#sometimes it's fun to watch an arsehole be an arsehole
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at first i didn't understand how one could be so infatuated with one of the palace rulers. why would we like these guys when they suck so bad. and then i wrote about suguru kamoshida ~493059045834059345 times and thought "hm. i kinda get it actually" so can we hang out in the same boat
"Infatuated" is putting it mildly sjdbdid
Shido's the reason I learnt what brainrot is like
Of course we can hang out in the same boat. In fact, I feel like we already are
#sometimes it's fun to watch an arsehole be an arsehole#it's also fun to watch him be reduced to a blithering wreck lol#sometimes it's fun to overanalyse the arsehole#he's a complete monster! but he's just some guy!!#but anyway I'm preaching to the choir here lol
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The Chosen Many
Destiny is a woman.
There’s nothing much important about that particular aspect of Her. It wouldn’t make much difference to the world if the sparks that make up the goddess of human fate had decided that Her avatar should be male or genderless. After all, personality is more important than genitalia when you can shape them yourself and She would have been just as a much as an arsehole if She’d been a He.
The important part is that She made Herself a humanoid body and, with humanoid bodies, come humanoid thoughts.
Thoughts like, ‘I��m bored’ and ‘You know what might be fun?’
Gods aren’t worshipped here. They turn up too often and overstay their welcome: rather like that one friend at a party who didn’t bring any alcohol and is suddenly very insistent on trying out a watery interpretation of socialism. At best, the more conscientious ones get thank-you gifts. At worst, it’s a toxic relationship for whomever has caught their attention.
Priests tend to get friendly with the bottom of a glass by their third year in service.
Destiny doesn’t have priests. Contrary to popular belief, She doesn’t have much interest in everyday people either. If you were to be honest – preferably in the temple of another god She’d recently annoyed – Destiny’s plans are faint pencil sketches for most. Often, She gets bored and, apart from one or two big events, most people have blameless, simple lives.
But sometimes, She likes to leave a massive metaphorical rake across the lifespans of a significant number of people.
This is one of these times.
And here we meet Sandford Candles – Sand – riding towards the village of Westbank, blissfully unaware that it is going to be obliterated by the hand of fate before he has time to finish his residency.
He was a skinny, suntanned youth, old enough to grow a beard but so far completely unable to. His hair was the colour of wet straw and cut in the style of Not Able to Afford a Proper Barber. Stray tufts stuck up at irregular intervals and occasionally he attempted to flatten them with his hand, but since he had three out of five fingers, it was less successful than he obviously intended. He was clad in the junior uniform of the Royal College of Medicine – maroon breeches, cream tunic, sky-blue jerkin – which had never looked good on anyone who wasn’t colourblind and therefore did not look good on him.
It certainly didn’t look good after a few hours of being rained on, but it was telling that that hadn’t upset him. Sand moved through the world with the good humour of someone who has never yet had anything bad happen to him.
Besides, the last rays of the setting sun were shining down on him through the autumnal leaves, the birds were singing, and he could see signs of civilisation that suggested his destination wasn’t too much further. He was taking his first steps – or rather, Arta, his horse was carrying him – into the next chapter of his life and he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to make the best of it.
His enthusiasm wasn’t even dampened as he rode into what certain, snootier classmates would term a ‘bend in the road’. A cluster of cottages huddled around a square of green, gradually fanning out into lonely farmhouses and huts ranged along the lakeside. Shepherds were herding their sheep and chickens back into their barns, fishers tying up their boats at the slick-wood docks, and small shopkeepers shutting up. Flies buzzed over the water, black swarms coiling unpleasantly.
Most of them stopped as Sand rode in, watching him in polite silence, their stares raking him from head-to-toe.
He coughed nervously. “Um, hello?”
One of the fishers – a tall, dark woman– sighed heavily and jerked her thumb back the way he came. “If you’re looking for Mother Nylund, back to the red oak, take a left, and don’t get eaten.”
Sand blinked, wetting his suddenly dry lips. “I – “
“She’s a scary one, our Nylund. Last apprentice ran away crying.” The fisher grinned unpleasantly. “You look like one for crying.”
“Uh…” Sand scanned the faces of the crowd. To his slight relief, several of them were shaking their heads at the speaker, a few turning back to work. One of them – a stout, ragged old man in a multicoloured shirt – caught his eye and gave him a wink and a sly thumbs-up. The effect was slightly spoiled by him immediately taking a long drag from a bottle in his hand and spilling it on his collar.
“Are you deaf?”
Dragging his attention away from the ensuing scuffle as a shopkeeper stepped in to disarm the man of his alcohol, Sand said, “No. Thank you for the directions.”
As he urged Arta to turn, he heard the woman called, “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the flies!”
The laughter, hopefully, wasn’t all aimed at him.
A few minutes and a stomach-churning second of believing he was lost later, Sand urged Arta towards a squat stone cottage overrun with ivy. A half-circle of a fence enclosed it in a front plot of tamped-down dirt with a chicken run and pen lurking by the edge, but by the smell wafting in the breeze, there had to be a massive herb garden around the back.
Dust boiled up over his feet as he slid lightly off her back and he steeled himself as he strode towards the front door. He raised his fist to knock –
And nearly fell into the hallway as someone yanked it open with considerable force. That same someone grabbed him by the collar and snapped, “Have you ever had a baby?”
“I – no – I’ve been sent from the College –“
“I know you’re from the College, man! Have you delivered a baby?”
Sand gaped. “Not yet, I’m –“
“Well, there’s a first time for everything and lucky you, it’s breech. Take this and get on your horse!”
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Summer 2024 Anime Review
I am so late with this, because I was on holiday, but I still wanted to do it ^_^
Shoshimin How to become ordinary: 10/10
It should be boring, but it’s so good and so interesting! They’re just making hot cocoa and I’m on the edge of my seat. And it’s so well made, I loved the use of the backgrounds. Definitely my highlight this season.
Failure Frame: 9/10
I’ve been looking forward to this every week. Yes, it’s a generic isekai power fantasy, and you can guess the “plot twist” from the start, but I was entertained every week, and that’s the most important thing for me. I liked all the characters in Touka’s group and I like that it didn’t turn into a harem anime. I know people complained about the cgi use, but I didn’t really mind (except for the horse’s legs, wtf was that XD)
Narenare cheer for you: 8/10
I love the girls (especially Anna-cha <3), I love the story, and I love how it looked, especially the two-coloured hair. It’s a beautiful story about friendship and overcoming problems and asking for help when you need it.
Dahlia in Bloom: 7/10
It’s sweet, it’s cosy, it’s lovely. There isn’t really that much to be said, it was just relaxing and nice too watch. Really didn’t need the isekai element though, but you could easily forget about it, they didn’t even bring it up for most of the episodes.
Dungeon People: 7/10
It’s funny and cute, I love the look into how a dungeon might work. I felt the last episodes were lacking though. They kind of just forgot that Clay was looking for her dad? We didn’t even get a hint about him. Still a very fun watch though, surprisingly brutal at times, especially contrasted with the cute art style.
Why does nobody remember me in this world: 6/10
It had good parts and bad parts. I really like the premise, but it seemed like they forgot about it in some episodes, then executed it well in others. Also, why was Rinne super powerful one moment and then totally helpless the next? Whatever suited the plot of course, but inconsistent characters are just the worst. I really liked the opening song though.
Twilight out of Focus: Dropped after ep 7
I was existed about a new BL, but I had already read the manga and was wondering how they would put that little story into 12 episodes. Turns out they focus on a new couple every 3 episodes, and I just didn’t really care about that. Might still finish this though, it’s well made, especially considering the characters are film-makers themselves.
Days with my stepsister: Dropped after ep 7
I don’t know what I expected, but I liked when they said that just because they are stepsiblings now, they don’t need to be friends and can just ignore each other. And then they spectacularly failed at that. I really didn’t like when Ayase started working at Asamura’s workplace too, that just seemed weird and stalkerish to me, and that’s when I dropped it.
Alya sometimes hides her feelings in Russian: Dropped after ep 5
I mainly started this to hear the Russian (miles better than their English XD), but I couldn’t stand Alya. “Oh, I’m actually really nice and sweet and shy, but I can’t show it, so I’m mean and awful to everyone” - well, newsflash, if you act like an arsehole, you are one. When she slapped Masachika, it was over for me. I really liked Yuki though, she was so funny, and I know they wouldn’t go there, but in my mind, she ends up with Masachika, haha.
My deer friend Nokotan: Dropped during ep 1
I couldn’t even get through the first episode. It was just weird, and not in a good way. You know when you know where the jokes are supposed to be, but you just don’t find them funny? That’s what I had here.
