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redfoxwritesstuff · 2 months ago

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A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 47 (Human Alastor x Married Reader)

CW: Domestic Al, the usual Prev__ Welcome Post__ AO3__ KoFi Show your support by leaving a tip, buy Kit a coffee!

“Why are we buying books?” Mimzy asked as she followed Alastor through the small shop. “Don’t you have enough?”

“They’re not for me,” Alastor said, explaining the absence of books in your home and how Laurence had discouraged reading since your marriage.

“That’s a right shame,” Mimzy said, halfheartedly. She wasn’t personally fond of reading. It wasn’t a way she liked to pass the time. That didn’t matter, though. The idea of a man telling a woman what she could and couldn’t do to pass her time got under her skin.

“I told her I’d bring her a few,” Alastor added, “Nothing too big to hide.”

“She still locked away in her cage?” Mimzy asked, annoyance with your circumstances fueling her to look at the books with just a little more interest.

“Unfortunately,” Alastor settled on a selection, tucking it under his arm along with his personal choice, a new mystery. “But we’re making do.”

“Al,” Mimzy followed him, paying the shopkeeper no mind as they exchanged pleasantries.

“I’ve got it handled, Mimzy.” Alastor’s voice was cheery, hiding the poor mood the questioning risked putting him in.

“You need to stop seeing her,” Mimzy spoke softer as they stepped out onto the street. He had wanted to pick up a few groceries. Laurence would be gone for a good while, having to run deliveries for a few hours in the afternoon.

Alastor hated the fact that his time was so limited with you. Between preparing for his shows, maintaining his own residence and broadcasting, it cut into the time he had secured with Laurence away more than he liked.

That was alright, he kept telling himself. It had gotten you more time without Laurence hitting you, and that was what mattered most. It made the sting of knowing you were away from him hurt just a little less.

“And why are you getting so much stuff?” Mimzy questioned as Alastor moved onto purchasing seafood a few stores down.

“I’ll be making gumbo for a late lunch,” Alastor didn’t bother glancing at Mimzy to see her disapproving look.

“At your house, right?” Mimzy said as he handed over a few coins. “Or at mine?”

“At her’s.” Alastor answered, setting out on the mission to get sausage from the butcher next. “Why ever would I be making it at your house?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Mimzy followed, hot on his heels, “Because you used to come over and make your old gal gumbo once in a while?”

“But now I have a gal!” Alastor laughed, delighted to get to say it.

“A gal,” Mimzy hissed as she pulled him down by the arm so she could nearly whisper into his ear, “whose husband you’re planning to kick off.”

“I’ve got it under control.” Alastor assured her as he stood again. “We’ll be starting that little event in a week or so.”

“Why waste time?” Mimzy rolled her eyes as they stepped into the butcher shop. “Really, Al?”

“It wouldn’t look good if it happened too soon.” Alastor answered before directing his attention to the butcher.

“And you think it’s not a risk to be spending so much time over there?” Mimzy asked as the butcher packaged up the order. “Won’t it, you know-”

“Raise suspicions?” Alastor whispered, leaning down for the shorter woman to hear him.

“Yeah,” Mimzy whispered back as he straightened. “Cooking there and being there.”

“I’m being careful.” Alastor said simply, putting the conversation to bed.

You hummed as you worked, listening to the upbeat jazz playing through the radio as you kneaded a lump of dough that would become pasta. It wasn’t a favored meal of Laurence’s but it put up well and would make for a filling dinner tomorrow.

What exactly you’d make with it? You were not sure. Raviolis perhaps? Regardless of what you picked, Laurence wouldn’t be pleased by it. He would have to deal with it though, and you with his raging and cutting words.

Like it or not, he hadn’t taken you out to shop nor had he brought home groceries for you to cook with. Unless he did one of those two things or heavens, if he granted you a little funds and the simple pleasure of leaving the home without him by your side, it would be pasta for dinner.

Today’s dinner- oh you looked forward to it. You didn’t know what you would be having or how you’d be cooking it. Alastor’s letter promised that he’d have everything planned. All you had to do was leave it to him and wait.

It was all you could think about. There was so very little to occupy your thoughts while you were trapped in the home. You spent your days cleaning, cooking, and sitting on your bed, rereading the letters Alastor left for you.

The sound of someone knocking at the front door startled out of your thoughts, nearly causing you to drop the dough you were midway through transferring to the bowl. Carefully, you set it into the bowel and tossed the cloth over it. You grabbed another towel to wipe the flour from your hands as the knocking resumed.

“Coming!” you called out as you crossed into the living room, shoes click clacking against the wooden floors. The sound muffled slightly as you crossed the large rug that sprawled out from under the sofa as you neared the door.

Opening it, you smiled wide to see Susan standing behind it. Alastor warned you that someone would come by, but not who. She held in her hand a bag in hand, clearly containing something large. Alastor had a plan for today, but it wasn’t one he let you in on.

“For you,” Susan said, handing the bag over. “If anyone asks, I came to check up on you since you haven’t been by the shop in a while. He would believe that, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes,” you said, wanting to ask how much she knew. It felt like suddenly, somehow when you were not looking, everyone knew about what you were doing with Alastor. There was freedom in that thought, but also fear.

All it would take was one person opening their mouth for the house of cards to fall down. You didn’t know if Susan figured it out herself or if Alastor had told her. At least if he had told her, you could tell yourself you were not obvious. How could you even ask, though?

