you.

“She can have him because if this is how he loves - I don't want it” You swallow pushing the door open. Looking at James sympathy swells in your core. Half of his face is so swollen he’s nearly unrecognisable. He can barely handle the flu so you know this is hell for him.

“Baby” he smiles, erasing every drop of empathy in you.

“No baby, Y/N” You correct sitting in the chair and he smiles while shaking his head.

“What are you playing at? What took you so long?” He asks, trying a smile, it's hard to tell with the swelling.

“James pretending to have amnesia is beneath even you. Don’t make this worse than it needs to be with the pet names. I’ve had enough Jekyll and Hyde from you to last a lifetime” you comment with thinning patience. James’ eyes hold yours for a long while before he relents.

“I’m not gonna stop fighting for us” is what he says first.

“Yes you are, I’m gonna go to the house this week and get my things and you're going to stop contacting me and anyone I associate with.” you explain.

“You're my wife Y/N” he snaps.

“Call Japan, get down on one knee for her when you can manage it” You comment and the hint of cruelty in your disregard for his current predicament is not lost on James.

“So you can be with a club owner? I mean if you’re pissed with me for cheating what do you think he’s gonna do?” James deflects.

“No one I associate with is your business. James, why don't you understand that I’m trying to be civil when what I should do is crash out after the shit you pulled yesterday. That message was abhorrent and grounds for me to file for a restraining order which I may have to still since you're committed to thinking this divorce is a joke” you snap.

“It is, you can't afford to leave me” he threatens.

“No James, you can't afford to lose me but it’s too late. I hope you treat the next woman better, if you get lucky enough.” You stand.

“You won't get anything good in the divorce we don’t have kids!” He says playing his last card.

“Thank God, co-parenting with an asshole like you would be a life sentence” you comment.

“Fuck you” he sneers and the machine he’s attached to starts beeping.

“Have fun pissing into a cup” You shoot back as his mother rushes in.

—----

Later that night

Sitting in the dimly lit room Rio can't recall the last time someone had him this out of character. But James was new to the city after all. How could he know who he was dealing with in all his arrogance. It was his arrogance that made this all easier for Rio. Getting him handled was just a phone call. Sitting he looks ahead at the imbecile that was stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers. Up close and personal with James it was clear the man couldn't differentiate between an asset or liability. He had a wife that was happy to please him, out of the way, good cook with great pussy and a heart of gold. He’d traded into a clear cut VVS diamond for one of those huge lab grown stones. He’d an heirloom for aesthetics, gold for fools gold, and now he was grasping at straws. Being fed pain killers intravenously to quell the beating that was the result of him acting out. Looking down at his gloved hand Rio looks to the gold gun, it always did the trick. Got people where he wanted them quickly. Got their undivided attention and guided them to compliance. Sitting forward he butts the hospital bed arm rails with his gun twice before sitting back in the seat. James only stirs sleepily, rapping twice more, Rio watches as the man stirs looking around only to go from sleepy to scared. Rio watches as James sits up only to wince and hiss. His hands reach for the button to call the nurse but Rio has already switched it off. It takes James a moment to realise help isn't coming only for panic to fill his eyes at the sight of the gun laying on his lap.

“I - I - I” James begins but the first two tries are hoarse. He swallows before continuing. “IIIII, I didn't mean whatever I said or did, I was wasted” he manages. Displeased with his skills of deduction Rio says nothing as he watches him fight to sit up in disgust.

“You have two choices,” Rio says finally. “Option One: You refuse option two and I pay one of these underpaid and overworked nurses to inject something to make your life miserable into this bag. More miserable than you are already.” Rio swallows. “Two, you leave Y/N alone and sign the divorce papers”

“How the fuck do you know my wif-” Rio is quick and presses the iron against Jame’s skull.

“Keep talking crazy” Rio smiles, pulling the gun back to screw on a silencer. Once it's fastened he returns his attention back to James. “What were you saying?” Rio asks with his head tilted, wishing James would give him one more reason. Instead of a response the coward swallows. Rio smirks, returning to his seat placing the gun on the tray beside him and giving James his attention once again.

“I mean I get it. I dont get why you cheated but I get you fighting for her. I mean …” Rio nods to himself. “It’s the way she looks at me when she hasn't seen me for a bit” Rio starts chipping away at James' resolve. “The way she calls when she needs something, her little walk, hell I don't even care about her shit crowding the counters in the bathroom” Rio taunts watching James’ patience wear down.

“So you’re her rebound” James grits.

“Rebound is better than the guy who fumbled her. Rebound has her in bed begging for more almost every night.” Rio continues.

“Enough” Jame’s grits.

“I mean I guess you know how good her pussy is, fan-fucking-tastic. I’ll probably suck her dry when I get home and then give her a son” Rio says, hitting the right nerve.

“Fuck you!” James snarks, making Rio smile.

“She probably ain’t post these to spare your ass but since youre a nosy fuck take a look” Rio says getting his phone to a few of the video’s they’d taken on the trip. James closes his eyes at the sight of Rio grabbing your boob while in a bikini in the water together before you kiss. “Aww, what's wrong? It’s no fun when I have the gun?”

“I’ll sign the fucking papers” James grits.

“Ay man, she was always gonna get the divorce whether you were here on earth or in hell” Rio mutters keeping James aware of the existing power dynamic. “Matter of fact, you're gonna send everyone you sent the last bullshit message this one and post it to your story” :

Hello,

I’m writing with a heavy heart to clarify my previous message regarding the affair between your cousin and Y/N. I realize now how misguided and hurtful my words were, driven by my own insecurities and shame.

The painful truth is that I am the one who had an affair for six long months with someone named @JapanJacobs. In my selfishness, I completely neglected my role as a husband and failed to be the partner Y/N deserved. I can’t express how deeply sorry I am for the emotional turmoil I’ve caused her.

I must admit that I also became aggressive with her during our struggles, which only pushed her further away. When she finally asked for a divorce, it sent me spiralling into a manic state that I couldn’t control. I was lost and scared, and I lashed out in my confusion.

I am currently seeking serious help for my mental health and undergoing an evaluation, but I know it may be too little, too late. I am truly ashamed of my actions and the pain I’ve inflicted, not just on my wife but on all of you as well.

I’m so sorry for dragging you into this mess and for speaking poorly of Y/N, who has shown me nothing but kindness. I feel utterly pathetic for what I’ve done, and I can only hope for forgiveness, even though I know I don’t deserve it.

Thank you for your understanding during this difficult time.

Sincerely,James

Looking up from the screen James can hardly speak again. “I’m not sending that!” he snaps scornfully. His pride would not allow it.

“I think you are and I bet you don't tell anyone about my visit either. Won’t make you look too sane. Promise you this, if I have to deal with another frown from something you did to my woman you won't walk again. You try something slick and your pops will be in the morgue first. You should’ve respected your beauty but now you’ve woken up a beast.” Rio stands as James’ night nurse enters. Rio waits for James to cry foul but he doesn't. Nodding Rio gives the nurse her cue. A sleep draft is administered and before James can make any stupid decisions he’s forced into a temporary sleep. The messages are sent, the story is posted and Rio leaves the hospital having snatched away all James’ power, safety and ego. According to the nurse, recovery would take at least six months which would be enough time to decide how to end him and make it look accidental.

Authors Note: Whew, this was a long one with a little of everything. I hope you all are happy with James getting his just due. Rio said aht aht aht, you're gonna suffer like you tried to make my girl. You're gonna go crazy like you tried to make my girl. Stick around and try me big dog 😂 What was your favourite part of the chapter? Also, I still have some time to finish up the final part so let me know any suggestions below or in my inbox 📥 .

» next part

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#rio good girls #rio x reader #good girls rio #rio x you #manny montana x reader #rio good girls imagine #manny montana fanfiction #rio good girls fanfiction #masterlist #forgiveless

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devilish-cherry · 2 months ago

Text

ᨳ♡₊➳ jujutsu kaisen x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack with plot

"You hate your job. The pay is bad, your manager is worse, and customers are somehow both entitled and clueless. Just as you finish contemplating whether unpaid breaks are a human rights violation, weird new people keep showing up to the café. They all seem to know each other. Sometimes they talk in cryptic phrases. What the hell is this domain and why do they want to expand it? One time, a man with stitches on his forehead walked in, made prolonged eye contact with you, and then left without ordering anything. You’re pretty sure he was a serial killer. Another time, the one with white hair and sunglasses indoors mentioned a "higher mission", and you’re 90% sure this is how cult documentaries start. One of your regulars only speaks in weird food-related phrases. You assume he has some kind of medical condition, but no one explains anything to you. But you are not about to ask questions, because ignorance is bliss and also job security. And unfortunately, they are all weird and they seem very interested in coming back."

꒰ masterlist ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 4 ꒱ ₊⊹. ꒰ chapter 6 ꒱

ᨳ♡₊➳ or read on archive of our own!

ᨳ♡₊➳ a/n: thank you all so, so much for the wonderful feedback last chapter!! 🥹🫶 they give me so much motivation and inspiration and i'm just so glad to know that ppl are actually enjoying this silly little story lmfao also sidenote: idk if this needs to be said but there's really no canon deaths in this fic, everyone is alive and well and is somehow existing all at the same time lol just don't question it, this fic is purely for comedic purposes 🙏

You had long since accepted that this café was cursed. Not in the supernatural sense—though, given the customers that kept wandering in lately, you wouldn’t be surprised—but in the way that bad things just kept happening at an alarming frequency.

Like how the espresso machine sounded like a demon trying to claw its way out of the underworld every time you turned it on. Or how Greg the Manager had somehow avoided doing actual work for six consecutive months without getting fired. Or how an increasing number of your customers seemed to operate exclusively in cryptic nonsense.

Speaking of which... There were a few ways a customer could make their mark on this café. Some did it by being aggressively particular about their orders. Others did it by pulling off bizarre stunts that left you emotionally exhausted. And some—some absolute menaces—did it simply by existing.

And today, you were about to meet a man who fit all three categories.

You should’ve known something was off the second you walked in and found Greg the Manager attempting to swiffer mop the ceiling.

“Greg,” you said, dropping your bag on the counter. “Why?”

Greg the Manager, still swiffering, turned to you, looking very proud of himself. “Someone said they saw a bug.”

“…And you decided to fight it?”

“It’s about sending a message.”

The only message he ever sent was that he was completely unqualified for this job. But you had more important things to worry about, like the fact that your brain had to prepare for another shift at the Café of the Damned.

The morning rush was a blur of existential regret and bad coffee orders. A man had asked for a “deconstructed macchiato,” which turned out to just be an espresso and a cup of milk that he dramatically mixed together himself. Another lady had taken a single sip of her latte, made a face like you had personally poisoned her, and then ordered the exact same drink again, as if the problem had been reality itself.