#summer 2024 anime#anime review#shoshimin#failure frame#dahlia in bloom#narenare cheer for you#dungeon people#why does nobody remember me in this world#twilight out of focus#days with my stepsister#alya sometimes hides her feelings in russian#my deer friend nokotan#isa talks
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1589 au bc i fully believe that Eleanor and hob are the most prolific swingers in court. Hob manages to stop dream frlm leaving and hes sooo turned on by hobs show of force and its so clear.. hes still pissed about hob getting married tho!! But hob laughs and talks about how much Eleanor is going to LOVE ruining hobs little brat. Dream is basically all talk and melts super fast into a mewling mess with their attention on him but Eleanor decides dream needs a bit of (fun)ishment for being such a rude little brat... he gets the wax dripped on him and hobs crest stamped in and has to kiss the ring... hes crying and begging to be fucked full but theyre being so MEAN!!! and hobs crest def has sooo many references to dream in it!!!
-🔪
I am such a big fan of domme Eleanor!!! Thank you for giving me an opportunity to rave about her!!!
1589 Hob is all about the hedonism and indulgence. Most of the time, he's Eleanor's pet, her good boy. He serves her with his cock when she wants it, and he takes her strap the rest of the time.
But sometimes, he's allowed to join in with her... whenever they team up on the "unicorn" they've picked out to join them in bed. Eleanor is still the boss but Hob is allowed to have fun, especially when they've got a brat to handle. Hob is a very good boy and Eleanor adores him but she does relish the opportunity to tame a brat, and he loves it too.
It's Hob’s task to get Dream all tied up and he does such a wonderful job! Eleanor inspects the knots and finds them all perfect, so Hob gets fingered as a reward while Dream has to watch. All the time, Eleanor is humiliating Dream by calling him a whiney brat, telling him that he's an easy little slut and he should stop pretending to be anything else.
Then it's time for the wax, which Eleanor drips from special candles that don't get quite as hot as the usual ones. She won't risk burning Dream’s beautiful white skin. With the wax poured, Hob gets to use his ring to stamp his claim on Dream over and over: on his chest and belly, on his inner thighs, and the smooth curves of his arse. Eleanor tells Dream how pretty he looks - isn't it nice to be claimed? Doesn't he want to be a good boy now?
In the end, Hob fucks Dream’s pretty pink arsehole while Eleanor rides his whining, desperate red mouth. Dream is a mess - he's got cum on his face and in his hole, and his body is stiff with the hardened wax.
But for the first time in many, many years... he feels good. Calm. And in an odd but pleasant way... loved.
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"You can leave now if you want"
Regulus got out of the trance of watching Cissy sleep peacefully. He had decided to stay with his cousins after the fight from last night.
Narcissa had cried her heart out because of Lucius Malfoy. Everyone had known he had been a twat, everyone had warned Cissy. But she had been blindly in love.
Regulus had been wondering lately how people become so stupid and blind for love. If it hurt that much, then why did people bother? Why did love have to be a tragedy? Andromeda had left the family because of Tonks. Sirius had hit their father because of Lupin. Was it worth all the madness? To betray your own family? To betray yourself?
Regulus had never experienced something like that.
Bellatrix was sending him a hateful glare from her spot beside her sister on the bed. Reg had taken the couch. She looked so small and pale without makeup.
It had been ages since they had slept in the same room. Regulus remembered how the five of them used to do sleepovers. Like the time Sirius decided to put glue on Cissy's hair in the middle of the night and they woke to her loud screams. Or the time Andy brought a bunny and it pooped on Sirius's sleeping bag and he smelled. Bella's creepy terrorific stories about the Boogie Man. Those made Regulus so scared he peed himself and they all made fun of him in the morning.
It had been fun anyway. They had been a normal family back then.
Now Bellatrix hated Regulus's guts, he was sure. She had become a bitter woman. And even more scary than before.
"I want to make sure she's okay" Regulus gestured to Cissy.
"She'll be fine" Bella whispered "I'll make sure of it...." she added "And I'll make sure Malfoy pays for whatever he did to her"
Lucius was going to propose last night. He had shown Regulus the ring. Although the bomb of his infidelity had exploted before that. Seven years of relationship must've meant something for him but no.
"All they want from us is our money and prestige" Bella said mostly to herself as she caressed Cissy's blond hair "That's why we have to be careful"
Regulus sat up and rubbed his eyes.
"Doesn't Rabastan want your money as well?" Regulus asked carefully, remembering how he had found them last night "What are you doing with him, Bella? He's a nasty pig"
Bellatrix tried not to react to those words.
"That's different!" she snapped "It is strategic" she swallowed "It was about time our families merged and made business together" she explained "It was supoosed to happen when Rodolphus and And...."
Regulus didn't say anything. He hadn't said anything about how Sirius had dragged him to see Andromeda when they ran off Alphard's funeral. Then before Christmas as well. Reg was scared to say anything. What the family might do, might say. It had been nice seeing Andy again. He didn't want to be taken that away.
But he could see how the mere thought of Andromeda was hurting Bellatrix.
"Now it is Rab's responsability and mine as well" Bella continued "It is the only way Grandfather would consider me... If I marry him..."
Regulus felt a knot on his throat. He hadn't liked the way Rabastan was treating his cousin last night. Trying to take advantage of her.
"I'll do anything to own The Family's Company myself"
"Even marrying that arsehole, Bella?" Regulus snapped, getting up from the couch and walking to the bed and looking at Cissy "If Malfoy is bad, then Rabastan is worse. I don't understand how can you let it happen"
"It's for a greater good!" Bellatrix spat "Sometimes is about doing the right thing for your family and yourself" she rolled her eyes "At least I am doing something! Where is the precious Heir, ha? Where was he last night when we needed him? When Grandfather lost his shit and yelled at all of us?"
Regulus understood what Bella was saying. It happened when Andromeda left Rodolphus on the altar. She wasn't there to see the consequences, how Grandfather hit his Uncle Cygnus in front of everyone, how he humiliated Bella, Cissy and his Auntie Druella.
I was happening the same with Sirius. Even if the rest of the family officially didn't know how Sirius had left for real this time. Even if Grandfather didn't know all the nasty business Orion had behind his back, that Walburga was aware of course. Grandfather didn't know what Sirius had said that night. How he said he was gay and now was dating a boy.
Only the absence of Sirius in the party had made Pollux scream at Regulus's parents like a maniac, toss things, hit tables. He was ten times worse than Orion, Walburga and Uncle Cygnus combined.
All of them were scared of him.
"I told you he...he's a-at Hogwarts with his fri-iends" Regulus wished he hadn't sounded that nervous.
Bellatrix was right. At least she and Regulus had to witness those horrible moments. And the one's causing them are not around.
Bella scoffed "Please..." she said with disdain "He's never around. He doesn't care about being the Heir or anything related to the family" then her eyes travelled to her sleeping sister and stroked her hair once more "They are never around when we need them the most"
Bellatrix kissed Cissy's head to hide her tears. Regulus didn't need to ask who she was referring to.
It used to be five of them. They used to be family before, Maybe stronger to face anything. Their parents and Grandfather. Not anymore. It was just three of them. Maybe Sirius and Andromeda didn't care.
"You're right" he whispered, his cousin looked at him curiosly "They are never around anymore"
Bella twisted her mouth "So I guess it would be the two of us competeting for the crown, ha?" she smiled "Watch it, Reggie. I fight hard"
Regulus found himself smiling. It sounded ridiculous that he would be considered. Grandfather Pollux had always hated him and considered him weak. Although with Sirius out of the picture, it would be hell. Pollux would need an Heir somehow. He was the only male grandchild now.
"Okay, Bella" Reg said giving Cissy's arm a soft pat.
#Little bit of my muggle version of The Black Family#Might not be death eaters but they are still angsty and rich#Pollux Black is the head of the family and very abusive#maraudersera#marauders#the black family#muggle au#regulus black#bellatrix black#narcissa black#sirius black#andromeda black#the black cousins#the black brothers#the black sisters
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In vino veritas [Dazai x gn reader]
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Chapter 10 / ?
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TW: The reader mentions using alcohol to cope and A LOT of swearing
!There’s a lot of German being spoken in this one. Don’t worry I put the translation in brackets behind the actual words being said!
e.g.: “Guten Tag!” [Good day!]
During my time spent alone I resorted to coming to bars. Maybe in hope to stumble upon him but he was nowhere to be seen. I had tried to contact him by texting him if he wanted to meet up but I was left on read. Dazai, this fucker, had successfully ghosted me. I was increasingly becoming more annoyed and yet still clung to this idea that “maybe he was just busy”. As I said, I frequently visited different bars in Yokohama, and no I totally didn’t try to drink away the pain of being left without a warning. I was telling myself I just had to “have fun again” and what better way doing that than with several vodka shots or a cuba libre.