Susan made the fourth person to know, if she even knew, outside of the two of you, that you were aware of. Plus, Laurence had his suspicions. Thinking about how many people knew or could know, it made it feel like the walls were closing in on you.

“It’s okay,” Susan whispered. “I’m on your side.”

“Thank you,” you said, lifting the bag as she stepped away. To anyone who saw or somehow heard your words, it would seem you were thanking her for delivery and not for keeping your secret. “So very much.”

“Don’t mention it,” Susan said, turning and walking down the walkway as you heard the backdoor in the kitchen open.

Glancing over your shoulder as you closed the front door, you saw the impressive form of Alastor step into view. You realized again how handsome he was. It felt like something that you should get used to and yet there were moments where your breath was still locked in your chest as you looked at him.

It was amazing every time you looked at him. Your heart felt so full whenever you got to spend time with him. He was the one man you wanted, above all. You didn’t deserve him, but for as long as you could, you were determined to cling to him.

“Welcome back,” you said as you turned to the man who was already quickly crossing the living room. “Susan just dropped this off.”

“I know,” Alastor said as he wrapped an arm around your waist, resting his other hand against your neck. The side of his hand pushed up against your jaw, urging you to tilt your head up. It wasn’t as if you needed that encouragement. You were eager to recieve his sweet kiss. “I sent her.”

“She knows?” you whispered, lips brushing against his as you formed the question only to have them stilled by his. Sighing, you ran your hands up his chest and along his shoulders, sinking into the kiss. Your back arched as you curled into his touch, allowing him to support you.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that all day,” Alastor admitted when you let your lips free. He helped you stand, smiling cheekily at the flush on your face. He wondered if he would always have the power to cause you to flush as he took the bag from you.

“So have I,” you confessed, fingers reaching up to caress your lips, still feeling the ghost of his kiss as you followed Alastor into the kitchen. He moved through your house as if he belonged. You dearly wished he did.

“About Susan,” Alastor started after clearing his throat, “She knows, just not to the extent of our… entanglement.”

“Entanglement.” You parroted, not liking the word. It didn’t do justice to what you had between the two of you and yet you struggled to come up with something more fitting.

“Yes,” Alastor said after setting the bag on the workstation. Turning, he swept you back up in his arms, holding you tightly against him. “Entanglement. My heart is entangled in yours. My fingers long to be entangled in your hair. My limbs long to be entangled in yours.”

“Suddenly, ‘entanglement’ doesn’t sound so bad.” You couldn’t resist leaning into Alastor’s embrace. “What’s in the bag?” you asked, allowing him to still hold you. There was some easy comfort being held by him. It felt safe. You always felt so safe with him.

“I went shopping for lunch. You’ve not eaten yet?” Alastor rocked, almost dancing with you in the kitchen but not quite. It was a relaxed, intimate moment. This is what you felt like marriage should be, though you only had your own marriage and that of your parents to compare it to.

This was what you wanted out of your married life and who you wanted it with

“I’ve not,” you allowed your head to rest on his chest, tucked against him with his arm around your waist. “I just set pasta aside to rest.”

“Oh!” Alastor’s smile grew, “And she can make pasta!?”

“Do you like pasta?” you asked as you watched him unpack a few wrapped packages, brown butcher paper neatly folded and tied with twine. Next to them he set celery stalks, onion and a pepper.

“I do,” Alastor looked down at you, tucked into his side and clinging to him. This was something he could get used to, though he never thought he would desire it. “It’s not something I make often.”

“My mother often made pastas.” You looked up at him only to have his head dip down, curling around you to place a soft kiss on your lips. “I learned from her.”

“Will you make me pasta someday?” His thumb caressed your jaw as you gazed up at the man you loved.

“As many times as you want.” Alastor looked back to his ingredients, spread out on the kitchen worktable in front of him, freeing you from the spell of his eyes. “What are we making?”

“I-” he stressed the word as he pulled one last package from the bag, “Am making you a pot of gumbo. Lunch for us and a dinner for him.” Alastor’s lip curled up in a snarl as he referred to your husband. “Susan’s been talking all day to anyone that’ll listen that she was going to bring you a pot of gumbo for a cover.”

“You’re going to make it?” You blinked at him and then down at the wrapped package he set in your hands.

“I am,” Alastor nodded, easily undoing the apron from behind your back. The strings slipped down, and the fabric fell loose, no longer hugging your form. “You are going to relax. Aren’t you going to unwrap your gift?”

“My gift?” You looked from him to the package in your hand, wrapped in simple paper and tied in place with twine. It was small but solid and in your heart, you know what it was.

“Go on,” Alastor urged, fetching a small folded knife from his pocket. He held it out to you. “If you need it,” he said.

You tugged at the twine, the neat bow quickly dissolving in to what amounted to a tangled knot. How he had tied something that had been so pretty upon presentation and not actually functional, you didn’t know.

“Bows are not my strength.” Alastor chuckled as you gave up, taking the knife from him. His eyes followed you as you slipped the blade under the twine. The blade was so sharp that you didn’t have to do anything to slice the twine free.

The paper crinkled as you unwrapped it from around the item. It had concealed a book, as you had suspected. The title was that of some romance you had heard women speaking about a few months prior, before you had spent much of your free time not on running your errands and shopping but on Alastor.