As soon as the lull between rushes set in, the door swung open, and in walked the kind of guy that you immediately knew was going to be a problem.

This man—this absolute unit of a man—was built like he wrestled bears for fun and like an action movie protagonist. He was huge, at least 6’2”, with broad shoulders and the kind of casual arrogance that suggested he had never lost a fight in his life. His black hair was messy in a way that looked effortless, which was infuriating, because if you tried that, you’d just look like you lost a fight with a ceiling fan. He had a noticeable scar near his lip, which did absolutely nothing to soften the fact that he looked like he belonged in a shady back alley, not standing in front of your pastry display.

Instinctively, you knew. This was not a normal man. It was another weirdo. It seemed like it was always a weird customer these days. The normal ones had stopped coming, probably because of the “energy” this place now radiated.

Behind him, a much more normal-sized guy followed, wearing a suit that somehow made him look both professional and like he sold stolen car parts out of a warehouse. He had short black hair, a thin mustache, and the general vibe of someone who both knew too much and cared too little. He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear, which, given the fact that this was an establishment that served food, already put him on your watch list.

He stepped inside, took one look at the first guy, sighed, and then lit a cigarette inside the café.

"Sir," you said flatly. "You can't smoke in here."

He ignored you, exhaling a long, slow breath like he was about to deliver devastating news.

"Do we really need to be here?" he drawled.

"I need coffee," Tall, Dark, and Intimidating replied.

He took a slow look around the café, expression unreadable, before his eyes landed back on you.

And then—oh no.

He smirked.

A slow, lazy, problematic smirk. The kind that screamed:

I have ruined lives for fun.

I am about to say something that will make you regret clocking in today.

You preemptively braced yourself. You straightened up at the counter, immediately suspicious. “Welcome. What can I get started for you?”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, stepping forward, resting an arm on the counter like this was a bar. He leaned down way too close, peering at you with lazy amusement, like he had already decided you were his new favorite source of entertainment. “What’s good here?”

Oh, you did not have the patience for this today.

You put on your best Customer Service Smile™, the one that masked the sheer amount of suffering you endured on a daily basis.

“Well, if you’re looking for ‘good,’” you said flatly, “I’d suggest going somewhere else.”

Tall, Dark, and Intimidating barked out a laugh, like he wasn’t expecting you to clap back. His smirk widened.

“I like you,” he said, voice deep and amused.

Tragic.

You did not have time for this.

Mustache Man—who had been surveying the café like he was assessing its structural integrity—sighed, stepping up beside him. “We just got here, Toji. Can you at least pretend to be normal for five minutes?”

Toji.

That was the kind of name that belonged to a guy who definitely had punched someone in a Denny’s parking lot before. Or the kind of name you gave to a stray cat that bullied other stray cats.

Toji waved him off lazily. “Relax, Shiu. Just making conversation.” He turned back to you, resting his chin in his palm like this was the most interesting part of his day. “So, you work here every day, or just when I’m lucky?”

Sir.

You stared at him for a long, unblinking moment. “Is this a bit?”

Toji raised an eyebrow. “A bit?”

“You’re flirting with the barista in a run down café where the espresso machine actively tries to commit crimes against humanity.”

Behind you, the espresso machine let out a horrifying wheeze, as if proving your point.

Toji and Shiu both stared at the espresso machine with odd expressions before turning to eachother with looks that you didn't nor wanted to understand the meaning of.

Shiu grimaced. “That thing needs an exorcism.”

"No shit." Toji scoffed, before turning back to you. “So, how’s the coffee here?”

“It exists,” you deadpanned.

He chuckled. “Alright. I’ll take a black coffee.”

You punched in the order. “You want a name on the cup?”

Toji tilted his head, thinking. Then he smirked. “Yeah. Put ‘Daddy’ on it.”

You stared at him.

He stared back.

Greg the Manager, who had not been paying attention up until this exact moment, chose that exact second to walk by, hear that sentence, and immediately turn back around and walk away like he absolutely was not dealing with this today.

Toji chuckled, clearly very pleased with himself. “Fine, fine. Just put Toji.”

You rang him up, turning expectantly to Shiu. “And you?”

Shiu briefly glanced at the menu behind you. “I’ll just take an Americano under Shiu.”

As you started making his drink, you noticed something—Toji was casually glancing around the café like he was looking for something. His gaze landed on the security cameras, the exits, the windows—

Oh, you did not like that.

His friend, noticing your suspicion, casually leaned against the counter and gave you an apologetic look. “Sorry about him. He’s, uh… got a bad habit of scoping out places.”

Scoping out places?

“...Uh-huh,” you said slowly, making their drinks while keeping a very close eye on Toji. “And why, exactly, does he need to scope out places?”

Toji took the cup when you handed it to him, giving you a very amused look. “Gotta know my surroundings. Never know when something interesting might happen.”

You did not like the way he said that.

Toji and Shiu took their seats, but Toji decided that sitting down like a normal person was too much effort and instead leaned back in his chair on two legs, stretching out way too much, looking way too comfortable for a man in a public café.

At one point, he started idly flipping a knife between his fingers—a real knife—while making casual small talk, like this was a normal thing to do in a café. Shiu did not even react, just exhaled more smoke into the void.

Greg the Manager—who had spent the entire day being useless in the back—walked out, saw the knife, the cigarette, paused, and then just nodded like this was fine.

Greg. Fucking Greg.

Toji and Shiu had been here for an unreasonable amount of time, drinking their coffee like they had nowhere better to be—which, given Toji’s casual knife twirling and Shiu’s refusal to stop smoking inside, was probably true.

You were currently left with a few customers, most of whom had also noticed Toji but were wisely pretending not to. The man radiated "I have buried a body before, and I would do it again." Meanwhile, Shiu exhaled cigarette smoke like a man who had already made peace with whatever sins he had committed in life.

The bell jingled again.

Great. More customers. Because that was exactly what you needed right now—more opportunities for your soul to wither away. But much to your surprise, standing there, eyes locked on Toji like he’d just spotted a rare Pokémon in the wild, was Yuji Itadori. The actual Yuji, thankfully, and not his weird evil persona that he liked cosplaying as every now and then.

You frowned. “You okay, dude?”

Yuji didn’t say anything. He was staring at Toji. No, not just staring—analyzing. Processing. Connecting mental red strings like a conspiracy theorist.

Yuji blinked once. Then twice. Then his expression morphed into something that could only be described as realization.

And then? Then he gasped.

Loudly. Dramatically. So loud that everyone in the café turned to look at him, including Toji.

Toji, completely unbothered, glanced over his shoulder. “...What?”

You, unfortunately, were not paid enough to deal with whatever this was about to be.

Yuji stared.

Toji stared back.

A beat of silence.

And then, Yuji suddenly pointing a trembling finger at Toji like he was a detective revealing the culprit in a murder mystery, and at full volume, shouted:

“YOU OWE CHILD SUPPORT.”

Silence.

Pure. Deafening. Silence.

Toji looked baffled.

Shiu, who had been halfway through taking a drag of his cigarette, coughed out a lungful of smoke.

You, having absolutely zero context, stood there with the register screen still glowing in front of you, just mentally buffering like an old Windows XP computer.

“…I what?” Toji finally said.

Yuji was not backing down.

“Oh, don’t play dumb, sir,” he snapped, hands on his hips. “I know who you are. Toji Fushiguro. YOU’RE MEGUMI’S DEADBEAT DAD!”

You blinked.

Toji blinked.

Shiu was still coughing.

“…Who the hell is Gummy?” you muttered under your breath, wondering if this was going to be one of those things you’d have to pretend you understood.

Yuji, however, was not pretending to be normal.

Now fueled by the righteous fury of a child who just found out Santa Claus wasn’t real, Yuji stormed over to their table. Toji’s chair came down on all four legs with a loud thunk. Yuji slammed his hands down on the table with the force of someone who had been personally waiting years for this moment. “Oh, you thought you could just waltz in here and get some coffee, huh? Thought you could just live your life, huh? No responsibilities? NO CHILD SUPPORT?”

Toji squinted at him like one would a particularly annoying fly. “Kid, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

Yuji gasped again, clutching his chest like Toji had just personally stabbed him. “OH, YOU DON’T KNOW? YOU DON’T KNOW?”

He turned to you, eyes wild. “Barista. Do you know what’s happening here?”

You stared at him, dead inside. “No. I don’t even know who Gummy is.”

Yuji’s brain short-circuited. “MEGUMI.”

You shrugged. “Still don’t know who that is.”

Yuji made an incoherent noise of frustration before snapping back to Toji. “You—” he jabbed a finger at Toji’s face “—look exactly like him.”

Shiu, still recovering from his near-death experience, let out a pained wheeze. “Holy shit, my lungs."

Toji, looking deeply unbothered, took a slow sip of his coffee. “And?”

Yuji made another noise, like he was trying to restrain himself from physically shaking him.

Then, with full conviction, he declared:

“PAY YOUR CHILD SUPPORT, YOU ABSENTEE BASTARD.”

The café went silent.

Greg the Manager, in the back, paused his game of Candy Crush for once and peeked out with the cautious curiosity of a man who did not want to get involved but also couldn’t resist some workplace drama.

Toji, for his part, looked unimpressed. “That’s rich coming from a kid who looks like he gets an allowance.”

Yuji gasped. “I work for my money, actually!”

“Oh yeah?” Toji drawled, tilting his head with obnoxious amusement. “Doing what? Running errands for your grandma?”

Yuji physically reeled back, offended. “EXCUSE YOU, I AM A RESPONSIBLE TEENAGER—”

“You look like you got lost on the way to summer camp,” Toji said flatly.

“STOP DEFLECTING.”

Toji smirked, lazy and infuriating. “Nah, I like this better.”

Shiu, who had been spectating like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen, let out a low whistle. “Damn, Toji. The kid’s got a point.”

“Shut up, Shiu,” Toji muttered.

“No, don’t shut up, Shiu,” Yuji said dramatically. “Because somebody has to hold this man accountable! I demand financial reparations!”

Toji blinked at him. “…For what?”

“For Megumi! Who, by the way, had to be raised by Gojo because you decided to play the worst game of ‘Take Your Kid to Work Day’ in history!”

Gojo? The Gojo who had created a fake café loyalty program and singlehandedly made your job more difficult? That same Gojo was raising a child?

That was… deeply concerning.

At this point, you had fully leaned against the counter, watching this unfold like it was the best reality show of the year.

Toji took another slow sip of his coffee, eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re real worked up over something that has nothing to do with you.”