So that’s why I was sitting here, four weeks after not having heard from this dunce, in another bar I had already forgotten the name of. It was already late but I was determined to wait just a little longer. I knew he worked mostly at dusk. Sometimes at night. So I had hoped he may go for an after work drink. Gosh I was so stupid. I was waiting like a foolish little dog for his owner after it had been abandoned at the side of the street. Maybe that’s what I was. A silly little stray dog.
I then heard the door open.
A guy with a fancy hat entered the bar. He was about 5 feet tall. Okay, maybe 5’3. He had ginger hair and quite a strong build for such a short dude. His clothes looked expensive and his gloves seemed to be made of the finest leather. So it was even funnier to see a guy like this, stumbling around in a bar at 2 am, barely being able to stand up straight. He swung himself from one chair to the next in order to not fall. I tried not to laugh, sensing I might get in trouble for it later on.
A thing you should know about me is that I seem to magically attract drunk people. Somehow one will always take a seat right next to me at some point and then starts rambling to me about their day, their wife, their financial problems or whatever. I don’t even think I look that approachable but as someone who sits alone most of the time I get unwanted company every so often.
And that seemed to be the case once again because the guy I’ve now settled on looking like a human puss in boots took a seat right next to me. And just like expected he started to ramble, his speech quite slurred and in a loud tone. Even the bartender looked a bit frightened.
“My ex-partner is such a fucking arsehole!”
I’m not religious in the slightest but right then I was praying to God to please spare me this time.
“Like- You see this dude- That man has the audacity to just show up, at my work that is, and act like nothing ever happened!”
Fucking hell, this dude is completely nuts.
I got an idea to maybe get myself out of this situation. I looked at him in a confused manner and then spoke in the most German accent I could muster, in a mix of English and German: “Oh sorry I not speak any Japanese. Ich kann nur Deutsch. Ich hab keine Ahnung was Sie von mir wollen” [I can only speak German. I have no idea what you want from me.]
I am a fucking genius.
Mentally I gave myself a high five. This was the most genius idea I’ve ever had for sure and I could enjoy my drink in peace, then go home and watch another one of those reality tv shows that escalate way too quickly while falling asleep on the couch. This was the good life for sure. At least I thought so when I heard his agitating, grating voice again.
"Oh, warum hast du das nicht gleich gesagt? Also wo war ich… Ach ja! Mein Kollege, okay Ex-Kollege-“ [Oh why didn’t you tell me from the beginning? So where was I… Oh yeah! My colleague, okay ex colleague-]
You have to be fucking kidding me. If there was a God out there this must’ve been his punishment for me never really going to church. I just wanted to disappear into the bar before me and never return again. I would have expected anything from this night really but an angry ginger ranting to me about his ex partner was not on my list of probable events. His usage of the informal “you” also made my blood boil ever so slightly. Like dude, you do not know me and I’m of age at least be more formal. We’re not friends alright?
Yet I still tried to listen and nod along. I didn’t want any more trouble in my life and I doubted I could win a lawsuit against this guy.
“Und dann denkt dieser… Dieser ARSCHLOCH, er könnte einfach so bei uns einbrechen, weil ‘er braucht was’, und er reduziert mich dann immer auf meine Größe! Ich hab… Wie heißt das? Durchschnitt! Durschnitt-Größe!” [And then this… this asshole, thinks he could just break into our place because ‘he needs something’ and he always reduces me to my height! I have… what is it called? Average! Average height!]
I excused him his few grammatical errors. To be quite fair I was pretty impressed. He clearly had a lot to drink and let me tell you: I can’t speak German that well if I had as much as this guy had. Maybe this could be an interesting conversation after all.
“Okay ich check’s aber immer noch nich’ ganz: Dein Ex-Kollege? Ex-Partner? Der kommt trotzdem noch?” [Okay, but I still don't quite get it: Your ex-colleague? Ex partner? Is he still coming?]
“Ja!” [Yes!]
“Und warum stört er dich jetzt so sehr?” [And why does he bother you that much?]
“Weil er mich einfach verlassen hat, verdammt! This.. this son of a bitch… Er hat mich einfach so im Stich gelassen! Ich habe ihm vertraut! Und dann geht er!” [Because he just left me, dammit! This.. this son of a bitch… he just let me down like that! I trusted him! And then he leaves!]
He takes a deep breath then hits the bar counter, making me jump. He then looks at me.
“Ich bin mir sicher, für solche Leute gibt es einen ganz bestimmten Platz in der Hölle. Ich weiß, ich werde da auch landen, aber er hat ein VIP-Ticket.”[I'm sure there's a special place in hell for people like that. I know I'll end up there too, but he has a VIP ticket.]
Oh shit that got real deep real fast.
“Das hört sich persönlich an… Ganz sicher, dass ihr nur Kollegen wart? Nich’ mehr? Oder interpretier ich da was falsch?” [That sounds personal... Are you sure you were just colleagues? Nothing more? Or am I interpreting something wrong?]
I can’t tell if the red on his cheeks is from the alcohol in his system or if he feels called out.
“Weißt du was? Lass uns Wein trinken!” [You know what? Let’s drink wine!]
My eyes widened. I may be able to pay for cheap liquor but I’m definitely not going to order myself expensive wine just for fun. Maybe I should make that clear. He already seemed to order the most expensive bottle of the house.
“Oh sorry aber dafür hab ich kein-“ [Oh sorry but I don’t have any-]
“Ich zahle, du hörst zu. Deal?” [I pay, you listen. Deal?]
I just nodded.
“Warte… Wie heißt du nochmal?” [Wait… What’s your name again?]
I stopped and stared for a second. Shit. I need a name. That’s when I spotted a bottle of Jack Daniel’s behind the barkeeper. Maybe I could use that.
"Daniel. Ich heiß’ Daniel” [Daniel. My name is Daniel.]
He nodded then telling me his and giving me a handshake.
“Chuuya. Chuuya Nakahara. Schön Sie kennenzulernen.” [Chuuya. Chuuya Nakahara. Nice to meet you (formal)]
Oh wow so he was capable of using the formal form the whole time. But I had another problem: I was slowly realizing what kind of guy I must be dealing with here. I had heard of him before. The amount of money this dude had, the coat, the gloves and the fact that the bartender was scared shitless and yet didn’t kick him out. This man right before me was a mafioso. I began to sweat. How have I not noticed before? This was bad. So very bad.
The glass of wine was placed right in front of me just a minute later. Chuuya had already started talking my ear off. Somehow I felt sorry for him. He seemed so hurt, desperate even, in the way he talked. I felt the urge to maybe stroke his back and tell him to “let it all out” but ultimately decided against it, unsure if he even liked touch as a form of comfort. What was striking however was the similarities in our situations.
“Und dann geht er immer. Einfach so. Ohne etwas zu sagen.” [And then he leaves. Just like that. Without saying anything.]
He took a deep breath.
“Und dann bin ich allein.” [And then I’m alone.]
He had calmed down now. The anger had turned into sadness. Not exactly a better feeling but one I could deal with more easily.
“Ich versteh dich, um ehrlich zu sein. Ich wurde auch letztens erst geghostet. Ich weiß immer noch nicht, ob ich weiter warten soll. Gott , ich weiß nicht mal, ob ich ihn überhaupt als Arschloch abstempeln kann, obwohl ich ganz genau weiß dass ich ihn nicht verlassen hab, sondern er mich.” [I get you to be honest. I was recently ghosted too. I still don't know if I should wait any longer. God, I don't even know if I can even label him an asshole, although I know for a fact that I didn't leave him, he left me.]
He looked at me with a sense of pity, then looked at his glass, then furrowed his eyebrows. After that he clinked our wine glasses together and announced proudly:
“SCHEISS AUF MÄNNER! DIE KÖNNEN MICH ALLE MAL! DIE HABEN UNS NICHT VERDIENT!” [FUCK MEN! THEY CAN ALL GO FUCK THEMSELVES! THEY DON’T DESERVE US!]
I laughed loudly at that and he did too. I was beginning to kind of like this dude. I raised an eyebrow while smiling at him.
“Aber bist du nicht selbst einer?” [But aren’t you one yourself?]
His confident smile dropped for a split second.
“Hahaha! Wir ignorieren das mal.” [Hahaha! We’re going to ignore that.]
I had a lot of fun (and wine for that matter) with Chuuya that night. It felt good to have laughed again after being constantly worried for so long, not knowing what was going to happen next. He had taken my mind off of Dazai. Even if it was only for a night.
It all ended with him getting increasingly more quiet. He was beginning to nod off. He had definitely had too much to drink. How would he get home? He just meant he’d call someone to pick him up. I demanded he do it now but he seemed to struggle with his phone. He finally had enough after trying to press the buttons for about five minutes without achieving anything. I eventually took his phone.
“Wen soll ich anrufen?” [Who should I call?]