It had felt like a lifetime ago. It felt like Alastor had always been there, in your life, walking alongside you in the shadows. It was just a matter of time before he stepped into the light and laid claim on your heart and your life.

You looked from the book’s simple cover and up to Alastor’s soft smile. “I thought perhaps you would like it. If you don’t, we’ll try another if you’d like.”

“Alastor,” his face wavered in your vision, dancing along the tears that gathered in your eyes.

“It’s small, so you can hide it. The paper is waxed. If you need to hide it outside, it’ll be alright as long as it’s not-”

You launched yourself into his chest, arms wrapping around him as you nuzzled your face into him. Tears fell, wetting his jacket as the weight of his arms settled around you.

“Thank you.”

“Anything for you, Cher.” Alastor placed a soft kiss atop the crown of your head. “Go sit and read. I’ll start the food.”

“Are you-”

Alastor silenced your words with a kiss, soft against your lips. “I am sure.”

It had been his intention for you to sit on the couch, somewhere comfortable and relax a he stood over the stove, mixing oil and flour over the flame. The whisk scraped softly against the bottom of the pot, rhythmic sound paired with the musical whistling of Alastor.

It made a beautiful chorus over the sound of the instrumental music playing from the radio. You sat in the hard wooden chair at the kitchen table, though Alastor protested for the sake of your comfort. There was nothing he could say that would send you to a more comfortable seat because what you wanted most was to be near him.

The world fell away as you were absorbed in the book and the sounds of cooking. This was what you wanted your life to be. You could picture it, taking turns with your husband, making meals together and listening to the other.

“How’s the book so far?” Alastor asked, drawing you out of the world of balls and spring courting. There was a click as he lit the flame to the stove.

“It’s good,” you answer, carefully putting a piece of twine between the pages and closing the book. “I think I’ll like it.”

“What are you doing?” Alastor asked, glancing over his shoulder at you as your chair scarped against the floor.

“At least let me help chop?” You wrapped your arms around his waist, slotting yourself against his side. “And then I’ll go back to reading?”

“You’re going to insist, aren’t you?” Alastor chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you. “Even if I tell you to go sit back down?”

“I am.” You leaned into his embrace, looking up at him. “I missed you.”

You could feel Alastor’s warm laugh as it rumbled through his chest. “I’ve not gone anywhere.”

“But I did,” you spoke into the side of his chest. “I got to leave here without going anywhere at all.”

“That is the magic of books, isn’t it?”

There was so much love and warmth in his eyes as he looked down at you. It made your heart feel full to bursting and yet you couldn’t look away. Alastor leaned down, curling to brush his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“I love you,” Alastor said simply. “More than I ever thought I could.”

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signanothername · 11 months ago

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saw your recent post about Nightmare's room for Dream, and it reminded me of a fic, where due to Dream still physically and mentally being 6 in the stone, Nightmare was preparing for what to do now as the 'older brother'

which made me wonder

I'm betting Ink or someone from the Omega Timeline found Dream first when he was freed from the statue

What would've happened had it been Nightmare? When faced with this small six year old who is nothing like he remembers, would Nightmare's true self and corruption be mentally first fighting on what the hell to do?(The mental image of this is a bit comical)

Aw that’s adorable dhhxhxhxh

So funny enough, I kinda already made 2 comics that explored what Nightmare’s reaction will be to a small 6 y/o Dream before, just under completely different circumstances

But here’s the thing, while i have explained before how Nightmare’s corruption works in my eyes, I don’t think I was really clear in my explanations, so I’m taking your ask as an excuse to explain it better >:) (i’ll get back to your main question I promise hdhdhdh i just wanna help you connect some dots when it comes to Nightmare’s behavior)

So something to keep in mind is how Nightmare’s mind isn’t truly strong enough to fight off his corruption/corrupted thoughts from controlling him and guiding his actions, and while Nightmare is in absolute control of his mind, his corruption has shaped it in its own twisted way, that’s why he’s an absolute fucking bitch, that’s why Nightmare can be extremely cruel to those around him

Think of his corruption as a parasite, it feeds off Nightmare’s own pain and in turn it’s what makes Nightmare feel that pain (and his own emotions) magnified times a thousand

So when say a normal person who isn’t corrupted feels anger for example, they would feel that anger through stages from it being a mere mild frustration that turns to anger and then full blown rage (depending on the situation of course), but even then a normal person would be able to control that frustration so it doesn’t escalate to anger and in turn never turns to rage, or even if this person were to immediately jump to rage, then they’ll be able to calm themselves down by venting that anger a bit

Nightmare on the other hand,

A- doesn’t go through those stages for his emotions, he immediately experiences the most intense form of them

and

B- those feelings never go away, they linger and fester inside him like an infestation as it is what his own corruption feeds on

He feels angry? That anger is a full blown rage inside him, he feels sad? That’s crushing depression for him, he feels hate? That hate is nothing but raw loathing for everyone and everything around him, he feels fear? It’s fucking paralyzing to the point Nightmare seeks power so he won’t have to feel afraid, he feels happy? It’s tainted by his now sadistic behavior as Nightmare finds sick satisfaction and glee in hurting those around him

Of course, how he deals with that changes as he grows and learns and adapts, so such emotional intensity/ instability is extremely apparent on him as a newly corrupted 6 y/o who feels all alone and lost in the world while it shapes his personality and who he becomes as an adult with a lot more control over his actions/reactions (corruption + bad experiences that shapes his mind = Mean Girl Bitchmare)