“Megumi’s my friend!” Yuji shot back. “And friends don’t let their friends’ deadbeat dads get away!”

Greg the Manager, still lurking in the back, tearfully muttered, “Damn, bro. That’s, like, really deep.”

You had to interject.

“Okay, just making sure—” You pointed at Toji. “—you are this Gummy guy’s dad?”

“Megumi,” Yuji corrected, exasperated.

Toji, sipping his coffee, waved a hand lazily. “Biologically, sure.”

Yuji looked personally offended by that answer and gestured wildly. “AND YOU ABANDONED HIM!”

“Yep.”

“You tried to SELL him!”

“Technically, I tried to lease him.”

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT BETTER!”

Toji just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Relax, kid. He’s fine.”

Shiu coughed, badly hiding a laugh. "You realize Toji doesn’t have money, right?”

Yuji’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

“I mean, he gets money,” Shiu clarified. “And then he immediately loses it gambling.”

Toji waved a dismissive hand. “It’s called an investment.”

Yuji faltered.

Then he recovered.

“BUT YOU SHOULD STILL FEEL BAD ABOUT IT.”

Toji did not feel bad about it.

“Maybe I’ll just start a GoFundMe for Megumi,” Yuji muttered, arms crossed, shaking his head. “‘Neglected Son of a Deadbeat Assassin, Please Help’—I bet people would donate.”

Uh. Did he just say assassin? You'll just pretend like you didn't hear that.

Shiu sighed, looking like he aged ten years. “Okay, I am done with this.” He turned to you, waving a hand in exhaustion. “Barista, I apologize for the sheer amount of bullshit you’ve had to hear in the last five minutes.”

You nodded solemnly. “Thank you for your concern.”

Yuji wasn’t done, though.

He was pacing.

Muttering things under his breath like “back pay,” and “retroactive financial penalties,”.

Toji, meanwhile, was completely unfazed. He leaned back in his chair, stretched obnoxiously, and took another slow sip of his coffee before casually standing up like this wasn’t an intervention in a café.

As Toji and Shiu made their way to the door, Yuji called after them. “This isn’t over! You better sleep with one eye open, old man!”

Toji smirked. "Not worried, kid."

With that, he strolled out of the café like he hadn’t just been publicly called out for being a deadbeat father.

Yuji exhaled sharply, turning back to you.

“Can you believe that guy?!”

You just stared at him.

“…I don’t even know what just happened."

₊⊹. tag list: @alpha-mommy69 @luluminati @amortsukii-writes @inthedarkshadows000 @isomehowexist

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #toji x reader #shiu x reader #toji fushiguro #shiu kong #choso x reader #gojo x reader #higuruma x reader #kenjaku x reader #mahito x reader #nanami x reader #naoya x reader

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moved-to-slayfk · 7 months ago

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does having my horse descriptions stolen by a big horse twitter account mean i’ve made it big …

sigh … i got them to take these two down at least, but i had to call each one out individually to them for them to do it and they said it was just an accident that they were extremely similar and that a conscious effort had been made to NOT make them similar… i feel bad making like an actual “callout” since they took the posts down and said they felt bad but when i contacted them about it they only took one post down until i specifically asked them about another so they seemed to be trying to just get away with what they could...unsure

i'm not upset about the images because the purpose of the horseimagebarn (aside from funny descriptions) is to sort and archive horse images so people can find the exact kind of horse image they're looking for with ease...what bothers me (as i am not exactly "upset" as that's a bit intense, more just annoyed and disappointed) is the use of my descriptions

i surprisingly put a lot of effort into my posts so it sucks to see someone with one of the biggest horse image/meme accounts on twitter that i previously really enjoyed and looked up to all of a sudden start stealing my posts and even when they don’t, they use really similar tone and phrasing to mine which would be fine on its own but combined with the stealing it makes me feel very strange like someone is just trying to be me somewhere else and getting a lot more attention for it (attention is not why i do this, but it's just like an extra kick to the penis to see them have so much of it for my work!!)

anyway yeah... if you know which account i am talking about don't harass them because i do NOT want to be the one to start horse image community drama (dischorse as we have coined it), hopefully they'll go back to their original style of post and it'll all be okay!! shoutout to my wonderful friends in the horseblr discord for helping me check the account and figure out the plagiarized posts i love you fellows

#posting this here instead of the barn so i can be ooc #plagiarism #twitter #horse #horses #horseposting #horseblr #horse fandom #horseimagebarn #dischorse

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jeonscape · 4 months ago

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── 𝐅𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐉.𝐊

⌗ You’re like a small deer, obliviously grazing an open field as you saunter about your kitchen; unaware of the wolf that lurks within the treeline.

wc. 896

𝖕airings stalker!jungkook 𝔁 f!reader 𝖜arnings stalking, fingering, handjob, mutual masturbation (non consensual, he gets off to watching her), obsession, Jungkook visualises himself touching the reader, heavy dub con on his thoughts.

from archive 📁 ─ first fic, well, drabble I suppose. dark content, don't like don't read! personally obsessed with the idea of jk stalking you and getting off to you without your knowledge.

Pretty.

Gentle, kind and timid. — Soft to the touch. Insignificant beneath the rough and large palms of his inked hands. Docile under his dark and demanding gaze. Jungkook imagines you as such. He has for a very long time.

You’re like a small deer, obliviously grazing an open field as you saunter about your kitchen; unaware of the wolf that lurks within the treeline. Jungkook's eyes move quickly, tracing your figure with gleam. The thick hoodie falls over the majority of his face, shielding him from unwanted attention, casting him in shadows.

Just like a deer you’re skittish. The quiet creak of floorboards makes you jump, clutching the bowl of popcorn tightly in your hands, and for a second he worries that you might catch him. But naive as you are, you never do. — Deers were always on edge yet they never seemed to know where the real dangers lay.

His hot breath fogs the cold glass of your window. Jungkook hadn’t even realized that he was near panting. Blood rushes through his veins, his heart beating with demand as he drinks in your skimpily dressed body. It was like you were purposely trying to put on a show, like you were wanting to rile him up. And he would admit, it had worked.

Jungkook follows you into your bedroom. For a moment you disappear from his vision, and he scurries past the wall of your bathroom, for there was no window there. — Then he finally settles between his favorite bushes, his gaze immediately locking on to its designated target.

You move with slow and tired intentions, lazily dragging yourself onto the mattress as you allow your limbs to go limp. You don’t even bother to pull the covers over yourself. Jungkook's heart races. Oh there’s so much he wants to do to you right now, if only you’d let him in. If only.. He bites the inside of his cheek, his brows furrowing as he watches you nearly succumb to a calm slumber.

He doesn’t want to frighten you.

The scared little deer you were. He couldn’t possibly break your window and startle you like that. How could he ever explain that he was here to help? That he could make you feel so good. — Instead he’s forced to watch as you restlessly shift on your bed, his lip twitching when he sees you slip a hand between your thighs.

God he can barely conceal his excitement. Watching as you rub your legs together, your eyes screwed shut. Dainty fingers slip beneath the cotton of your panties and your jaw slacks. Jungkook so desperately longs to hear you. He wants to absorb every little sound you make, he wants to swallow your moans with his lips on yours. He…

He slips a hand down his own pants, mindlessly groping his already hard cock, biting back a strained groan as he trains his gaze to you. — The glass of your bedroom window is dirty, it sabotages his vision, something that puts him off. But it doesn’t matter tonight, not when you’re touching yourself like that for him to see.

Jungkook tells himself that he will one day deal with it, that he will one day get to see you without that barrier of glass separating you. One day.

For now, the sight of you, sprawled out on your bed, face screwed into one of ecstasy as you slide two fingers in your slick cunt - that’s all he needs for now. And fuck, you’re gorgeous. Absolutely breathtaking. Jungkook knows he could make you feel absolutely delirious. He imagines his own fingers in your place. He imagines pushing them past your puffy folds, he imagines his inked knuckles getting covered in your arousal, in your love for him.

He wants nothing but to stuff you full with his cock. He’ll probably cum instantly, that wouldn’t matter, he’d still be hard, and he would make you take him as many times as he pleased. And oh you would love it. You would love him.

His hips buck against his hand, and Jungkook has to steady himself against the cold brick wall of your house. He knows you can’t hear the sinful and near animalistic growls currently being ripped from his chest, part of him wishes you did. He wants you to know how badly he needs you, how important you are to him, that only you can make him feel this way.

His fingers squeeze around his throbbing cock and he strokes himself with impatience, his lips parted as he watches your fingers spread yourself for him. Fuck he could cum untouched from the sight of you alone. — And when you flip over on your back, your thighs closing around your hand as your orgasm washes over you, he completely loses it.

With his forehead against the cold glass of your window, he finishes all over himself with a low moan, his breaths coming out jagged. It’s a warm buzz that surges through his entire body, his cock still rock hard in his hand as the images of you flood his mind, wrecking him entirely.

He emits a short breath, shaking his head, as if trying to find himself once more. Then he looks up, through dark and lidded eyes. — To his surprise, he finds you already watching him. And oh god, you look absolutely terrified.

Like a deer in headlights.

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iwtv-theories · 4 months ago

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The more I think about it… the more I believe Marius wiped Daniel’s memories & messed with Armand’s childhood memories .

Marius messing with Daniel’s memories would be a parallel to how in the books: Marius (for a while) was a barrier between Daniel and Armand eventually getting back together. And we see in the first episode , Daniel’s memoir (about his faulty memories) was published under Roman Weiss (a possible Romanus easteregg since Marius was prideful about being a Roman). Not to mention the shot where Daniel stares at Marius’ painting and says “never heard of him” while Armand is blurred in the background . This could be another hint that Marius blurred his memories of Armand .

Plus, when Daniel has archives of Armand and Louis he first types into the search bar “Marius de Romanus” . It could indicate his subconscious may remember something about Marius. Which is why he seems to have such an interest in him.

Marius forever altering Armand’s loving relationships because he thinks he knows what’s best for Armand is why he turned Sybil and Benji against Armand’s wishes , and behind his back. Armand claims that Marius changed them as an act of spite because Armand could not be the fledgling Marius wanted him to be. So it wouldn’t be that out of character to mess with Daniel’s memories (behind Armand’s back for similar reasons ). And I do wonder if he messed with Amadeo’s memories too.