I managed to say as softly as possible, trying to show him I genuinely wanted to help.
He managed to croak a “Kouyou… Ozaki” before he finally passed out with his wine glass still in hand. I ended up asking the bartender to fish out her contact and watch Chuuya while I was outside making the phone call. The phone rung three times before someone picked up.
“Please don’t tell me you’re drunk again.”
Straight to the point. I see.
“Uhm… hi?” I ended up stuttering “Well, yes, he kind of is. Blacked out to be quite frank.”
“Who are you and where should I go to pick him up? I’m sorry if he was of any nuisance to you.”
The woman that picked up sounded rather formal and collected in contrast to Chuuya. Her voice was rather nice to listen to.
“Oh no no! He wasn’t a nuisance. Bar Mimi? It’s right next to Miyuki-dori Street, First floor. I don’t know how to describe it any better. We met here because he just started talking to me but no he wasn’t a nuisance. You can tell him I actually have enjoyed his company.”
“I’m sure I will find it.”
With that the call ended. I returned his phone to him, wrote a little note telling him I hoped he got home safely (in German of course), paid and then took my leave.
Thank you Chuuya for this completely absurd but very enlightening night.
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[So Ophelia is spending their time alone for now. However this will take a turn in the next few chapters as we will slowly figure out what even happened in the first place. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this (less Dazai-centric) chapter! As to what is going on in my life; I am through with most of my exams for now. The big ones are in April already tho and I’m lowkey freaking out about it. (I’ll just tell myself “in vino veritas” is my preparation for the English exam haha)]
#bsd#bungou stray dogs x reader#dazai osamu#dazai x reader#dazai x y/n#fanfic#bungo stray dogs x you#bungou stray dogs#my writing#fanfiction#dazai x you#bsd dazai#bungou stray dogs x you#dazai bungou stray dogs#x reader#bungou stray dogs dazai
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HTDC commentary - 9: sanctuary & 10: outside
[Looking back at HTDC after nearly ten years: comments on lore, character notes, influences, art, whatever. May contain spoilers for later chapters.]
chapter text: 9: sanctuary & 10: outside
So, evidently Iriel had an opportunity to go collect mushrooms for Ajira and be a good little Apprentice, but he's doing drugs with Tsiya, instead. What do we learn about Tsiya?
Tsiya was an asshole
Immediately, Iriel's already prejudicing the reader against her, with his opinion. Admittedly, Tsiya is kind of the worst. She's been an addict far longer than Iriel, and no longer has any illusions about the sort of person it makes you. She's lost everything and everyone she ever cared about, and she certainly has no energy or inclination to be nice to Iriel. Honestly, though, why should she?It's easy to side with Ire because we know what he's been through, and Tsiya is a blank slate with no visible redeeming qualities. But just... take a moment to observe the actual power dynamics, here.
From Tsiya's perspective, a strange elven man forced his way into her house. He could easily overpower her magically - or even physically! Iriel has more than a foot and a half on her in height, and she's even more weak and emaciated than he is. She can't leave, or she'll be arrested, but he can move freely, and could report her to the guards whenever he chose. She's in skooma withdrawal, and probably starving. Iriel doesn't realise it, because he can't fathom not being the victim in any given situation, but Tsiya is completely in his power, and for her part, she is fully aware of this. No wonder she can't stand to be polite, no wonder the most she can manage is occasional forays into transparently sycophantic wheedling.
a common-or-garden asshole, to borrow Reu’s favourite term.
HTDC is presented in an all-new, modern and colloquial translation from the Tamrielic! Which is to say, that when I include different types of slang, it's because I am attempting to represent different regional dialects and vernacular colloquialisms. Iriel saying "fuck" a lot is actually an Altmeri speech feature, a translation of an uncouth term from his Lillandril docks background. Honest.
OK, OK, so I just vary up the types of voices and swearing habits because it's fun, but I do try to keep it vaguely culturally consistent. So, when I wanted to call Tsiya an asshole, I had Iriel blame Reu, because he's an Imperial street rat, and he talks like that. I was having Ire be more British-influenced, language-wise, but "arsehole" just didn't feel scathing enough.
“Of course the annoying High Elf did not. If he had found it, he would never have returned.” Ire didn’t even try to contradict her. I’m an asshole, too, these days.
Iriel is not kind to Tsiya. Sure, he could have done worse things to her, but let's be real: he only didn't, because he didn't want to. He's only interested in her moon sugar, and he would have stolen that, if he thought it was worth it. For now, she's more use to him as a connection.
“Iriel’s share. Now he goes away.”
With Tsiya's grammar, I had her use third person for everything, because I felt it emphasised her total lack of connection or direct contact with anyone. She no longer has relationships, even grammatical ones.
She grinned, unpleasantly.
Tsiya is not a nice person. She "doesn't deserve" kindness. But if she doesn't, neither does Iriel.
Ire sat on the stone bridge, and watched the stars reflected in the moving water. Sometimes he felt that such beautiful reminders of his own cosmic insignificance were the only thing that calmed him
Ire's little existential rebellion against Altmeri culture, which doesn't much encourage thoughts of personal insignificance. You're a scion of the divine, act like it! That said, Altmer do really like the stars, the stars being doors to Aetherius, left by cosmic beings lucky enough to escape Mundus in time. So maybe Iriel's not being that unorthodox. Certainly, his pa would have taught him respect for the Stars.
“Heeeeeeey n'waaaah” A mocking, drunken sing-song voice rang out, and others joined it.
I'm trying to think of something clever or witty to say about these men who police public places in groups, scanning for victims, looking for those they can mark as acceptable targets for violence. But I just get too choked with homicidal rage. I don't understand them, and I don't want to.
He’d long ago given up trying to figure out what he was doing to make it visible.
And it's always the victim who ends up asking themselves what they did wrong, to make themselves a target. As if there was ever a way out of the trap, save total annihilation of self.
But... how is it that the bullies at school can always pick out the queer kids, even before those kids know themselves that they're queer? What's the blood in the water they sense - someone's buried sense that they don't fit, somehow? Or is it only the ones who fail at their gender roles who get the target on their backs, do some people manage to go under the bullies' radar?
Iriel feels he has no control over the ways he broadcasts his failures of masculinity to others. He is bitter about the fact that certain physical traits seem to provide others with free camouflage for similar failures. Specifically, he has a rant about how his ex Hiranel could spend all day in the forest picking flowers and petting small animals, being a sweet, quiet, utterly passive healer who wouldn't say boo to a goose, and yet never have his sexuality questioned or his masculinity doubted, because he was tall, broad, strong-jawed and generally looked the part.
Back in Summerset, Ire at least understood the rules of the game, the acceptable contours of Altmeri manhood that he was expected to emulate, centred on magery and nobility, rather than physical force. He used to be better at it! Until he got found out. In Cyrodiil, he thought he could have a new start, and maintain a proper academic, masculine scholarly image. But just when he thought he was succeeding, he found Imperials viewed him as feminine purely due to being elven. Not that they seemed to mind. Ire's youth, inexperience and brief time in Cyrodiil meant he didn't fully grasp the ways his elven gender was fetishised there, by some Imperials. Still, he found certain remarks and attitudes... uncomfortable.
And now he's in Morrowind, where even the most macho of Altmer would be seen as woefully effeminate by the local daggerlads, these ash-covered, ebony-veined, Daedra-licking Dark Elves.
He got the Sanctuary spell on the third try.
I wanted to have chapters named for, and dedicated to, different Illusion spells. I got quite a lot of them, eventually, even if I had to adapt a couple of the names. Here, we have Sanctuary, which makes the caster harder to hit. Question: do we assume that this is due to an applied visual distortion effect? Or could it be affecting the subject's actual tangibility? It's probably the former, but how Illusion spells might affect the sense of touch is going to be significant, later. Perceived qualities vs. physical qualities. How do they affect one another? How do we control them?
If he can't control how others perceive him (and has missed the chance to control whether they perceive him), then Ire can at least control whether they can touch him.
I have a lot more to say about visibility, identity and gender, but I want to come back to it in a later chapter. So for now I'll just say that this spell might someday have been the culmination of Iriel's research into illusion magic:
In the meantime, he'll just have to live in terror, like the rest of us.
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At this point I don’t care if it’s a gay bar, a skooma den, or a gay skooma den.
I think this is the first time Iriel uses the g-word? And some people had opinions about that. Specifically, some readers can tolerate all kinds of technically-anachronistic terminology in a fantasy story, but as soon as you use a "modern" term for a queer identity, their immersion turns to ash in their mouths.
And they are entitled to their opinion, and I totally agree that it's silly to have characters talk about themselves in 21st century tumblr micro-labels, when they're supposed to be medieval goatherds or something, but ALSO... (and I have a way longer version of this rant in the replies to this comment)
Writing Fantasy is Translation.