What I’m trying to say is that his corruption contributes to his emotional instability, and that corruption knows what to feed on exactly, it makes it so Nightmare feels dependent on negativity so he won’t have to experience what it’s like to feel powerless again, it feeds on his fear, pain, anger, hatred and it extends to Nightmare’s sadistic cruel actions that in turn brings more negativity, which in turn makes him stronger and by extension the corruption stronger which contributes to magnifying his emotions even more, which leads to more cruelty and so on, it’s a never ending torturous cycle that no one is aware Nightmare’s in.. including Nightmare himself, Nightmare is as much of a victim to his corruption as those poor souls who have to deal with Nightmare cause of it

The corruption magnifies Nightmare’s emotions too much for his mind to even be able to process them let alone regulate them, (and Nightmare already has problems understanding his own emotions to begin with) and in turn that corruption only got to his mind as well

Imagine it this way, Nightmare’s mind is plagued by his now corrupted thoughts, he can’t truly think clearly through the thick suffocating corruption, trauma, and horrifying experience in his first 500 years of corruption, it’s like looking through a broken mirror, the pieces of the mirror are still there, and they still show his reflection, but they’re too distorted and messy to form a clean and clear reflection, Nightmare looks at himself in that mirror, but all he sees is scattered pieces of who he used to be (he can no loger recognize his reflection) and so as Nightmare keeps trying to put the pieces back together, it’s more and more clear that not only do they now show the reflection of he used to be, but also who’d he become, the shattered mirror pieces reflect both his corrupted and passive self in a distorted messy way (that’s who Nightmare is now)

Ok if that’s the case, how come Nightmare has kind moments that contradicts his own corrupted state of being? Cause despite his corruption, he’s still Nightmare, I can never emphasize that enough

Despite the cycle he’s in, despite the state of those shattered pieces of who he used to be, those pieces that has his passive self STILL EXIST alongside his corrupted pieces, Nightmare’s own mind, thoughts, emotions and identity beyond that corruption still linger inside him, even if if in a sort of a limbo state

Ok with that all in mind, what the fuck does that have to do with a 6 y/o Dream? Everything

Just like I showed in the comic before, Nightmare would be too blinded by his own pain and hatred (that’s magnified by his corruption) to actually slow down and realize that Dream is 1- literally still a 6 y/o in mental and physical capacity, and 2- is just as in much pain and with such as much trauma as he is

Nightmare hates Dream with a passion

But the thing is, as I showed in this comic here, apart of Nightmare still deeply cares about Dream, even when Nightmare’s in absolute denial about it, I dare say Nightmare doesn’t even realize how much that lil part of him cares

And that would reflect on how he deals with Dream, Nightmare would be conflicted alright, but his corruption would win first and foremost and as such, he’ll deal with Dream with cruelty (that he later realizes was a mistake)

I will not lie, I’ve yet to decide on what I love to think happened to Dream as a statue, but allow me to say that it’s one of 4 options, I like to believe it’s either

A- Nightmare kept him in Dreamtale beside the corpse of their mother

B- took Dream with him to his own castle where he kept him in a safe space

C- left him in a remote part of the multiverse in an empty universe devoid of life (which later got populated)

D- a combination between A and B and C in a linear timeline (i think option D is my fave so far, but I haven’t made a final decision yet :’D)

That being said, the moment Dream breaks out his stone prison, I believe Dream would be too confused and scared to understand what’s going on, hell, would probably think the Apple incident happened just yesterday, not that 500 years passed (you can imagine Dream’s shock later) only to start frantically searching for Nightmare and when he does find his twin? Nightmare doesn’t look like Nightmare anymore, where’s his golden crown? Where’s his tunic? Why is he so much taller? So many questions, and Nightmare’s not in the mood to answer

Nightmare would definitely be shocked to see Dream out of his prison, a big part of him hates that Dream escaped it, Dream doesn’t deserve to be free, another part of him (the one that cares) is relieved cause turning him to stone was never the plan, and then the more dangerous corrupted part of him is sadistically gleeful, he could finally get a proper payback and to have the golden apple from such a weak, small and helpless child

Dream would start talking about how he wants Nightmare back and you can imagine how pissed Nightmare would be at Dream’s daring audacity to bring up the apple incident

Their first interaction after Dream is finally freed is not at all pleasant (the fact Dream is still a 6 y/o physically and mentally doesn’t deter Nightmare’s cruelty)

Nightmare eventually realizes he should’ve been a lot more merciful on his twin when he first broke out his prison, yet that sadistic gleeful part of him can never be quelled (unbeknownst to Nightmare that the glee he feels at Dream’s misfortune is just his trauma shaped in a twisted manner due to his corruption, he feels like Dream hadn’t suffered like he had, so Nightmare will make Dream suffer himself)

And the rest is (kinda) history :)

#anothers ask #anothers art #dreamtale #nightmare sans #dream sans

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pm-my-beloved · 7 months ago

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Expresions of Sins

BREAKS THROUGH THE WALL I HAVE NOTICED A DETAIL MOST INGENIOUS

You guys know how we have Mirror Dungeon floor packs, I have seen some (Including myself) look at the sin weaknesses ones to interpret what sin... weaknesses in EGO could mean.