In the books Armand’s dad was attacked when chasing down the slavers . So , the show change of his parents selling him is interesting. Maybe it’s just an adaption change but maybe it’s more sinister than that . And in the show adaption Marius altered that memory (cause he wanted Amadeo to believe he was the only loving ‘father figure’ in Amadeo’s life/ the first person to ever love him). If that’s the case that opens a lot of other horrifying possibilities . For instance, Marius (in the show) may have done so since he wanted to ‘groom’ Amadeo in to the perfect companion: “ to make a blood drinker for my own companionship, indeed to educate a mortal youth for this very purpose, and to GROOM HIM EXPERTLY so that he might be the finest choice.” / “A helpless child. I could mold you and change you, all of which I've done." And,in the books … Armand’s fav movie is blade runner (and he related to the replicant who wanted to k*ll its maker ) : In Blade Runner, implanted memories were used as a way to control replicants. Hmmmm . To be fair, it wouldn’t surprise me at all that Armand doesn’t remember certain things because of tra*ma .I believe some of his amnesia is from that.

But, also in the books there were lines that could be recontextualized in the show as foreshadowing that Marius altered Armand’s memories. Marius about Amadeo's childhood memories: " I had labored long and hard in Venice to erase (Amadeo's) memory of the monastary." Marius to Amadeo : "whatever the past hammered into your soul let it go... Don’t chase these memories" . Amadeo : "(Marius') mumbled words. By the end of week I could not remember one word of my mother tongue.”

The lines made me recall how Armand in the show mentions “tabula rasa” ( which in Latin means “blank slate”) . In philosophy tabula rasa is a theory that says : at birth the mind is hypothetically a blank or empty slate before receiving memories that shape them into who they are. '

‘Tabula rasa' originates from ancient ROMAN civilization. The term comes from the Roman tabula, a wax-covered tablet used for notes, which was blanked (rasa) by heating the wax and then smoothing it. In the books Armand called himself a " wax doll". And maybe Armand and his tablet obsession is a word pun. Hm?

Would Marius be interested in testing the theory of 'tabula rasa' in order to make the “perfect companion” ? Amadeo essentially was a blank slate for Marius to shape . He was mute and barely remembered anything of his past before Marius - a blank slate that Marius would have benefitted from. Was this just a coincidence? Did he chose him for this reason? Or did Marius have something to do with it? Later in the books he wanted to help Armand recall his forgotten memories but the show may go in another direction entirely . There must be some significant reason to introduce this new power to the canon? Marius: "some memories will yield nothing of their beauty or their splendor. Rather they remain as hard as gems "/ "Memory knows that we cannot endure its company. Memory would reduce us to fools"/Memory was a curse, yes, he thought, but it was also the greatest gift. Because if you lost memory you lost everything. memory is desperate to leave us."

Would he try to mess with Armand’s memories even in the 70s/80s???! I don’t necessarily believe he’d go that far to be honest. Unless Armand had such a negative reaction to him wiping Daniel’s memories that Marius decided to just cover his tracks and brain wipe Armand too .In the books , Lestat could ‘mind -read / speak’ to his fledglings cause he drank from Akasha . So since Marius also drank from her - he may (theoretically) be able to mess with Armand’s mind in the 80s. If so, the biggest “telenovela “ twist would be that Armand doesn’t remember devil’s minion either . 😅

#armandaniel #devil’s minion #armand #daniel molloy #amc iwtc

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leveragehunters · 2 years ago

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Downloading fanfic from AO3

I've been downloading a lot of fanfic lately for personal archival purposes, and I figured I'd share how I do it in case it's useful to anyone else (and so I have it written down in case I forget!).

There are lots of different ways to save fic, including the file download built into AO3, but I find that this gives me the nicest ebooks in the most efficient way.

(Under a cut cause long.)

Download Calibre: https://calibre-ebook.com/ or (clickable link).

Calibre is about the best ebook management and control program around and it's free. You can get it for windows, mac, and linux or download and run it from a portable storage device (I'm using a windows PC).

Install it and run it. It's gonna ask you where you want to put your library. Dealer's choice on this one. I recommend your internal drive (and then back up to external/cloud), but YMMV.

If you want to keep fanfic separate from the rest of your ebooks, you can create multiple libraries. I do, and my libraries are creatively named 'Books' and 'Fic'.

Customise Calibre

Now you're gonna install some plugins. Go to Preferences on the menu bar (far right), click its little side arrow, then choose 'Get plugins to enhance Calibre'.

At the top right of the box that pops up is 'Filter by name'. The plugins you want to get are:

EpubMerge

FanFicFare

Install them one at a time. It will ask you where you want them. I recommend 'the main bar' and 'the main bar when device is attached' (should be selected by default). When you're done, close and reopen Calibre.

The plugins you just installed should appear on the far right of the toolbar, but if you can't see one or both of them, fear not! Just click Preferences (the button, not the side arrow), then Toolbars and Menus (in the 'Interface' section) then choose the main toolbar from the drop down menu. That will let you add and remove things - I suggest getting rid of Donate, Connect Share, and News. That'll leave you room to add your new plugins to the menu bar.

(Do donate, though, if you can afford it. This is a hell of a program.)

Now you're ready to start saving your fave fanfic!

Saving fanfic

I'll go through both methods I use, but pick whatever makes you happy (and/or works best for what you're downloading).

ETA: if the fics are locked you can't easily use FanFicFare. Skip down to the next section. (It does ask for a username/password if you try and get a locked fic, but it's never worked for me - I had to edit the personal.ini in the configuration options, and even then it skips locked fics in a series.)

Calibre and FanFicFare

You can work from entirely within Calibre using the FanFicFare plugin. Just click its side arrow and pick from the menu. The three main options I use are download from URL, make anthology from a webpage, and update story/anthology.

Download from URL: pick Download from URL (or just click the FanFicFare button) and paste the fic's URL into the box (if you've copied it to your clipboard, it will be there automatically). You can do more than one fic at a time - just paste the URLs in one after the other (each on a new line). When you're done, make sure you have the output format you want and then go.

Make Anthology Epub From Web Page: if you want a whole series as a single ebook, pick Anthology Options, then Make Anthology Epub From Webpage. Paste the series URL into the box (if you've copied it to your clipboard, it will be there automatically), click okay when it displays the story URLs, check your output format and go.

Update series/anthology: if you downloaded an unfinished fic or series and the author updates, you can automatically add the update to your ebook. Just click on the ebook in Calibre, open the FanFicFare menu using its side arrow, and select either Update Existing FanFic Books or Anthology Options, Update Anthology epub. Okay the URLs and/or the output format, then go.

Any fic downloaded using FanFicFare will be given an automatically generated Calibre cover. You can change the cover and the metadata by right clicking on the title and picking edit metadata. You can do it individually, to change the cover or anything else specific to that ebook, or in bulk, which is great for adding a tag or series name to multiple fics. Make sure you generate a new cover if you change the metadata.

Browser plugins, Calibre, and EpubMerge

You can also use a browser addon/plugin to download from AO3. I use FicLab (Firefox/Chrome), but I believe there's others. FicLab: https://www.ficlab.com/ (clickable link).

FicLab puts a 'Save' button next to fic when you're looking at a list of fics, eg search results, series page, author's work list etc. Just click the 'Save' button, adjust the settings, and download the fic. You can also use it from within the fic by clicking the toolbar icon and running it.

FicLab is great if you're reading and come across a fic you want to save. It also generates a much nicer (IMO) cover than Calibre.

You can add the downloaded fic to Calibre (just drag and drop) or save it wherever. The advantage to dropping it into Calibre is that all your fic stays nicely organised, you can adjust the metadata, and you can easily combine fics.

Combining fics

You can combine multiple fics into an anthology using EpubMerge. This is great if you want a single ebook of an author's short fics, or their AUs, or their fics in a specific ship that aren't part of a series. (It only works on epubs, so if you've saved as some other format, you'll need to convert using Calibre's Convert books button.)

Select the ones you want to combine, click EpubMerge, adjust the order if necessary, and go.

The cover of the merged epubs will be the cover of the first fic in the merge list. You can add a new cover by editing the metadata and generating a new cover.

Combing with FanFicFare

You can also combine nonseries fics using FanFicFare's Make Anthology ePub from URLs option by pasting the individual fic URLs into the box.

Where there's more than a few fics, I find it easier to download them with FicLab and combine them with EpubMerge, and I prefer keeping both the combined and the individual versions of fic, but again YMMV.

Reconverting and Converting

Once I'm done fussing, I reconvert the ebook to the same format, to ensure everything is embedded in the file. Is this necessary? YMMV, but it's a quick and easy step that does zero harm.

If you don't want your final ebook to be an epub, just convert it to whatever format you like.

Disclaimers

Save fanfic for your own personal enjoyment/offline reading/safeguarding against the future. If it's not your fic, don't distribute it, or upload it to other sites, or otherwise be a dick. Especially if the author deletes it. Respect their wishes and their rights.

This may work on other fanfic sites, eg FFN, but I've never tried so I don't know.

If you download a fic, do leave the author a kudo or a comment; you'll make them so happy.

This is how I save fic. I'm not pretending it's the only way, or even the best way! This is just the way that works for me.

#fanfic #fic #ao3 #ficlab #calibre #fanficfare #epubmerge #downloading fanfic #adding the my fic tag so I can find this again #my fic

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dark-frosted-heart · 9 months ago

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Roger Barel Main Route - Mad Love Chapter 24 Premium Story

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

NSFW, MINORS DNI

When I threw my ordinary life away and told him my feelings, Roger said…

“Throw it all away and become my lover.”

The most egoistical man had stolen away my heart and body tonight.

—When the door closed, I couldn’t help but clutch the front of my blouse.

Roger and I entered a room of an inn close to the bar; the large bed inside made its presence very known.

(Roger’s made my body feel good in so many ways)

(It all started on a day I got drunk, and then what followed was…feeling all sorts of pleasure with fingers and tongue—)

The thought of experiencing pleasure even greater than that had my eyes burn and tear up with anticipation and embarrassment.

Roger: …

I was taken aback by Roger’s intense gaze and felt my cheeks warm.

Kate: …What is it?

Roger: The way you were bawling your eyes out because of how you wanted to be strong really hit me, but I also thought that crying face would make me cum. I just wanna make you cry even more now. Seal your lips and prod you where it’s all wet*. Have you soaked with tears all throughout the night.

Kate: …

His lips were against my ear, and the low whisper was enough to make me feel weak.

Because this wasn’t Roger’s delusion.

Within this room, it would become a reality.

Roger: You’ll be okay. Your sensitive body can handle it.

Kate: I’m not worried about that. Anyway…

I hesitated for a moment before I clasped my hands tightly in front of my chest and looked directly at Roger.

Kate: Even if it hurts, don’t stop… You’ve been self-indulgent. I want you to make me cry a lot…That’s why I’m here!

Roger: Haaa…you’re so damn cute! Let’s make a mess of the bed together.