We always have to assume that the language of a fantastical world is not actually English (or any Earth language). Because Earth languages have our cultures and histories baked into the words.
In translating a foreign word, you have to choose from a range of words in your language, all of them imperfect, all of them bringing new associations, some of them wrong, some anachronistic, all of them adding something and taking something away from the original text.
I don't think there is anything wrong with choosing a modern, colloquial term for a fantasy character's identity, if it's the closest, simplest word for the task, if it fits their linguistic register, and occupies roughly the same place in their brain.
For some reason (I know the reason) fantasy writers are happy to use all sorts of anachronistic modern language, in low fantasy, except when it comes to queer identities. Suddenly, then, it feels weird, so characters start spouting all these awkward, euphemistic phrases, or not talking about it at all. And I was just... really sick of that!
It was a conscious choice to Let Iriel Say Gay, to let him have a way to describe himself, and not fall into that boring trap of being a queer character who just never refers to their sexuality ever, because the writers are too scared of using Terminology (*cough*everydragonagecharacterever*cough*).
a brunette Nord woman leaning on a barrel
IT'S TILDE!!! OMG HI TILDE!!! I had no idea, at this point, how central she would end up being. I hadn't got her voice, yet, in the first version of this chapter, and I had to come back and fix it later, to make sure she sounded like herself, and said proper Tilde things like "dickmaggots".
Tilde is mine now, my OC, go away, Bethesda. You didn't write her, she's just a generic Nord NPC with no personality, who exists to have a code book you can steal, for a quest. So that's all I had to work with, really: Nord, Thieves Guild, knows secret codes.
“Extra-High Elf doin’ OK?”
It took me far longer than necessary to realise the obvious joke I had walked myself into, with my very serious Altmer character with his very serious drug addiction subplot.
He cast surreptitious glances at the other inhabitants of the bar’s lower room.
I did a bunch of brief characterisation of the other Balmora guildmembers, because I thought I might do more with them, but in the end, it was the Sadrith Mora guild where Iriel ended up getting force-found-family'd. Apart from Sottilde and Habasi, we barely see most of these people again, before I eventually... um, y'know. Murdered them all off-screen for drama.
He had, oddly, enjoyed his evening in the South Wall. He had sat by himself, watching other people’s lives go by.
“Thank you,” he said. “Really. Thank you for taking care of me, but I can’t join. I’m sorry.”
Iriel isn't ready to trust another bunch of thieves just yet, so he's ignoring his instincts, for now. But of course he feels more comfortable with a group who are inherently outsiders to society, of course that feels safer and more accepting of difference. Ire knows he's on the verge of finding his people, but that's still scary, because PEOPLE.
next: 11: books & 12: silence previous: 7: choice & 8: simple
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Burn Notice - the journey continues
International air travel can be joyless and soul-sucking. Or with the right mindset and motivation, it can be an opportunity. Which goes to say that I dumped seasons two and three of Burn Notice into my laptop and thoroughly enjoyed my two days of airports and planes. (There will be more on the international travel later, including oceanic giant mantas and sharks.) So far, my Burn Notice character assessment goes like this: Season one – neutral on Michael (generic white male action lead, whatever). I like Sam, most of the time, when he’s not being too sleazy. Fiona’s really annoying. Season two – still neutral on Michael. Fiona’s actually okay now? She’s vaguely annoying now and then, but a lot better than she was. I absolutely adore Sam. Season three – I genuinely like Fiona, she’s great. (It helps that the actor’s got a stable accent now too.) I adore Sam, obviously – I don’t think I’ve ever fallen out of love with a character once they’ve hooked me. Michael is a giant selfish arsehole who doesn’t deserve any of the people in his life, and frankly he needs to be punched in the teeth. I wasn’t expecting to go on A Journey when I started watching a trashy action series like this, but I am, and it’s fun because the characters and plotlines actually change and develop. Fiona changes a lot, and very much for the better – she gains a real sense of responsibility. Sam doesn’t so much change as revert to who he always was, instead of pretending that he can live a normal life and not be bored senseless by it. Even Michael’s mother steps up, when the central trio finally stop telling her painfully obvious lies and give her (some of) the truth – she adopts Michael’s weird friends, and accepts that her home’s now a safehouse for any number of odd people and occasionally becomes a bomb-making factory. Which is great because it means Sharon Gless gets some real acting to do sometimes. The one person who isn’t changing so far is Michael, and that’s a big problem, because he needs to. He starts the show with a Goal, one which is perfectly understandable and reasonable. But as things progress and the consequences of his pursuit of his Goal get worse for everyone around him, he really should take a step back and reassess. When the two people he trusts and relies on for everything are both telling him, ‘Massive red flags, do NOT do this,’ he should fucking listen. But Michael wants what Michael wants, and screw everything else. At least Fiona and Sam are making their own choices and have the training to live with them. Most of the time, they’re having fun doing Michael things – except when they’re really not (and when they’re not, Michael has zero respect for where they draw their lines). Michael’s mother and brother have no say in any of it, and none of the skills, and when they're threatened, kidnapped, arrested or shot, Michael’s quick enough to say sorry – and he changes absolutely nothing about his life that causes it. I still have another four seasons of this to go, and since it switches up at least once a year, I’m deeply curious where it’s all heading next. Despite the busyness of the last two weeks, the fic's currently at 4500 words out of probably 6k or so, and all the research is done. I think. I keep finding some new detail now and then I need to check on...
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Ranking of all the Christmas Horror Movies I’ve seen (as of 2023)
Updated for some new movies I watched this year:
36.Alien Raiders
35.Anna & the Apocalypse
34.Better Watch Out
33.Good Tidings
32.The Wolf of Snow Hollow
31.Jack Frost
30.I Trapped the Devil And this is why you never do surprise visits. Either that or call ahead and touch base long beforehand. It was a bit interesting that the ambiguity of whether it was actually anything supernatural went out sooner then I expected. Then again, if the devil can't keep lying to you, messing with your head would be his plan B. Of course, that means this had to be 90% atmosphere. How much you want to bet he could've easily left the whole time; this was just more fun?
29.Slay Belles
28.P2 Actually a bit similar to Better Watch Out, and while that one looks better visually, I rank this one higher because I believed this villain felt a little more like a real person. Lately, villains that are both masterminds and immature man-children disinterest me, because I can't reconcile those two traits in my head these days. I have a easier time if it's one or the other. Plus, maybe the grungier surrounding felt more appropriate because a too whimsical approach to this "Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them" just rubs the wrong way.
That being said, yeah this location loses some of it's scare factor when it becomes monotonous and hard to navigate. I would've appreciate just a little more variety in the locations used I guess. The use of music is nice at least. Also appreciated how bloody the kills are.
27.The Advent Calendar While the gimmick itself seems to be the only link, I liked the idea of tying "Be careful what you wished for" horror stories to Christmas. Blame George Bailey.
That being said, there's an argument that the conceit of the main character is rather ableist. I can roll with it this time since her previous job and passion, dancing, heavily depended on having working legs, so it's easier to buy. For once, I'd like more disabled characters whose job and hobbies DON'T require it and so can visibly cope. It's getting frustrating.
I did love how open ended they left it. Sometimes, there being a choice at all is more important for a story then what the characters actually chose. Kinda don't want a sequel because of it.
26.Cronos To be honest, this would've actually ranked much higher if it used more iconography. Hell, it becomes New Years halfway through. I get why it's invoked though. It's interesting to go back to the start of Del Toro's career, with one of the most unique vampire movies I've ever seen.
In most body horror set ups like this, Gris would become the main threat, instead of remaining the victim pretty much throughout. I don't think he even kills anyone for their blood.
Vampires are at their most interesting, as a concept and as characters, when they're always in control of their choices, good and bad. Otherwise, why not pick zombies or werewolves?
It's pretty amazing that right out the gate, Del Toro took arguably the most popular monster type of all time, and likened it to a gentle grandparent. Great tone setter for his whole filmography, in hindsight.
25.All the Creatures were Stirring
24.Sint
23.The Lodge
22.Black Christmas (2019)
21.Body
20.Red Snow Yet another Vampire Christmas movie. This time, with a reality check that most of them would be arseholes. Not necessarily wild beasts. That would almost be an improvement.
The movie also keeps you guessing over what side Luke would fall to in the end. Given the way the actor plays it like even he doesn't seem to know is a good touch. And his feedback on the book's characters; snipes at the tropes or his own insecurity? You tell me.
Poor Olivia thought she was getting her own version of Twilight, and instead got Blade by way of Fargo. That sentence is utter nonsense without the context. I would say I want to see a show or movie like that, but I could probably get that fix by just catching up on What We Do in The Shadows. Not that this is anything like that though.
Remember, vampires aren't evil because they're not human at all. They're evil because they kept the worst parts of being human.