ONLY NOW have I thought to notice the theme packs of USERS of those sins. While i don't think those are representing what sins themselves are using, I do think they might signify the main expressions of those sins, or maybe degrees of that expression

Beware, this is going to be more chaotic, as I am writing this RAW without any particular deep analysis, more as a jump-off point for thinking, and all of it might just be making a lot out of nothing BUT WHATEVER ANYWAYS STARTING WITH

Wrath, which is represented with words "Repressed" and "Unbound", quite contradictory adjectives to attach to the same word. With the fact that "Unbound" one is the one with warning signs, it might reffer to degrees. Repressed is expression of wrath that is still somewhat managable when we contain the rage against injusticies or what we hate, while unbound is when this sin goes beyond control, when the fires of hatred overtake our actions (Hi sinclair and Ishmael)

Addiction and Tangling. Personal reading here, Addiction is something that comes up because theres lack in your life that you feel the need to fill, so here its pursuit of lust in search to fix what we are lacking, while tangling is when we are completly out of control of it, when instead of pursuing lust, its lust that controls us (hi bloodfiends)

Treadwheeling is basically a meaningless action that brings no change, so treadwheel sloth is acts which either perpetuate status quo, or have no bearing on reality, actions that change nothing. Then Inert sloth, is when we stop taking actions all-together of our own volition, rather, just flow according to our preexisting pressures and circumstances (oh hi yi sang)

Here my reading is as such Devoured Gluttony somewhat implies that there is some form of satiantion to this hunger, this craving according to which someone acts, while excessive suggests that there never will be any form of satisfaction to ones pursuits (Oh hi faust, what are you doing here)

Yeahhh i've got nothing.

Vain pride seems to imply simply perceiving oneself as better to others, while tyrannical being such certainty in ones superiority or rightousness as to impose it onto others.

With how I read envy as at its core inferiority, the Insignificance here seems to read to me as acting in perception of oneself as not worth the time, effort or attention (Oh hi heathcliff), while pitiful is when that goes to level where one perceives ones existance as lamentable to a point where one deserves some sort of compensation for it.

Sorry for complete chaos of this one, I can't really focus my thoughts RN and wanted to put this out.

Also, @lu-is-not-ok pinging the OG sin interpreter to see his potential thoughts if he feels like those theme packs hold any sort of significance.

#lcb analysis #limbus company #Sin Analysis #No beta we die like DQ

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a-d-nox · 1 month ago

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greek asteroid observations (part 6)

these observations are completely hypothetical. they are based on my (and the those closest to me's) experiences with each aspect/placement! please don't take everything i say as predestined, astrology is possible outcomes not guaranteed ones. this is just a starting place for when examining singular objects in an entire galaxy (these are not the only asteroids in affect for you). take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

⚡︎ 8h eucharis (181) and/or aspecting the 8h ruler people's growth and transformation may be overshadowed by their sense of duty to help others.

⚡︎ eucharis (181) negatively aspecting neptune - beware you are likely to believe there is romantic love in circumstances where there isn't

⚡︎ leo (5°, 17°, 29°) klytia (73) people get revenge on those they are jealous of in one of two ways: outshining their rival or turning those who are loyal to them against them

⚡︎ 6h klytia (73) and/or aspecting the 6h ruler people tend to look up to people they work with yet feel that those people reject them and their ideas

⚡︎ klytia (73) negatively aspecting saturn people often experience romantic related depression because the person they love doesn't love them as much as they do them.

⚡︎ aries (1°, 13°, 25°) medusa (149) and/or aspecting mars people have a protective quality that is much like medusa's face being pressed into athena's shield - they're presence seems overwhelming and even intimidating

⚡︎ pisces (12°, 24°) medusa (149) and/or aspecting neptune people are likely to have other project their fantasies on to them

⚡︎ 12h medusa (149) and/or aspecting the 12h ruler people tend to suppress their beauty - others don't see it or they don't recognize until way later how beautiful they actually are/were

⚡︎ 12h medusa (149) and/or aspecting 12h ruler people are often set up by those they may not be able to identify to be blamed or punished for something they didn't do

⚡︎ cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) nessus (7066) and/or negatively aspecting moon people let their emotions drive their actions

⚡︎ a capricorn (10°, 22°) nessus (7066) and/or positively aspecting saturn person has more impulsive control than others

⚡︎ 10h nessus (7066) and/or aspecting the 10h ruler people, it kills others to see that you can succeed despite all that they put you through

⚡︎ 8h pholus (5145) and/or aspecting the 8h ruler people, the boundaries you set are deeply connected to the trauma and adversity you have faced

⚡︎ lots of conjunctions to pholus (5145) can be very worrisome as you might have very self-destructive tendencies

⚡︎ pholus (5145) negatively aspecting neptune fail to see the danger their curiosity puts them in until its too late

⚡︎ libra (7°, 19°) scylla (155) people tend to have a stoic feminine energy then they snap one day and it's the ultimate feminine rage / crash out

⚡︎ 7h scylla (155) and/or aspecting the 7h ruler people - sorry to say this but your ex-partners, or even your known enemies, have a tendency to depict you as monstrous

⚡︎ 6h sirene (1009) and/or aspecting the 6h ruler people are office sirens (on the nose but true)

⚡︎ sirene (1009) positively aspecting the sun people tend to charm others with ease