He lifted me up with enthusiasm and the next thing I knew, I found myself bouncing on the sheets.

Kisses rained down upon me.

Kate: …Nnn…nnn, haaa..aaahn

As we kissed, my skirt and blouse slipped off my bare skin. Roger then undid his shirt.

Roger: …You don’t need this either.

He removed the gun from my garter belt and placed it on the bedside table.

Roger: Though the more I look at your garter belts, the sexier they feel. The feeling of holding a strong woman is the biggest turn on.

The fingers on the garter belt stroked my thigh and slowly made their way up.

Kate: Haa…

When his fingers approached my core, I arched my back as a sweet tingling sensation spread throughout my body. Wet sounds could be heard from the space between my legs.

Roger: You’re soaking wet. Can you feel how tight you’re squeezing my fingers here?

When those rough fingers that were used to handling a rifle pumped in and out of me, an irresistible pleasure ran through me.

Kate: I do…your fingers…haa

That place took his fingers in with ease and tightened around them.

As if saying “hurry up, I want it.”

It didn’t matter how shy I was, my desires were getting too big to hide—

Kate: Stop teasing and just put it in…Roger…I want you…

I reached down between his legs and loosened the front.

When the heat that couldn’t be contained within his underwear fell out of his cramped pants, I brought it to my lips.

(I need to get Roger wet too…)

Roger: …O_O

Roger’s breath hitched in surprise and then he started breathing heavily.

I was so entranced by his pleased sounds that I wanted to take more of him in my mouth.

Roger: …Haaa, Kate…

As he messily stroked my hair, he continued to grow harder.

Kate: Mnnnn, Roger.

(It’s too big to take it all in)

But I wanted to make Roger feel good. Tears welled up as I did my best to take the bulbous tip in my mouth.

Roger: Ahhh, I could cum like this… Still, I want us to feel good together.

Kate: Ah…Roger.

Roger lifted me up and placed me on his chest.

He pulled me toward him by the waist and settled his face between my legs.

(Together…!)

The second I understood what he meant, I was hit with brain-melting pleasure.

Kate: Ah, aahhh, aaaa…

Roger: …Mmnn…It’s still flowing out even with each lick.

Aroused by his voice, I forgot any sense of embarrassment I had and ran my lips and tongue over his swelling heat.

Kate: Mmm…Roger.

The pleasure was so intense that my cheeks and eyelashes were stained with tears—

And then, all I could do was moan as I arched my back while straddling Roger’s face.

Kate: Ahnn, ahhh, mnnn, Roger, Roger…

Roger: Ahhh, if you’re gonna cry like that, then I wanna see your crying face.

The moment his tongue left, I collapsed onto the bed.

As I laid on the sheets, I felt a muscular chest over me.

Roger: …I’m done with putting it off. I’m gonna take all of you.

Roger parted my legs and sank in.

Kate: Aahh…—

My vision went white as I felt a pulsing heat enter me.

—The next time I came to, I saw Roger hovering over looking worried.

Kate: …Roger?

Roger: The moment I put it in, you passed out.

Kate: Then…

Roger: Nope, the fun’s just begun.

Roger lightly rocked his hips.

Kate: …

My cheeks warmed when I realized he was still inside.

As he continued rocking his hips, I started panting.

Kate: Nnn, ahhhh…you’re so deep…it feels so good.

Roger: We’re gonna do it. …And then we’re gonna indulge in this pleasure all night long.

Kate: Yes…Roger.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close.

Feeling the warmth of my loved one made me unconditionally happy…

Roger: Kate…love’s the best thing. I’ll never betray my feelings for you…ever.

Tender whispers that fell against my eyelids made me even more drunk on happiness.

Kate: It’s thanks to you that this love’s so wonderful. I’m glad I fell in love with you…I love you, always.

Roger: Yeah, me too.

My body was aching so sweetly as he hugged me tight, and when he thrusted hard, it sent me over the edge.

Roger’s heat continued to fill me and I kept moaning all night long—

*originally sticky, gooey. I absolutely refuse to use any word describing a thick liquid’s consistency in this scenario.

:3c I'd like to formally apologize for misleading y'all into it was just face sitting when they were actually 69ing.

#ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil translations #roger barel #ikevil roger #ikevil roger route

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archives-of-a-hidden-writer · 3 months ago

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Surprise

Gi-hun & In-ho X FormerVIP!Reader

》Typing... |

》 [Entry No.007 - Surprise]|

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》 Summary: After the 33rd Squid Game, you haven't had a single thrill and enthusiasm run through you after. That is until a years later, you got a little message where they're recruiting people for a new Squid game. And being the curious person you are, you wondered if its more fun being IN the game than watching it. |

》 Warnings: SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE SERIES, Large Change of Story, reader is player '455', enemies to something else type trope(on Gi-hun), reader purposely teasing Gi-hun, reader is basically In-ho but much more outer with their chaos, In-ho knows how you look-like under the mask and vice-versa. |

》 Archive Entry Loaded ◇

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You sighed, taking in the large room that is the dormitory to where you woke up to. You were half expecting this place to be the same. It's been a while, after all. 'Little change, not going to lie,' you thought to yourself as you've taken notice the designs on the walls of the dormitory, different from the one you noticed when you were a VIP.

As everyone awoke and started gathering in the middle just as the same old pink guards appeared in front, they welcomed everyone for what's about to happen.

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'There he is...' you thought to yourself as you, along with the rest of the players, lined up to take pictures for their profile, and among those players was Player 456, the former player and winner of the previous Squid Games. It also seemed he had plans for this Squid Game.

As the screen took a picture of you, you then followed the rest through the maze of stairs towards the 1st game round.

Meanwhile, as your profile appeared on the screen floor in the management room, someone noticed it. More so, the Frontman did. How couldn't he? Both of you showed your faces to each other during the Squid Game show the Frontman had done for the 33rd Squid Games. Despite the both of you knowing that it is against the rules to remove our given masks, we both still did. Why? Neither of you knew, but remember the soft feeling between the two of you as you two separated from the other VIPs as they took breaks and lounged in the VIP room.

From then on, the Frontman failed to forget about you, secretly hoping there's a chance or a way for you to reunite with him again. Yet it was as if the Gods heard him and fulfilled his wish, but in the most fucked up way possible as he stared down on your number tile, smiling so brightly yet chaotically as the camera took the picture.

Cursing under his breath, many thoughts and questions ran through his mind as to why and how you manage to get yourself into this mess into these games.

As he continued to stare, the square manager wearing all black looked at him as he continued to do so.

"Someone familiar, Sir?" the manager asked, earning a shook of the Frontman's head, but deep down, he does. Not familiar, but someone he couldn't get out of his head.

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"1st Game, red light, green light," the announcer above spoke as the doll started to move, rotating its upper body around and moving its arm up as if covering it.

The players around you murmured around you as they questioned the game, a kid's game, in fact. All you can do is stare in awe but also smirk at the people around you. They're up for a hell ride for the first game.

As this goes on, the Frontman tensed ever so often in his little theatre room as the cameras showed everyone, but his eyes remained on your back, your number flashing at him as if mocking him, that thanks to him, you found your way back but under the worst way possible.

For now, all he can do is watch, watch, and hope that you'll survive this 1st round.

That was when player 456 ran in front and screamed to listen to him, and of course, unlike the players who are new to this, you listened. Why wouldn't you? He played this before, but something tells you that this is the only game that will be similar to the previous Squid game.

As the man shouted for everyone to freeze when the doll turned, everyone ignored him as if he was going crazy. As you approach past him, you whispered to him, "It's hopeless to be a hero here," you whispered, making his eyes widen, yet he couldn't do anything, can't he? The doll turned again, and you cheekily hopped across the field before the doll turned its head once more. You were about to do something devilish until you heard a woman scream before getting shot seconds after. It was followed by another scream of a woman and a lot more people as they get shot due to moving while the doll is still looking. While this all happened, all you can do is silently giggled It looks like you didn't have to do all the work after all.

As the doll turned its head again, you went for it. You noticed how everyone lined up to prevent themselves from getting detected, and of course, you were on the edge of one of the lines.

Just as the man screamed again as everyone lined up, you smiled and pushed the people in front of you, roughly getting at least 6 of them as they all looked back in shock and betrayal before getting ultimately shot, blood splattering not only on the ground but a few on you as well.

As the doll turned its head back again, you continued moving without care, occasionally tripping a few players here and there. Some got shot because of it, and some survived. Meanwhile, back at In-ho, he didn't know whether or not should he be concerned or grateful for you as on one hand, who were jeopardizing Gi-hun's plan, but on the other hand, you were playing with life and death with your theatrics. Yet, all he can do is watch, for now.

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A soft giggle escaped you as you sat back in one of the bunk beds. Although there were a few nasty glares coming your way due to the fact that you basically brought death to some of the players you pursued towards player 456.

"Player 456, is it?" You asked, and of course, you were returned with a glare from the player. You only smiled to this before extending your hand out to him. You told him your name, and you asked for his, "May I know your name?" you asked him. He seemed hesitant at first, the memory of my words and my doings during the first game still fresh in his memory. Yet, you sadly didn't get his name as you and the other's attention was brought by the pink guards who entered the dormitory, ultimately causing everyone to started bowing and apologizing to them due to a misunderstanding of the games.

"There must be a misunderstanding," the pink guard standing in the middle spoke before explaining the game's rules once more, meanwhile, you leaned over one of the bunk's pole just as player 456 slowly approached the middle, speaking how it was said in the rules that everyone can choose a vote whether or not they could leave after each round, to which, the pink guard confirmed his words. And so, the voting began.

The pink guard explained how the voting system works, 'x' for those who wish to leave the game and 'o' for those who wishes to continue, whichever side wins would decipher the next course of action.

It then started, with player 456 starting the voting. Sure enough, he voted 'x', the pink guard handed him his patch before he walked away to the side of 'x'. You then followed, being the player number lower than him by a point, and of course, you voted 'o'. You took your patch and patted it to your jacket before walking away, not while sending Gi-hun a wink with a cheeky smile. He returned the gesture with another harsh glare. Oh, this will be a fun round of games.

As the voting came to its close end, the voting came to a tie, making the last remaining player decipher the next move. To continue or to leave. With a press of a button, 'o' had the winning vote, earning cheerful scream from those who chose 'o', including yourself.

While you cheered with the rest of the 'o' voters, someone watches you as they approach the same group, In-ho. On the contrary, he was in a battle of himself as he chose whether to continue or not, but he must continue the games. Yet, what about you? It was clear you wanted to continue as well, but would you even survive? Yet all those thoughts quieted out as he heard your voice amidst the screams of both teams, cheering and jumping as you chant 'o' over and over again. So you wanted to play, then let's play.