19.Pooka Went in thinking tis would be an update of Christmas Evil, but it's more like a Xmas-themed Angel Heart. An obvious commentary on how soul draining working heavily in consumerism can be, masking how bad and traumatized people can do mental gymnastics to avoid the hard truth about their mistakes. Literally, the worst possible Christmas I've seen that didn't have a typical killer. Of course, that twist ending reminds me of...
18.Dead End
17.Black Friday (2021) Also works as a Thanksgiving movie. Anyone's whose worked in a place that affected by Black Friday or Christmas shopping in general FEELS this movie in their bones. Even before the zombies show up. This is why I stay indoors or at work during these days. Sure, the titular day means less and less every year, but let's continue the trend.
16.Silent Night (2012)
15.It's a Wonderful Knife Remake a holiday classic, but make George Bailey a lesbian and Mr. Potter a low rent Trump (Oh god, is that saying a lot!) that gets so fed up that he goes on a killing spree dressed in what would happen if Ghostface bleached his entire costume? Sure, why not. Give the killer Santas a break. And you get to kill him twice.
Although, that third act superpower makes absolutely no sense. I get that it's meant to secure a few plot points together, but...just no. Seriously, where did it even come from? Also, even though how the love interest remembers it is making my head spin. Not how she remembers, but if she remembers both timelines. What problems would come if she only remembers one? And Joel McHale is way too good playing a prick then as a loving dad, I'm sorry. Community has ruined me for him.
Like the subtext of it all though. The messaging, I mean. Y'know given the fiasco going on lately behind the scenes with Scream VII, maybe I'll just pretend this is the real Scream VII. We'll see.
14.Wind Chill
13.Christmas Bloody Christmas
12.Santa's Slay
11.The Children
10.Rare Exports
9.A Christmas Horror Story
8.Day of the Beast Was this meant as a parody of every catholic horror movie released the past 30 years before it? It skewered them good! Pleas tell me the antichrist was fake in this and what we had was one of the insane yet friendliest rampages committed to film! It even has a Peter Vincent clone that keeps getting worse and worse things happening to him! I'd just preferred it was more visibly blasphemous.
7.Deadly Games
6.Silent Night (2021) Surprised? Maybe it's here because I over thought how the significance of the holiday tied in with the apocalypse in this movie. I'm sure if you went back far enough in history, hundreds or thousands of years ago, anytime winter rolled around seemed apocalyptic to people. Of course, mostly to the lower classes. And now with a hypothetical scenario that can feel as bad as those times must have felt, rather then actually tough it out or try to learn from, the government and the upper class jump to take the cowards way out. A little Poe, isn't it?
Cue one of the more depressing then maybe hopeful endings to one of these movies. (Depends to how you react to the very last shot and believe about the plot point concerning the homeless and immigrants)
5.Christmas Evil
4.Krampus
3.Scrooged
2.Black Christmas (1974)
1.Gremlins
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My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E1 (part 1)
Pilot
I've been doing these re-watch/recaps for 2 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (so far) and decided to take a break from that so I can catch up on the next season. So I decided to cover season 1 of Ted Lasso, because I have fallen deeply in love with this show. I watched Cinema Therapy's two part episodes covering Ted on their Psychology of a Hero series (which you should definitely watch because wholesome Internet dads are awesome), and it created a new curiosity in me and I ended up watching the whole show in a week. I'm not even a football fan but I watched this show and loved it.
I know someone else is doing re-watch posts, this is not an attempt to copy. It is my own longer form recap of the show with my own thoughts and feelings and occasionally questions.
So, to begin the episode:
Right away this show let's you know that football is going to be involved, just incase you didn't know what you were getting in for.
The first close up of the season is the person who goes through the most significant change. We meet Rebecca Welton. Formerly Manion, but her ex is an absolute twat.
She is not sentimental towards anything that reminds her of Rupert, and why should she? Like I said, her ex is a twat.
Oh Higgins, next time someone offers you a painting by a famous artist, accept it. Especially if it's priced at £1 million.
Rebecca's divorce was pretty recent if Higgins still has to correct himself on using her last name of Welton and not Manion. It was probably done fairly quickly too. Though Rebecca probably had a slightly better lawyer than Rupert if she managed to get his football club in the divorce. There's no way that Rupert gave it up if he loves it so much.
George Cartrick. A homophobic, misogynistic arsehole who Roy Kent will later describe as a shit manager. He gets fired by Rebecca because of the above reasons, and because he wears inappropriately small shorts that sometimes shows his balls. The fact that Rebecca names the Liam and Noel after the Gallaghers is funny to me because I do not like Oasis.
I love that Rebecca doesn't react to George's attempts to rattle her and just orders lunch instead. Also, raisins in salad? Why?
Now, who could replace George? That would be a one Ted Lasso. Through a news report we learn he is good at his job, a fun person to be around and is not afraid to be a bit goofy in front of people. The man has a victory dance and he will do it. This dance is the same one Jason Sudeikis does on SNL for the skit 'What's up With That?'.
Ted is reading Jack Kerouac's The Dharma Bums while on the plane.
The kid and his 'ussies' pops up a few times, and Ted just rolls with whatever he says. But he doesn't help when he tells Ted that the people at his new job and fans of the sport will murder him.
So, I didn't know anything about Jason Sudeikis before this show. I only watched this because of Cinema Therapy, which endeared me to it. But I when I started watching this show, I did not expect to end up finding Jason attractive. I do now, and who can blame me?
I love Ted and Beard's friendship, they have their own little handshake, are honest with each other, and share in their own little quirks.
Ted is the only one in the plane who doesn't sleep because his head is too swamped with what he is going through. New job, new country and leaving his family behind.
Ted's hair still ends up a mess despite not sleeping and honestly it's hot. I usually get the urge to mess his hair up when I see it.
Ollie, the drive who collects Ted and Beard from the airport, will reappear in ep 3.
There had to be a Wizard of Oz joke in there somewhere. It would have be a crime not to.
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The girl certainly looked out of place as she attempted to hear Sofia better, the young woman watching as the other was elbowed by another patron. This was why people who just wanted to have a bit of fun ended up bailing on these sorts of places, fucking arseholes who didn't give a shit about other people acting like they had a right to be a jerk.
"Personal fucking space," Sofia said over the music to the person who had nudged the girl, poking the back of their arm with one of her nails, watching them roll their eyes at her. Sofia was trying not to get riled up lately but...it was hard. It was harder when it felt consistent, but at least she had the distraction of the softer girl who had been nudged in the first place, the one who had responded to her and deserved the same consideration back.
Sofia moved closer, so no one could inadvertently knock into the girl again. "I swear sometimes it's better, some people are just jerks," she insisted. "Though how loud it is? Well it's quieter upstairs usually, in the fancier parts." Not by much but right down by the bar, with everyone talking over one another...yeah, it was going to be loud.
"This is your first time though?" she asked, leaning in this time to speak directly into the woman's ear so she could hear her. "You want a bodyguard?" Sofia half joked.
What in the world was she even doing there? This wasn't her scene — not at all, but her collegues had asked her to come, and she wanted to fit in. God, she wanted to fit in so badly, just so she wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb, just so people won't look at her and think — sad, little bambi eyes over there. Haylee, just order something — anything. That one with the vodka, what was it —
"Can I get, uh — " a beat; small frame leaning into the bar, just so she didn't have to shout it out loud, "— Sex on the beach?" The bartender met her gaze with a nod. She just needed something to hold on to, a glass of something that wasn't water, that she could click with the others.
"What?" she turned to meet the others, moving in a little closer to be able to hear better, "Oh — It's so loud in here, and it's — " an elbow nearly drilled a hole through her shoulder blade, and she winced slightly. "It's my first time here, I didn't think it'd be like that." a sheepish chuckle leaving her lips.