⚡︎ leo (5°, 17°, 29°) talos (5786) people are bold and protective guardians

⚡︎ the worst thing an aquarius (11°, 23°) talos (5786) and/or aspecting uranus person can do is stand still - this placement demands constant movement and evolution

⚡︎ 12h talos (5786) and/or negatively aspecting 12h ruler people are very unlikely to like the idea of tech/ai existing in the world in fact the may hate or even fear it (irobot vibes)

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return to nox’s guide to metaphysics

return to the masterlist of greek myths & legends

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finisnihil · 1 year ago

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Some people need to learn the difference between like/disliking a character on a personal level v. a writing level. I dislike some characters on a personal level but I do love their writing and characterization on a meta level and any of my bullying of them is mostly for jokes. Meanwhile there's also characters who I adore on a personal level but abhor the writing of because it feels like their concepts or potential as a character were squandered.

I've said it before i'll say it again when you let your personal bias on a character infect your analysis of them you get mischaracterization. Part of media literacy is seperating authoral intention from reader response and thinking about if anything about the character or their interactions can cloud your judgement of them on a surface level.

For example, in the 2.1 quest of HSR I saw some Aventurine lovers absolutely jump on a hate train for Sunday because in their eyes, Sunday was villainous for his actions against Aventurine and deserved to be put down for it. But, when you stop bastardizing Sunday in an effort to validate and sanitize Aventurine's motives you see the two are actually equally complicit in hurting the other. Sunday did try to turn Ratio against Aventurine and he did cast the whole Truth or Die spell but when you actually critically analyze Sunday and his role in the interaction he is more sympathetic and he makes more sense.

Aventurine was going into the interaction, an interaction regarding the IPC's increasingly aggressive attempts to recolonize Penacony after losing it as a prison planet, bragging about using the horrific murder of Sunday's sister to exploit him. Aventurine has never once hid his intentions, he's sympathetic but that doesn't change the fact he's trying to rip Penacony's freedom away for the IPC. We've seen what the IPC does to planets, no matter how corrupt the Family is, the IPC will be worse without a doubt. Aventurine is a morally grey character, he took the gamble of lying under the spell and he understood the stakes when he did it. Trying to bastardize Sunday in order to try and act like Aventurine didn’t have the autonomy to fuck around and find out is really disingenuous to both characters.

As for Sunday, Sunday is incredibly sympathetic too. We know he’s under crushing pressure by everyone around him to hide things for the sake of public image and we know he’s sacrificed a ton for his sister. Sunday is reverential of Xipe but we see him being actively wary of the Family. He knows there’s a traitor, he knows the Family is rotting with ill intent, he knows Death is on the loose. Robin and him are doing their damndest to handle these problems within their circumstances and we’ve seen their notes! They aren’t ignoring the problem, they’re even trying to get outside help from both the Astral Express and Aventurine. We see the Lightcone of their childhood in an otherwise clinical and impersonal office, one where he built her a toy stage and became her first audience. He cares about Robin more than anything and you see his rage and grief being suppressed yet slipping here and there and causing him to make sloppy mistakes, such as using the Truth or Die spell to lash out at Aventurine when he feels cornered with no control over the situation. When he confronts Gallagher he finally cracks and just… breaks. You see him lose it to the point he doesn’t even notice Death behind him until it’s too late. Despite being likened to songbirds, Robin and Sunday both died quietly in their gilded cages. They are the canaries in the coal mine.

Sunday and Aventurine are meant to parallel each other, they both lost their sister in a gruesome event outside of their control because they couldn’t protect her. Sunday couldn’t protect her from the cage he let himself be trapped in so she could fly free and Aventurine couldn’t protect her because he was too small and too young and too lucky. One is a younger brother and one is an elder brother.

The only major difference between them is who we experience the story through. Aventurine is our eyes for most of 2.1 so therefore Sunday is the one put in the antagonistic role. Antagonists are characters who’s motives and goals oppose the protagonists. Because of this, we have to flesh out Sunday’s character via subtext because we don’t have the luxury of his POV to be blatant like with Aventurine. If the roles reversed, if Sunday was our eyes, I bet Aventurine would be the one getting the flack instead.

#honkai star rail #finis analyzes #hsr aventurine #hsr robin #hsr sunday #I also had some people get upset with me for not liking Ratio and joking about it #I don’t like Ratio PERSONALLY #I do like him from a writing standpoint I think he’s a strong character narratively #My personal feelings don’t mean I don’t understand him or his motives or character it just means he gets on my nerves whenever he talks #I will never understand the need to water down a character’s actions to make them appear less morally grey #If you like the character their bad deeds come with it I’m sorry it’s part of them you can’t just exorcise them of their demons like that #The demons make them funny #Put that holy water away

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katbrando · 1 year ago

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▹NSFW (minors dni) • 5.1k • diego brando x afab!reader ▹content: modern au, diego is a cheater AND a bottom, pegging, hate sex, slapping, choking, rimming, face-sitting, degradation, spit (lots of spit) ▹synopsis: diego and you have a pretty toxic relationship to begin with, but after you find evidence of him cheating on you while out of town, you decide to put him in his place. [ read on ao3 instead ]

The silence that followed your boyfriend’s phone being gently placed atop the kitchen counter was thick, maybe rivaled only by the sheer bulk of rage that was currently settled on your tense shoulders. Atmospheres like this certainly weren’t uncommon between the two of you, usually spiraling into screaming matches that ended in unresolved tension eventually fizzling out as if nothing had gone wrong at all. In most of these circumstances, it was both of you at fault; differences in opinion and outlook tended to blow up into something far more dramatic than necessary, but that was inevitable when you were dating Diego Brando.