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"Excuse me," a familiar voice came to you as you lay there on one of the bunk beds, you looked to see the all too familiar man you saw all those years ago, "In-" you got up, about to say his real name before he stopped you. Covering your mouth with his hand, he hushed you, "Young-il, call me Young-il for now..." he spoke in a shushed voice. You nodded before he moved his hand away from your mouth.

There was a small silence that came after the short conversation until you spoke, "So? After that, 456 as well?" You teased, leaning forward towards In-ho. A part of you hoped he still had that same feeling the two of you had during the last Squid Game as you leaned close to him, "His name is Gi-hun, but yes," In-ho replied, earning a nod and hum from you as he casually said the truth.

Just then, he held you by your wrist and pulled you back in, "But what the hell are you doing here?" In-ho asked. There was a glint of worry clouded by irritation and annoyance behind his eyes as you shrugged and giggled at him, "Cause I want to see you again? I also want to know what it's like to see the games in the players' perspective, and it looked like you do too?" you asked him, lightly tapping the '001' patch on his jacket. He onlu grumbled and let go of you. You know, I looked back at that player 456, and a little idea came into my mind.

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"Help us, Sir... I pressed the 'o' because of you," In-ho said, making the impression of desperation in money and fear, "You made me think I could maybe play just one more game," he continued, earning agreements and 'same's from the rest of the people with us. It kind of sucked considering how you acted when you voted 'o' earlier, and so, you just looked away, head down as if you regretted your decisions.

You could feel Gi-hun's gaze at you before looking away as In-ho spoke, averting his attention, "Sir, you know which game's next, don't you?" he asked, earning a 'That's right' from Gi-hun, "You're a previous winner, that meant you should know, correct?" you asked him, finally looking back at him whilst trying to look as desperate as possible.

Gi-hun just looked at you before looking back down, "The second game... Was Dalgona," Gi-hun said. You looked back at In-ho as he looked like he had something up his sleeves. Something told you that things had changed completely.

"Dalgona?" You asked, "The one where you could carve shapes out of?" you added, earning another agree from Gi-hun. Gi-hun then continued to explain the second game's premise as you fought the urge to hold a smirk, knowing In-ho, he wouldn't repeat the same games again. The doll was just a hoax for Gi-hun to fall to.

Meanwhile, as everyone thought of strategies and thoughts for the second game, Gi-hun's eyes slowly went to you. Sure, you were something of a chaotic little thing, but somehow, you were different, like something about you pulling him. Little was he aware, In-ho felt the same thing towards you, but unlike the two men, you are well aware of the effects you could have, and you were well aware that sooner or later, both men would be falling in love with you

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》 Archiver's Notes: In all honesty, I didn't know what to do as plot for these two, then I remembered the VIPs of season 1(with the addition of the theory that one of the S2 players were actually one of the VIPs just because they share the same actor), so why not use that as the backstory of the plot. Also, I may avert from the Squid Game for now. Keyword, maybe.

#🔷️archives #squid game #squid game x reader #gi hun squid game #hwang inho #in ho squid game #gi hun x reader x in ho #gi hun x reader #in ho x reader

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silenzahra · 6 months ago

Text

⚡ An electrical aura ⚡

Ah, it feels so good to be back with a new story after so long! 😌

As I mentioned here, in this fic you will find one of my favorite topics to consume in any kind of fanwork:

✨⚡ Protective Luigi ⚡✨

I would've liked to post this story a couple of days ago to coincide with Mario and Luigi's birthday (even though the story has nothing to do with the date itself) as a way of celebrating their bond as brothers that we all love and adore so much 🥹💚❤️

Still, I'm glad I can share it now as this is one of the many fanfics I've been planning to write... for more than a year 😶

And at long last, here it is! 😄

@pepperycar @bberetd @vulpixfairy1985 @megamagimugi @peaches2217 @zocchini37 @itsavee4117 @multicolour-ink @dragon-fly34 @eleventhhourfactor @stripetkattelalala54-gf @kelbreyworshipper @doodleydoo101 @c-lavanda and anyone else who might be interested: hope you enjoy! 💖

And as always: you can keep reading under the cut if you'd like! 👇

(Please remember that likes, comments, kudos, reblogs and any kind of feedback is always more than welcome 🥰)

EDIT (29-3-2025): Should've edited this post earlier to add that I wrote a second chapter for this, this one from Mario's perspective, and it can also be found on AO3! ❤️

⚡ An electrical aura ⚡

TW: Blood, violence (not too much though)

Luigi doesn't like being separated from his brother.

It was hard enough having to leave him behind when he got sick to go in search of the antidote. Luigi swallows as he remembers how scared he was when he saw Mario's skin turn green after consuming that strange mushroom and how his feet practically flew to the Mushroom Kingdom embassy, carrying his twin in his arms, to take him to the princess and try to get him help.

This time, however, at least Luigi has the comfort and relief of knowing that his brother is safe, even if he’s not at his side.

The moment they came across that first barred door, Luigi immediately understood that his twin wouldn’t have a chance to follow him, that he’d have to go on alone and that Mario would have to find his own way. Luigi gave him a glance full of consternation and, for a very brief moment, his brother returned exactly the same look. Before, of course, forcing himself to hide it so as not to show discouragement in front of his little brother and, instead, give him a reassuring grin.

Luigi smiles to himself as a pleasant tenderness spreads across his chest and warms his heart. That's his big brother: always ready to appear strong and confident to protect his younger sibling and not to worry him, all with the purpose of preventing Luigi’s anxiety from getting any worse.

Looking around, Luigi puts his hands to his chest in some sort of reflex action, trying to keep the warmth that the thought of his brother brings up inside him. For, not to his luck, everything around him is ice and more ice. Joke’s End is an inhospitable, deserted, cold place. It certainly serves its purpose of functioning as a kind of graveyard for jokes, for while the other places in the Beanbean Kingdom that he and Mario have visited had much more cheerful names and were also full of life, this place is far from the mainland and, except for the monsters and that strange blue girl with the scepter that has greeted them, it’s also the loneliest place in the entire kingdom.

Luigi hugs himself as he continues looking at his surroundings with a parched throat and a sense of dread growing inside him. He’s never felt so alone in his entire life.

He only hopes that this ordeal is about to end. He followed the path marked by the place itself, hit the necessary blocks and battled alone against various monsters, despite the insecurity produced by not having his twin with him so that they could perform their combined attacks.

Not to mention the several occasions on which he’s been able to see Mario through a barred door without either of them finding a way to bridge the distance between them. All those times, Luigi has clung to the bars as if he could make them disappear in his fingers so he could finally be reunited with his brother, and Mario hasn’t hesitated to approach him and place his hands on his twin’s, gazing at him affectionately while he gave him words of encouragement and, again, smiles filled with confidence.

“Soon we'll be together, Lu,” he assured him, and Luigi could practically touch the certainty that permeated every word his brother spoke. “We'll soon find a way, you'll see.”

Despite his anxiety and his many insecurities, Luigi has never doubted Mario. He always believes in his promises, unquestioningly, because he knows that his twin wouldn't tell him if he didn't truly believe in them and if he wasn't willing to do everything in his power to keep them.

And he always does. Mario has never, ever failed Luigi. Not once in their entire lives.

Therefore, Luigi trusts. He trusts Mario blindly, just as he has since the day they were born, and he’ll continue to trust him until the day he dies.

So that's what keeps him going: the certitude that Mario's words will come true sooner or later. The assurance that everything his brother tells him is as true as the sun will always rise at the end of the darkest night and the light will shine again. Just as bright as Mario’s smile.

This time, whether they manage to reunite depends on a strange puzzle that, once again, they must solve by working together, even though they’re physically separated. This is not the first time, of course: when they’ve seen each other through barred doors, it’s been because they had to hit twin blocks in unison in order to activate different mechanisms, and there have even been times when they haven’t been able to see one another but have felt each other's presence through the thick walls of ice that make up Joke’s End.

As Luigi hits this last block, he hears a sound coming from outside. Both he and Mario have just crossed walkways that ran parallel to each other and converged at two different doors in the building, and they’ve helped each other to move forward until they’ve reached, at least in Luigi's case, a dead-end room. After hitting the block, Luigi retraces his steps towards the walkway he has just crossed and discovers that a frozen bridge has emerged between the two.

“Yes!”

Luigi can't and won't hold back the squeal of relief and excitement that bubbles up from his throat. Without wasting any time, he runs across the footbridge to cross to the other side and begins to follow the path that Mario must have taken. He wonders if he’ll bump into his sibling, if he too has started running, if he’s as eager as Luigi is to hold him in his arms. The smile on the younger plumber’s face widens, for he’s sure that Mario feels the same way. He’s about to join his big brother in a tight embrace, and this time, he won’t let Mario get away from him again.

Then, as he climbs up some latticed platforms, a high-pitched scream rings in his ears and is suddenly cut off.

Due to the surprise, Luigi almost stops in his tracks as he feels how the air escapes from his lungs and an icy fist grips his heart. And it has nothing to do with the cold prevailing in the place.

It only takes him a moment, however, to resume running, giving his legs more speed.

“Mario!”

He leaps over some ice blocks and manages to reach the next room. He skids across the ice when he realizes that he’s at a high location and that, to his right and left, there are two sets of steps leading down to the bottom of the room.

And down there, right in the middle, is Mario.

The blood runs cold in Luigi's veins as he discovers his brother lying on the ground, completely motionless, with traces of dirt on his clothes and a red stain crowning his forehead, his hat fallen just short of his head. With a horrified gasp, Luigi doesn't give it a second thought: he runs to the edge of the step, bends down and jumps, landing in a crouch a short distance from where Mario lays. He moves practically on all fours towards his twin, his heart pounding in his chest and his eyes so wide that he thinks they'll end up popping out of their sockets.

“Mario,” he mumbles in a nervous whisper.

He carefully places a hand under Mario's head and slowly lifts him up as he slides his knees under his body to try to give him some comfort. He pulls him closer as he continues to whisper his name, but his brother does not respond. There’s blood on his neck and one of his knees, Luigi notices. Feeling the anguish growing inside him, he examines the crimson stain on Mario's forehead, as it seems to be the most serious wound. His white glove is immediately covered in red. Wheezing, Luigi raises his hand in front of his face and stares at it, blinking in awe, as if his brain is having trouble processing what his eyes are seeing.

Mario's blood coats Luigi’s fingers.

The distress that floods him begins to transform, little by little, into something different. Something that causes small sparks of electricity to sizzle around him.

It is then that he becomes aware of their presence.