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ❧ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐒𝐓. 𝐌𝐀𝐔𝐑
FITZWILLIAM DARCY, FROM PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
AMY MARCH, FROM LITTLE WOMEN
THE DOWAGER COUNTESS OF GRANTHAM, FROM DOWNTON ABBEY
BATHSEHBA EVERDENE, FROM FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD
EMMA WOODHOUSE, FROM EMMA
RAIN, FROM SPIRIT: STALLION OF THE CIMARRON
#development#stmdevelopment#this is strictly for fun and it's basically crack but#here we go!#i thought it would be fun as sometimes i pick up on margaret's traits in characters whenever i watch something pertinent#and after some contemplating these roles came most clearly to me#enjoy!#*#also if anyone else wants to do this be my guest -#i just made this up but anyone can do it!#p.s. rain is included because i'm an arsehole
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Slashers with a British S/O
Michael Myers
You had just moved to America when Michael broke into your house and tried to kill your but before he could you just stared him up and down and sighed before saying “fucking Americans”
He would befriend you and then become romantically involved with you after a good amount of time
Still shocks him when he thinks back to that night
He will watch you sometimes talking to yourself and wonders if it’s a British or crazy thing
Bo Sinclair
You were travelling on a road trip around America when you stumbled across Ambrose
You met Bo and instantly he could just not understand you
You had a typical council estate, northern accent and he just couldn’t get what you were saying
You started to talk slower to talk to him and he snapped at you with a “I ain’t an idiot”
To which you responded “fuck off you talking minge” (another offensive word for vagina for my American readers)
He understood that it was an insult but couldn’t understand anything else so you both got into an argument
He found himself interested in you so he kept you around and eventually started dating
Learnt how to understand you a bit more but he will always find it hard to have a deep conversation with you without you slowing down when you speak
Vincent Sinclair
He met you while you were visiting America and instantly was intrigued
He saw how easily to defend your accent and how it angered you when others made a comment about it
You both started dating after you decided to stick around longer and Vincent was the most welcoming guy you had ever met
He will sometimes listen to you ramble and only really understands your slang when he can hear if it’s good or bad by how mad you sound while saying it
He tried to make you and American version of tea and you spat it out and had him show you how he made it
When he shows you that he microwaved the water instead of using a kettle you just stood their shocked for a good two minutes
You show him how to do it properly and it still haunts your nightmares thinking about how that microwaved tea tasted
Thomas Hewitt
You and Thomas started dating after you showed up at the house and he fell smitten with you
You had only recently moved to America so the heat was killing you
You were made fun of for this by Luda may who believes Thomas should have gone with someone who comes from a Christian country since 80% of your country was atheist including you
Your accent will be deeply mocked and it will make you develop a bit of an insecurity about it until you started to quieten down at family dinners, only really talking to Thomas
Your given the name “your majesty” by Hoyt became he thinks that everyone from Britain is fancy even though you came from a Working class council estate home
Thomas will stand up for you and will try to protect you from the mocking
He becomes your big guardian angle at that point
Asa Emory
He wanted to have a change in his collection so he takes you
He wanted to see what a British persons screams would sound like and was intrigued about you
But when you start hurling unrecognisable insults towards him he’s shocked
What was a “bolock bag”? (Ball bag)
He slowly wants to break you and make you into the perfect pet but you just don’t listen to him
You will begin dating after you develop Stockholm syndrome and he still will get insulted if he’s being an arsehole
He noticed when you called your friend your accent would thicken and he could barely understand what point you were trying to make
He will also annoyingly correct you when you use the British word for something instead of the American version
Tiffany valentine
You two met when she was travelling in Jennifer tillys body through Britain
You were a big fan of her and when she payed attention to you because she found you beautiful, you nearly passed out
You help her navigate what she calls a “strange country”
She gets mad at you for apologising when someone bumps into you and tries to tell you it’s not your fault so why would you apologise
To which you just reply “that’s just my manners”
Loves hearing stories from when you were a teenager
You were drinking?! At fourteen?! In a field?!
You gain the nickname “queenie” but it’s affectionate so you allow it
Otis driftwood
You had met when you picked up baby to take her back to the firefly’s
He will instantly mock your accent to which it causes an argument between you two
He called you a little jerk and you called him a “slag”
When he yelled at you to tell him what it meant you gave him the silent treatment
You both start dating because of your argumentative personality’s
Will be shocked at your drinking abilities and when you explain that you’d been doing this since a young age he wasn’t particularly shocked but he saw this as a challenge
All in all just insult him with British slang it’ll annoy him more than anything because he can’t tell what your saying
Baby firefly
Both of you start dating after you were kidnapped by the family and she instantly adored your accent
Still believes that Britain is a magical, glamorous place so you gently have to explain to her that her view simply isn’t true and in fact the working class are deeply mistreated and that the country had a problem with giving the rich way to many opportunities just because they had a lottery ticket as a bloodline
She admires how passionate you were about changing the way the working class are treated
You both argue over things like guns policy since baby believes that if Britain were given guns the crime rate would go down and you thought If you took away guns from America the death rate would go down
You both get into debates around this kind of stuff but it’s always dissolved with you both respecting each other’s opinions
Jason voorhees
You met when your car broke down in the middle of your rode trip near his camp
You both started dating after you calmly responded to his questions of Britain and he’s so intrigued by you be decides to not kill you
He only has two problems with you being British
One is the constant cursing
Cursing was so normal to British people so it just naturally slipped out sometimes
It greatly upset Jason because his mother hated swearing in any for so he has to gently scold you from time to time
Number two was your drinking
Because in Britain you would go to the pub or have a drink at home most weekends that habit carried on into America
Jason has trauma around people drinking because of his past camp counsellors so he has to remind you to not do it so regularly
So you cut down on your drinking to respect his boundaries
As a British person I proofread all the slang
#michael myers x reader#asa emory x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#michael myers#asa emory#bo sinclair#thomas hewitt#tiffany valentine#tiffany valentine x reader#otis driftwood x reader#Otis driftwood#baby firefly#baby firefly x. reader#vincent sinclair#gender neutral reader#slashers x British reader#slashers x reader
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ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!
THANK YOU LINDS <3<3
prompt list here, send a number!!
#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle
#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time
THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!
"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.
See, you knew he would be here.
You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.
Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.
He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.
You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.
It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.
"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."
"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."
"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."
Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.
There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.
You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.
"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."
Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.
"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."
"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"
"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"
"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."
"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"
You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"
"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."
"You're a stalker."
"You sleep on the sofa."
You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.
To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".
"I won't."
"You're getting on my nerves."
"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.
He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.
"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.
In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.
"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"
"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."
"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."
Fool.
"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."
"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"
"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."
Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"
"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."
You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.
You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.
You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.
As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.
Right, getting ready for bed.
You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.
He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.
"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."
"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."
"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."
"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.
You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.
You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."
"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."
"You did that just to annoy me."
You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.
"The bed's too small."
"Are you calling me fat?"
"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.
His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.
"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."
"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."
"Good."
Silence.
It's unbearable.
Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.
A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.
You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.
Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.
"What's wrong with you!"
"The bed's too fucking small."
"We've established that."
He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."
You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.
"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."
"Cuddle? Fuck no."
"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."
"Why don't you–"
"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."
You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.
It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.
You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.
"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.
"I know. Just shut up and sleep."
#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles#harry styles blurb#harry styles smut#harry styles writing#harry styles concept#concepts#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#babyurthendofjune#ask
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i let out a long sigh, eyes narrowing as i watch him put his put his hands behind his had like a proud arsehole. that fucking smirk, he's still doing it. "fuck that." i say firmly as i shove my hands into the pockets of my jacket. if i don't keep my hands tucked away, i might try and smack the smirk off his face. "you'd be a shit comedian. stick to football." yeah jamie could be funny sometimes, not about to admit that. not funny enough to do stand up though. "or give it a try, i don't care. might be fun to watch you bomb on stage."
Jamie sees the way Roy's lips twitch up. He's gotten good at noticing the micro-expressions on the man's face [ that are mostly eyebrow-based, but the lips matter, too ], good at noticing when he's pleased Roy. That was a very funny joke. A very good joke. And Roy fucking appreciated it. He rolls his eyes at Roy trying to play it off like it wasn't a great fucking joke. "Yeah, actually. Fuck all this football shit, I've only been training for it m'whole life," he responds sarcastically, taking a deep breath, lacing his hands together behind his head. "Guess that means y'don't need me at 4 AM anymore, Coach." And there's Jamie's signature smirk.
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fait accompli
pairing: lyutsifer safin x f!reader
part 3 to ‘starting at the end’
part 1 / 2
warnings: explicit sexual themes (18+), dubious consent, unhealthy relationships, unprotected sex
gif credit to the creator
a/n: I’ve totally wrote this whilst listening to chris isaac’s wicked game
Soft knock on the door pulls you out of your thoughts, before footsteps you’d recognize anywhere echo through the room.
“You skipped dinner today”
The four simple mundane words rile you to no end as they move past his lips and travel through the room. You let out an exasperated sigh hoping it would subdue the anger bubbling in you. It doesn’t.
“You’d think me not coming would send a message clear enough to say I wanted to be alone” you retort flatly not bothering to look away from the notepad lazily lying on the desk “like you’ve said, I’m not a prisoner here” you add a tad dramatically.
Silence follows and you busy yourself playing with the pen in your hand hoping he would just leave.
“Is this about earlier?”
You don’t respond. Bicep twitching slightly at the memory of his hand, you feel a dull pain tickle at the spot he was gripping hours ago, a bruise now surely forming.
“What was it about my words that upset you so much?” He presses.
Scoffing at your notepad you slam your pen into it. “Oh I think you know very well what it was”
“I do” you hear a smile in his voice “but there’s no fun in that”
“Arsehole” you whisper under your breath, chancing a glance at him.