“Darling –” he’d started, of course, by trying to lighten the situation with a term of endearment associated with the numerous romantic dinners he’d taken you on as apology for previous grievances, but you’d stopped him dead in his tracks with a single finger pointed just inches away from his broad nose.

“Do not.” The same finger quickly moved to press directly in the center of his phone, reawakening the screen to show the current source of this particular confrontation, a message from a random number with obvious sexual intention. “Who the hell is texting you right now?”

This, of course, was a rhetorical question. The answer to that question was made clear to you just last night when the exact woman in question had contacted you personally. “Your man is cheating on you.” A single Instagram DM that would’ve otherwise seemed ludicrous, but paired with a damning photo of Diego himself laying amongst someone else’s bed sheets. It was hard to know where to place your anger, but after realizing the message wasn’t meant to taunt, moreso to inform and warn, you’d understood what needed to be done.

“I don’t know, love,” Diego lied through his teeth, his sharp canines poking out as he plastered a smile on his face, “probably a wrong number or something.”

In most cases this would be an understandable possibility. Not only was Diego an exceptionally beautiful man, but his career as a jockey made him well-known within a specific sphere of people. And these people were committed, often cult-like in their actions. Learning to deal with jealousy and uncertainty was part of the package when you signed up to date such an established athlete. Was it worth it? That, you’d been struggling to answer as of late.

Your relationship with Diego certainly wasn’t perfect, it hadn’t been for a while, but the idea of him cheating still seemed inconceivable. As a partner, Diego was ruthless in his loyalty, though it was not lost on you that he’d had a past of sleeping around and taking advantage of his good looks. You’d thought, maybe, that was all in the past, but lately with his uptick in popularity it seemed he was spiraling back into old habits, feeling a bit too untouchable.

“I’m not a dumbass, Diego,” you countered, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as if to try and quell the anger, “so you can stop treating me like one and tell me why the hell some random person is sexting you.”

“I can’t control the fact that people want to share their fantasies with me.” Diego folds his arms across his chest and shrugs, letting out a chuckle of his own that only furthers a boiling point for you. “If my number was leaked again, I’ll get a new one, it’s no problem.”

“You and I both know that’s not what happened here. Get real, or I’ll kick your ass to the curb.”

Something in your tone must have struck something in him, because at those stern words Diego seemed to visibly stiffen. Was that fear in his eyes?

The sound of your own breath became unbearably loud as you watched your boyfriend try to find words, his pillowy lips parted but offering up nothing. Absolutely pathetic.

“Are you cheating on me?”

Even if Diego was a good liar, you’d be able to see through him easier than most others could. And the way his eyes darted to the side told you everything you needed to know before he could even say anything.

“Well, clearly you’ve already made up your mind as far as the answer to that question, so why even bother answering?” He grumbled, his little pout making it hard for you to decide if you’d rather slap him across the face or kiss him so hard you both forget this entire situation.

“I’m taking that as a yes.” You took his phone in your hand and tried to decide what to do with it, finally resolving to chuck it at the floor, letting it land with a thump on his foot. “I have proof either way so you’d be an idiot to try and argue with me.”

Diego’s stare immediately dropped to the floor, his fingers drumming nervously across the surface of his bicep as he looked at his phone. It beeped again, another notification flashing across the screen, but he didn’t pick it up.

“So is that it, then?” He finally murmured after several seconds of silence. “Are you going to scold me? Kick me out?”

“Are you not going to apologize?” You scoffed, taking a couple steps closer to him, tone threatening. “You’re a real piece of work, Brando.”

“Love, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the difficulty that comes with being in the spotlight.” Diego started, and you knew exactly what frustrating turn he was about to take. “If I turned away every single person who approached me, anyone who wanted a piece of me, the media would make me out to be a bloody prick. Do you know how hard it is to maintain a balance of charm and disinterest? When your career depends on it?”

“You are a bloody prick!” You shouted in response, jamming a finger against his chest before shoving at his shoulder. “Since when does your career require you to sleep with random people when you’re in a relationship?”

Visibly trying to recover from the sudden action of being shoved, Diego met your sharp stare again with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. His nostrils flared, and it wasn’t immediately clear if that was a sign of his own rage bubbling up or something more carnal. Either way, he stayed silent, his demeanor practically begging for more.

“Tell me you aren’t happy, then, go ahead.” Your provocation continued as you got closer to him, shoving him with both hands this time. He briefly stumbled back but remained stock still. “I can dump you right now and you can go get your dick wet with whoever the fuck you want, your choice.”

“I don’t want that,” Diego grumbled, narrowing his eyes, “I made a mistake.”

“A mistake!” You echo, laughing again at the absurdity of Diego’s entire reasoning. “Do you understand how pathetic you look right now?”

“Throw me out, then, go ahead. Clearly you’re not willing to have a discussion about this.”

“There’s no discussion to be had, Diego. And throwing you out would be way too easy.” You pause to take a deep breath, your voice lowering significantly. “Maybe I should just beat the shit out of you and teach you a goddamn lesson.”

Diego gulps, his breath noticeably hitches. “Why don’t you, then?”