Luigi blinks a little to focus his eyes, as they’re blurry, he doesn't know why, and lowers his hand without any haste. He places it protectively on Mario's chest, which, fortunately, rises and falls, evidence that he continues to breathe, albeit slowly and heavily. Luigi pulls him a little closer to himself, his hand still holding his twin's head with extreme care. His breathing is getting more and more arduous and laborious, and his cheeks are getting wet, but he’s not even aware of it.

In front of him stand three of the many monsters that plague the place. Luigi has faced several of them before, both alone and in the company of his brother, so he recognizes them immediately. A Glurp, which spews toxic clouds that have on occasion poisoned him or Mario, causing his sibling to be extremely grateful for Luigi's efforts to carry extra Refreshing Herbs in their luggage. An Ice Snifit, whose spiky chunks of ice have frozen his soul and against which only his brother's Firebrand has been effective enough to eradicate its effects.

And lastly... a Clumph.

His green skin makes Luigi think of a nurse’s uniform. His purple hair reminds him of a bunch of grapes.

And finally... that huge club that he carries everywhere.

In all likelihood, this Clumph is the main reason why his big brother is lying unconscious in his arms.

Out of pure instinct, Luigi squeezes Mario a little tighter as his brow furrows. How dare that damned Clumph hurt his twin in such a way. How dare he stand there, in front of him, carrying his club on his shoulder as if he hadn't just dealt it with all his might on Mario's forehead. How dare he give him that goofy look with which he pretends to be completely innocent.

How dare he.

“How dare you,” Luigi mumbles without even being aware of it.

The particles of electricity around Luigi have increased in intensity and power. His breathing has accelerated so much that snorts escape from his mouth, and the hair on his arms has bristled under his green shirt. The plumber hears the roar of thunder, but he can’t tell where it comes from. He does take a glimpse of a glow that illuminates the place green, though. Without taking his eyes off the Clumph, Luigi reaches an arm over Mario to grab his brother’s hat and places it under his twin’s head as he lays him extremely gently on the ground. Then, taking his time, he stands up. His enemies don't miss his every move either, the Ice Snifit and Glurp ready to attack.

Luigi, however, is not going to give them the slightest chance.

His veins burn so much that he feels like he's going to explode at any moment. Rage has invaded every inch of his body and is spreading through his nerve endings like a thunderstorm that threatens to burst and destroy him in the process.

Luigi is more than willing to let it out.

He can't remember ever feeling this way, either before or after acquiring his Thunderhand, but he's not going to hold back. These enemies dared to touch his brother. They dared to attack him when Luigi was finally on his way to reunite with him. They dared to inflict Mario a wound that has robbed him of consciousness. They dared to spill his blood.

It will be the last thing they will do in their lives.

Anger controls his every move when Luigi unhurriedly steps over Mario's body and walks heavily towards his rivals, as if he were nothing more than a puppet in the hands of the strongest wrath. Although they try to look determined and ready to fight, the monsters sense the aura that surrounds Luigi, the aura of someone who is willing to do anything to get revenge, the aura of someone who will stop at nothing to protect what is most precious to him in the world.

An electrical aura that brings thunder at lightning in its wake.

As he walks, Luigi clenches his fists at his sides and rebellious sparks escape from them. He feels that both his mustache and his hair under his hat have bristled, and his cheeks are now so dampened that he feels them cold, but he doesn't care. He continues to move, his breathing harsh and uneasy, his heart pounding in his chest, and he feels an unexpected surge of satisfaction sweep over him when he realizes that his enemies, cornered, have bumped into the icy wall of the building surrounding them.

They have no escape.

Luigi's fury, on the other hand, does.

Growling under his breath, the plumber closes his eyes and allows the energy pulsing in his veins to take complete control.

His arms rise up, his palms pointing towards his enemies. Electricity courses through his body, surging from deep within him and rushing to his hands. Against all odds, a sense of warm calm invades Luigi as he feels his electric magic dance up and down, flooding every inch of his body, reaching every corner of his essence and causing a fleeting smile to play across his lips.

He has never felt so powerful.

Before the first streak bursts from Luigi's fingertips, his eyelids part, but there’s no trace of pupil in his gaze.

There’s only room for electricity.

Luigi's eyes are entirely white as his power begins, at last, to be released. Jets of light, sometimes blue, sometimes green, emerge from his hands, lethal, deadly, and it takes Luigi a moment to realize that he’s begun to emit a low snarl that, gradually, turns into a scream with which he frees all the emotions that boil inside him. The fear of losing his brother. The rage for what they’ve done to him. The thirst for revenge, which had never before blinded him so much.

In fact, Luigi realizes that everything he sees is white. An immaculate white, dotted with sizzling green and blue flashes, which prevent him from checking what his magic is doing, what his hands are causing. Nor is he able to perceive any sound, as if his ears were underwater, in a completely silent limbo that has cut him off from the outside world.

However, he quickly decides that he doesn't care. He doesn't care, because he feels invincible. He’s filled with fierce drive that fuels his power and begs him to go on, to not stop, to continue giving it free rein. The euphoria of the moment is so strong that it becomes addictive, something Luigi clings to with all his might.

It's all for his brother.

Mario deserves that and more. Mario deserves the whole world.

Despite Luigi’s blindness, which, he hopes, is temporary, the image of his twin appears clearly in front of him. His beloved Mario, always so cheerful and smiling, always ready to fight for those he loves, always ready for battle. Always determined to protect Luigi and spare him all harm, but also full of unshakable faith in his little sibling.

A faith that has always been Luigi's driving force throughout his entire life.

If it were not for Mario, Luigi simply wouldn’t believe in himself. If it were not for Mario, Luigi wouldn’t have learned to fight, both for himself and for those he loves. If it were not for Mario, Luigi would not be who he is today.

If it weren't for Mario, Luigi wouldn't be here right now.

So he's not going to give up. He’ll continue to defend his brother the same way Mario has always defended him. He won't let those damn monsters get close to his sibling again. He won't let them get a chance to hurt him again.

He won't let them get away with it.

However, as he unleashes all his power and his unstoppable energy travels through his body and gushes from his hands, Luigi empties himself. He empties himself of the fear of losing Mario forever. He empties himself of all his anger, of all his resentment against the beings who have dared to harm his twin. He empties himself of all his thirst for revenge.

And he empties himself, also, of his electric magic.

Which carries with it a great part of his vitality.

Luigi blinks several times as the sparks around his vision begin to dim and the blinding white gradually fades. Before he can see anything, however, he notices his knees hit the icy ground, his legs unable to support him, and he begins to become aware of the noisy panting he’s emitting. He closes his eyes again and squeezes his eyelids tightly shut as he brings a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart and regulate his rapid breathing. His entire body trembles violently, and he continues to see sparks, only, this time, there’s no trace of those green and blue flashes in them. All he sees is blackness and darkness.

A darkness so enveloping that it threatens to drag him into the deepest and most absolute unconsciousness.

Despite his exhaustion, Luigi can’t afford to faint now. This is no time to rest. He has to check what has happened while he was in that kind of electric trance, what has become of his enemies. He has to check in on Mario.

His brother needs him.

But the darkness is so tempting... What if he only lets himself be dragged along for a moment? Just enough to rest and regain his strength. Besides, his eyes are already closed. What's the difference if—?

“Lu?”

Luigi's eyelids flutter open as he lifts his head with a jerk. He only takes a moment to gaze at the frozen wall in front of him, empty, which makes him imagine that the monsters must have fled, frightened by the fierceness of his power.

But that’s not important now.

His head turns at lightning speed as he compels his exhausted limbs to move. In the midst of his wheezing, a wide grin blooms on his face as his eyes meet another pair, of the same limpid blue, gazing up at him in awe.

“Mario!” he exclaims.

Not wanting to waste any time, he propels himself onto the icy ground to stand up, only to drop to his knees again two seconds later, this time next to Mario. His brother watches him with half-opened eyes and a tired smile glistening on his lips as well. Luigi places a hand in his sibling’s hair, careful not to touch his wound so as not to hurt him more, and his heart fills with joy as he notices how his twin reaches for his hand.

When their fingers intertwine, they join with a force more sweeping than that of a hurricane and more intense than that of the most devastating thunderstorm.

“How are you feeling?”

“Was it you?”

The brothers share a few knowing laughs when they realize that they’ve spoken at the same time. They look at each other fondly, amused, and Luigi, feeling his heart calm at last, gladly gives the floor to his twin.

“I'm a little dizzy,” Mario confesses, his voice a faint murmur. “It hurts...”

He attempts to bring his free hand to his forehead, but Luigi gently restrains him.

“Don't touch it,” he asks, concerned. “You’re wounded, but I'm sure this will help.”

He begins to rummage in his pockets without letting go of his brother's fingers. He doesn't notice that his twin can’t take his eyes off him.

“Was it you, Luigi?” he asks again.

“What do you mean?” Luigi asks, pulling the fabric of his right pocket to try to get a glimpse of its contents.

“The electric shock,” says Mario. “I woke up and saw... Lightning bolts. Electricity. Blue... Green. And... I heard thunder.”

Luigi notices that his brother struggles to speak. Stressed, he begins to rummage in the chest pocket of his overalls, ignoring the fact that he feels exhausted too. Where the heck did he put them?

“Luigi.”

His twin's voice, tinged with a certain urgency, as well as the squeeze he gives his hand, cause Luigi to finally look up. He’s speechless when he notices the fixed, penetrating glance, bursting with curiosity, that Mario is giving him. He can’t help but be slightly startled and even blush, and immediately resumes his search.

“I-I don't know what happened,” he mumbles nervously, and he’s not lying.

“Lu, did you...?” Mario takes a few seconds to ask his question. “Did you just unleash a thunderstorm?”

As his fingers finally grab the 1-UP Super he was looking for, Luigi closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath.

The truth is that he has no idea what just happened. He only knows that several emotions swirled inside him the moment he saw Mario's blood staining his glove red, and that he experienced them in a more overwhelming and powerful way than ever before. He’s never felt that fire in his chest, that tingling in his arms, that sensation of being unstoppable that has taken over his soul and has demanded to gush from his hands with more force than ever.

Luigi had no clue he was capable of such a thing.

“Lu?”

Mario's voice urges him to open his eyes again. His heart shrinks in his chest as soon as he notices the lingering worry in his brother's eyes, not yet completely lucid, but enough to be worried by his silence. Luigi tries to smile and shrugs as he holds out the mushroom.

“It's nothing,” he assures his twin. “I'm fine, but you're not. Eat this.”

“Luigi.” Mario lifts his other hand to push away the shroom. “Tell me what happened. Please. What did I see?”