He takes it as an invitation. Arms clasped in front of him, he makes his way closer to you. “I only want what’s best for you”
“And what’s best for me is you. Is that it?�� Your voice cracks with emotion as you abruptly stand from your seat twisting your body to face his approaching form. The chair falls with force hitting the wall behind and clatters to the floor echoing through the concrete room.
His eyebrows rise at your impetuousness before he takes another unfazed step towards you.
“Undeniably so” his smile morphs into a vicious smirk. Savoring his words he stops inches away from you gazing at you unperturbed “but there is more”
Reaching out he fixes a strand of hair that has come loose at your sudden movement. He lets the back of his finger travel over the edge of your earlobe, down your neck and collarbone until it stops in the middle of your chest right above your heart.
You try your best to subdue the shiver that runs down your spine. Cursing yourself internally at the feelings it gives rise to.
“Our memories sometimes threaten to destroy us” he taps his finger gently on the spot “I want you to be free of this pain and I will make sure that you are” he promises with a gravely edge to his voice. You feel your heart rate quicken under his digit, the rise and fall of your chest becoming more prominent.
“I just need you to admit it to me” he looks thoughtful, nodding to himself he casts his eyes down onto his finger as he slips it under the edge of your wrap top and teases the fabric to the side exposing a tiny patch of your bare skin.
“Admit what” you breathe out, lifting your hand to swat his finger away. His hand snaps before you can, catching your wrist and wrapping around it like a vice.
An impish smile spreads on his face and you watch his dark cold eyes sparkle for the first time.
“That you want to kiss me”
His words make you freeze as you feel like you need to pick your jaw back up from the floor. You second guess if you heard him right or have you finally lost it and gone insane.
“Excuse me?” You shoot him an incredulous look.
“You’ve heard me” He takes a step forward and you take one back, twisting your wrist you try to wrangle it out of his grip again. But he doesn’t let up.
Your eyes meet his again and you both slip into intimacy that’s difficult to escape. Perhaps being here without contact with the outside world, Safin constantly invading your personal space was starting to get to you. God, you know at night time it did.
Panic stricken thought runs through your head. ‘Did he know?’
Giving up to his unyielding hold on wrist you stop struggling as you cast your eyes down frowning at the little floor space between you. “No”
Your answer only spurs him on. He takes another step forward making you retreat as you strive to keep some sort of distance between you until you feel the smooth concrete wall on your back.
“Why deny yourself something you can get for free” he angles his chin up peering down at you.
“But it’s not free. Not really” you choke out.
“It can be”
“It won’t be”
He closes the gap between you pressing you between the wall and his body. Dipping his head down, his breath caresses the shell of your ear “You will never be able to get away from this.”
“I know.” You admit squeezing your eyes shut.
Dragging your wrist from your chest where you have been holding it like a small shield he presses it against the wall. “You can’t deny our chemistry”
Resting a finger under your chin Safin gently angles your face up making you open your eyes to look at him. “two potent chemicals when combined resulting in a violent reaction”
Shifting his body his knee finds a way between your thighs peeling your legs apart. “Something destructive and beautiful blooms in its wake” he affirms driving his leg forward, his thigh connects with the space between your legs making you involuntarily groan at the pleasure of contact.
He presses his forehead to yours as you stare into his black eyes that only promise to devour you.
“Just kiss me” he whispers onto your lips the soft command laced with demand and desperation. The usual bravado was gone and you can tell he was struggling to control himself just as you were.
He wants you. It pains you to admit it but you want him too.
You let your lips brush against his testing it out. His thigh instinctively presses harder into your core urging you to go on.
Trying again you inhale his breath as he exhales drawing you closer and closer.
Still as a statue he doesn’t move. It’s you that has to come to him. You that has to sign yourself away to him.
And what if you do? Maybe it’s not all bad you reason to yourself. He promises you peace. And you’ve been searching for it far too long. He will take the burden of decision away from you.
And you finally understand.
The idea of him has slithered its way into every cell of your body. Poisoned you whole. And now there’s no antidote, no escape.
Your only solace is flinging yourself off into the pit. Head first. Eyes open.
So be it.
Licking your bottom lip you angle your chin up letting your lips finally meet. You hold your lips to his taking in the new sensation. Something about them feels like sin.
He doesn’t move and you feel he is as stunned with your actions as you are.
It’s when you start to pull back your lips, almost losing contact with his, he finally moves. Crashing into you with an all devouring kiss.
And you’re in free fall. Down into the pit you go.
Your free hand scrambles to grip at his jacket sleeve tugging him closer. Releasing your wrist he moves both of his hands to your waist keeping you in place before his second leg makes its way in between yours. Your hands travel to his chest as you grab handfuls of his jacket pulling it closer to you. Dragging his fingers down from your waist to your thighs he grips the back of them as he effortlessly hoists you up. Instantly your legs wrap around his waist you can feel he’s already hard.
His eager kisses make it to the corner of your mouth as they leave a trail down your jawline and find their way to your neck as his nimble fingers work the tie on your top.
He grinds his length against you and you can’t help but let out a shameless moan. Tie undone his hands rapidly pull your top apart exposing your breasts to the cold air.
He pulls away for a moment to inspect the new territories of your skin memorising every detail of this moment as you try to catch your breath. His greedy hands snake their way up to your breasts.
“You’re beautiful like this” his voice is hoarse. He pinches your nipple twisting it between his digits intently observing how his actions elicit another moan out of you.
His mouth replaces his hands returning to your skin trailing wet kisses in between your breasts as he whispers into your skin “so beautiful.”
Hands moving under your ass he gives you a light tap signalling for you to stand up. Unbunching the fabric from your fists your hands travel onto his shoulders you unwarp your legs from his waist.
As your feet land on the floor his hands snap onto your hips as he abruptly turns you, your back now to him. He swiftly pulls your top off your back as it flutters without a sound to the floor. His fingers wrap around your throat as he pulls you back into his chest.
He traces the tip of his nose at the little spot behind your ear “I will make you mine” he whispers following up his promise sealed with a chaste kiss to the spot sending a chill down your spine.
His other hand finds his way to the tie on your trousers which he unceremoniously undoes letting them slide down your legs and pool around your ankles. Returning to your skin his hand traces down your belly as it reaches your panties, his fingers teasing you through the fabric gathering up the wetness that's beginning to pool. A whimper escapes through your lips.
Tightening his grip on your throat he turns your head towards his as he captures your lips in another fervent kiss. Licking at your lips his tongue slips into your mouth and you reciprocate eagerly.
He pulls your panties to the side as his fingers come in contact with your hot sensitive skin. You feel wetness coat his fingers as they slide easily between your lips. Up and down as he teases you until his finger dips towards your entrance he swiftly slips a finger into you making you moan into his mouth. Then another before he curls them inside. “You will be mine” growls into your mouth.
His words push you over the edge and you feel your body start to tremble at his ministrations, the only thing holding you up is the hand firmly planted over your throat.
You huff in frustration as Safin pulls his fingers out of you. Breaking the kiss he soothes you with a shush and his fingers return to your clit rubbing ruthless circles. Unwrapping his hand from your throat he slides it down your skin to your shoulder bending your body forward letting your cheek press against the cold concrete wall.
His nails drag down your spine leaving a trail on your skin as you make an eager sound.
His hands disappear for a moment before he enters you without a warning and the moan that escapes you is obscene.
Sliding himself slowly in and out his hands return to your back scratching patterns into your skin making you curl your back to him.
“Lyutsifer..please” you manage somehow gathering any strength you have remaining . He chuckles behind you and you get ready for a sarcastic remark, but all you feel is his hands sliding up to your shoulders, firmly gripping them he slams himself into you picking up the pace.
Adjusting one arm from your shoulder he moves it over your chest as he pulls you back to him. Tightly holding you in place as his other hand finds its way back between your legs as his finger presses over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He buries his face deep into the nape of your neck and you feel he’s close. But if he keeps up his pace, so are you.
His merciless hand doesn’t let up as he furiously pounds into you and it doesn’t take you long to peak as you cry out his name.
Not stopping he fucks you through your orgasm. Overstimulated you turn into a whimpering mess as he rams into you. Squeezing you posessively to him he groans as he thrusts into you one last time before filling you up.
Pulling himself out he doesn’t let go as he holds you from behind giving you both a moment to catch your breath.
In between shallow breaths his lips trace up your neck leaving tiny kisses in their wake. “Now would you reconsider if it’s really so terrible to stay here with me?”
You hum as you move your hand to rest over his arms hugging you. Angling your head you peer up at him before pressing another kiss to his lips and it’s a sign enough for him for now. He casts his eyes down to meet yours as he tightens his arms around you.
“I want you to know that you’re safe here… safe with me”
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