Luigi will never cease to be amazed that his brother, even with a bleeding wound on his forehead, can still display his innate strength. He knows Mario too well to know that he will never give up, that he’d still want to talk to him about what happened even if he were on the verge of unconsciousness. So, defeated, Luigi offers him a deal.

“Eat this,” he repeats, “and we’ll talk about it.”

Fortunately, his suggestion seems to appease Mario. After watching him for a few seconds, his brother eventually lowers his hand and allows Luigi to give him the 1-UP Super. Luigi knows how much his sibling dislikes the taste of mushrooms, but by now Mario has learned to tolerate it: he closes his eyes and swallows them almost all at once, and always lets out a little whimper of protest that warms Luigi's heart. Mario may be his older brother, he may be the bravest and most capable person he knows, he may have always protected him since they were little, but in some ways he still reminds him of a child.

And yet Luigi admires his sibling for being able to eat something he doesn't like. He struggles every time.

Within seconds, Mario's wound begins to heal. Luigi watches, dumbfounded, as the blood recedes and the skin practically regenerates, eliciting a small grunt from Mario that causes Luigi to squeeze his hand and stroke his hair in an attempt to comfort him. His brother purses his lips as he squeezes back, and Luigi smiles as he witnesses Mario trying to contain the pain and not show himself vulnerable despite the fact that, here and now, it's just the two of them.

To Mario's relief, the shroom soon completes its magic. With his forehead completely healed, Mario opens his eyes, once again glowing with his distinctive energy and vitality, and rests them on his twin. Luigi, however, is so relieved to finally see his older brother safe and sound that, as soon as he begins to sit up, Luigi throws his arms around Mario’s neck.

He doesn't even realize that he’s started to cry until he tries to speak and the lump in his throat prevents him from doing so.

Mario's laughter is like a balm that warms his heart. His brother laughs fondly and puts an arm around Luigi while he raises his other hand to pat him affectionately on his head. Still hugging him, Luigi smiles, and a strangled chuckle escapes his system as he swallows to try to quiet his crying.

“It's good to see you too, little brother,” Mario whispers.

He presses his cheek against Luigi's and Luigi closes his eyes, his heart fluttering in his chest. There's no telling where his smile ends and Mario's begins. He could stay like this forever, clinging to his sibling and feeling his twin's arms around him, providing him with a warmth more intense and comforting than that of the most blazing fire as they protect each other from any evil coming from the outside world.

Luigi needs nothing else to live.

After a few seconds, Luigi notices that his brother tries to pull apart from him to look him in the eye, but the younger plumber finds himself unable to stand up straight. His whole body feels strangely limp, as if it didn’t belong to him, and it’s impossible for him to do something as simple as opening his eyes.

Luigi then realizes that the fatigue caused by the force with which his electric magic has emerged from his body is causing the upper part of his body to slip to Joke’s End’s cold, icy floor, as both him and Mario are still on his knees, and he finds himself unable to break his fall. Mario's voice, full of alarm at his little brother’s condition, reaches Luigi’s ears muffled, and he just can’t make out his twin’s words. He does feel how Mario holds him tightly with one arm, trying to ground him, and Luigi finds himself clinging to him with what little strength he has left in his body. He rests his head on his twin's shoulder while he closes his eyelids, just for an instant, to rest for five minutes, nothing more.

For this reason he’s unable to resist when he notices that Mario brings something to his lips. Without hesitating, Luigi opens his mouth and allows his brother to give him what the green clad plumber immediately distinguishes as a 1-UP Super. He’s barely swallowed it when he begins to feel its effects: a small spark of energy springs up in his heart and starts to spread through his body in slow but intense waves, finally giving him back the vitality that the magnitude of his power had taken from him. Soon he’s aware of how Mario's arms support him while, in Italian, his brother whispers soft words of encouragement, waiting for the shroom to take effect with the little patience that Luigi knows his sibling has, but which he always displays when it comes to him.

Luigi lets out a small moan as he regains control of his body, holding on to Mario's shoulders to slowly sit up. He immediately hears his twin greet him as if he had just woken up, which, in fact, is not far from the truth.

“Hey,” Mario says softly, his tone full of gentleness. “Can you hear me, Lu? How are you feeling?”

Luigi notices Mario's fingers cupping his cheek and can practically feel the concern that tinges his voice. Still clinging to his twin's shoulders, Luigi hastens to smile, looking at him, and nods, wishing he could wipe all traces of worry from Mario's blue eyes in one fell swoop.

“I feel wonderful,” he declares.

His tone must be more convincing than he thought, because, in front of him, Mario's face begins to calm down: his frown relaxes, his eyes recover their usual spark, and a smile blooms on his lips that mirrors Luigi's, as if his brother were an earthly representation of the sun and he, the moon that feeds on his glow.

“Thank goodness,” Mario replies, giving him a gentle pat on the back.

Both his voice and his face are brimming with relief. Luigi instinctively closes his eyes the instant he notices how his twin begins to tilt his head towards him. Warmness bursts in his chest as his forehead meets his brother's, and the smile that spreads across his face at the contact is wide, serene and placid. Despite the ice that surrounds them, despite the coldness that reigns in the place where they are, far from any trace of civilization, Luigi could almost swear that never before, in all his life, has he felt more wrapped up in the warmth provided by the mere presence of his older brother.

When, seconds later, the twins separate, they give each other wide and calm smiles, both filled with joy at being together again. Mario's expression, though, gradually turns into one full of curiosity.

“So...” he says before patting Luigi's back again. “It was a thunderstorm, right?”

Luigi can't help but cringe a little. How is he going to tell Mario about something he doesn't even know how it happened? In fact... should he? What if his brother starts to see him in a different light? What if...?

What if Mario stops loving him?

“W-well...”

He doesn't realize that he's started to fiddle with his hands, as he usually does whenever he's nervous, until he feels Mario's palm, warm and pleasant, resting on his fingers before gently squeezing them. Raising his head, Luigi meets the equally sweet and affectionate gaze of his brother, radiant with all the love he feels for him.

The sight is more than enough to soothe Luigi’s racing thoughts.

“Lulu,” Mario says, still smiling, “you don’t have to be ashamed. What you did was amazing!” he exclaims, chuckling smoothly as his eyes sparkle with excitement. “You unleashed a thunderstorm all by yourself, little brother. Do you realize how incredibly powerful you are?”

Luigi stares at him in silence for a few seconds, trying to process the reality of his twin's words.

Or, he corrects himself, trying to process the fact that Mario doesn't seem at all horrified by what his younger sibling just did.

“In fact,” Mario continues before Luigi manages to come up with a response, “you're so powerful, Luigi, that not only did you get me to wake up even though I had just been hit in my head, but you made the monsters run away. Or at least,” he adds as he looks to and fro, “I don't see them anywhere.”

Looking at Luigi again, Mario winks at him as he holds both of his brother's hands in his, Luigi's fingers resting on his left palm while his right continues to tap him lightly. Luigi blinks slowly and closes his mouth at last, for he wasn't even aware of having it wide open. A shy smile begins to bloom on his lips.

“They fled like cowards in the face of the bravery and courage of my mighty little brother,” Mario then says, imprinting his voice with a proud tone that causes Luigi's smile to widen and his cheeks to start burning. “Do you hear me, monsters?” Mario suddenly shouts, turning again to one side and the other, and grabs Luigi's wrist with his right hand to raise his younger sibling’s arm in the air. “Don't even think of coming closer if you don't want to suffer the wrath of the Green Thunder!”

Luigi can't contain the laughter that escapes from the depths of his soul at the nickname his brother has just bestowed upon him, as well as his enthusiasm when boasting about him and the vigor with which he shakes Luigi’s arm. Luigi doubts that any monster is going to be scared by that, but, maybe, just maybe, what he just did is not... bad. Maybe his power has gotten out of his control, but, after all, he hasn't caused any harm.

And, besides, he’s achieved his purpose: to keep those monsters away from his big brother and prevent them from ever having a chance to harm him again.

When his laughter starts to fade, he notices that Mario was laughing too. Now he looks at Luigi with eyes sparkling with affection, and the younger plumber returns a radiant smile that he hopes will convey the same feeling to his brother. Seizing the fact that he’s still holding him by one hand, Mario begins to pull him up and they both stand up at the same time. Mario, however, doesn’t let go.

“Thank you for protecting me, Lu,” he says heartily, giving his fingers a little squeeze.

Luigi can't help blushing and massages the back of his neck with his other hand.

“You always protect me,” he replies, shrugging, “and besides, I don't even know what I did...”

“What do you mean?” Mario sounds both intrigued and confused.

“W-well...” Luigi takes a few seconds to try to find the right words. “I don't know what happened, Mario,” he declares, looking him in the eyes. “I just know that I saw you lying there, and you were bleeding, and...” He sighs, looking away again. “My Thunderhand took control. I didn't even know it was capable of creating a thunderstorm,” he admits, dejected.

Luigi drops his shoulders and massages his arm with his free hand. Mario still holds his other hand, but Luigi senses that it's only a matter of time before his brother lets go and walks away. Surely he doesn't admire him so much anymore. Surely he doesn't see him in the same way anymore. Surely...

“Then,” Mario's voice interrupts the torrent of his thoughts, and a new squeeze on his fingers causes Luigi to turn to him once more. Mario's warm smile disarms him completely. “Maybe we can find a way together that you can do this while maintaining control.”

At first, Luigi isn't sure he fully understands what his twin is referring to. It takes a while for his brain to register what his twin means: that Luigi should learn how to be in control in case he needs, or wants to, create another thunderstorm in the future.

It hadn't occurred to him that there might be a way.

“You’ll see how they will call you Green Thunder then,” Mario adds, amused, and gives him a gentle punch on the shoulder.

Luigi chuckles at his joke, and an idea suddenly comes to his mind.

“Do you think you could do something like that with your Firebrand too?” he asks, curious.

This time it's Mario who stares at him dumbfounded.

“Well... I hadn’t thought about it,” he admits, putting his hand to his chin and tapping his finger pensively.

“Then that’s one more thing we have to research,” Luigi suggests, suddenly filled with a determination that only Mario could have infected him with. “What do you think, big bro?”

“Fair enough, little bro” nods his sibling, giving him another wink.

With no need for words, the two break contact in unison, only to raise their arms and high five. Luigi laughs, feeling not only relieved that Mario still loves him the same way, but pleased that they’re going to further investigate both his electrical power and his twin's igneous magic. He hopes to come up with an appropriate nickname for Mario and his Firebrand in the process.

“I guess we'll have to get out of here first,” Mario adds jokingly. “Let’s-a go!”

“Okie-dokie!”

And, together again, they set off.

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