“Because I know you, I know that’s what you want me to do.”

Diego’s lips quirk up into a smirk, just barely, and that action alone makes your mind up even before he replies in a smarmy voice.

“Then aren’t we both on the same page?”

A slap reverberates through the quaint space of your shared apartment, Diego’s hand immediately coming up to rest against the reddening skin of his cheek. You take in the sight of his eyes blown wide and his mouth parted in shock for mere seconds before you close the distance with a bruising kiss. Nothing about it is gentle, your teeth dig into his lip as a frustrated growl spills into his mouth, and though Diego does his best to assert dominance with his tongue you put up a good fight as both your hands shove at his shoulders again.

With his back now pressed tightly against the wall, Diego attempts to part for breath but he loses the battle as you firmly grip his chin in your hand, forcing him to keep kissing you. You only allow him the luxury of breath once your other hand is grasping a fistfull of his hair, effectively holding his head in place even as you pull away.

“I can’t stand you,” you mutter, squeezing his chin tighter, digging your nails into his skin, “maybe the media should know that you’re a cheating scumbag.”

The fear that flashes in Diego’s eyes at that threat further fuels your rage; of course he’s more concerned about his reputation than the state of your relationship.

“That –” he starts, whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as you spit directly into his mouth.

“Stop talking, for the love of god.” Your demand is punctuated with another tug on his hair as he clearly savors the feeling and taste of your own saliva settling on his tongue.

To the public, Diego Brando is a shining example of pride and dominance in the world of horse racing, even his small stature is something he’s looked up to for. Something you’ve always taken satisfaction in has been your ability to render that side of Diego completely powerless, knowing the exact words and actions that have the capacity to bring him to his knees with his eyes glazed over in desperation. That is the Diego you fell in love with, and he’s the one who’s currently staring at you as if you’re the end-all and be-all.

Cheater or not, you know in your heart that he’ll always come running back to you with his tail tucked between his legs, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t going to make him pay for this mistake. By the time you’re done with him, your name will be the only thing he remembers how to say.

In a series of exasperated movements, Diego allows you to clap a hand across the nape of his neck and shove him towards your bedroom, his hands awkwardly hovering in the air as if even accidentally touching you will earn him capital punishment. “Pants off.” You demand, admittedly a little charmed by the way he stumbles backwards against the bed and begins fumbling with his belt.

As you dig through the nightstand, you can feel Diego’s eyes boring into you. By the time his pants and underwear are thoughtlessly discarded onto the floor you’ve located the tools for further punishment, tossing them onto the mattress just inches away from where Diego is sitting. It’s cute the way he glances over at his favorite dildo before staring at you again with bated breath, but he’ll have to be patient. And patience is something he’s not very good at.

“Do not touch yourself.” You move to stand in front of him, your legs on either side of his as they dangle off the side of the bed. When his hand hovers over your waist you give it a firm swat. “Or me. Understood?”

“Yes, love,” he mutters, breathy and desperate, both his hands falling into his lap.

You refrain from demanding he not use pet names, seeing as the way they roll off his tongue just makes him sound even more pathetic. Anger rushes through you again as you imagine whether or not he used the same words when he cheated. Inevitably, he must have, it’s part of his undeniable charm. You don’t voice this frustration, but you grip his chin in your hand again and give his head a firm shake.

“I won’t hesitate to toss you out the door, butt ass naked, if you don’t obey what I ask of you tonight.” A pause. “Understood?”

“Yes, love,” he repeats in the exact same lust-soaked cadence, eyes already glazed over with desire.

Your eyes search his face for a moment, finding no hint of foul play nor anything but obedience. Only then do you give a single nod and step backwards to continue your demands. “Get on your hands and knees.”

Diego obeys without hesitation, positioning himself so that his ass is fully presented to you and his face is resting against the sheets, turned just enough to continue watching your every move. Even just the sight of you looking at him in such a lewd position is enough to make him groan and shimmy his hips, though just barely. He likely knows that playing it up and egging you on might be pushing it too far.

For a moment you take in the sight of him, both with intent to test his patience and to appreciate the view. Diego has a nice, plump ass, thanks to his career as a jockey. It’s always been one of his greatest assets, and unfortunately he’s keenly aware of that. Currently a pale ivory, dotted sparsely with freckles, but it’ll look much nicer when it’s beet red and sore. Your eyes travel from the cleft of his ass, past his taint, down to where his cock hangs, and when it twitches under your stare you roll your eyes.

“You’re such a slut,” you mumble, stepping closer and dragging one hand along the underside of his right thigh, “you know that?”

Diego doesn’t reply, just keeps staring at you with those hazy cerulean eyes as if he’ll die if you don’t keep talking down to him. Not responding to the question earns him a spank, swift and harsh and underhanded against his right cheek. He immediately hisses in pain and grips the sheets with both hands, the skin of his ass already reddening to match the flush across his face.

“I ask a question, you answer.” You give the same spot a gentle caress before spanking him again.

“I’m a slut,” Diego groans, “I know.”

“That’s why you can’t stand the idea of settling down and being an obedient boyfriend, hm?” Another spank, another grunt spills from Diego’s mouth. “You just had to go fuck someone else, even though I’m right here. You’re so pathetic.”

“She’s nothing like you,” Diego attempts to wiggle himself out of the guilt, “I didn’t even cum.”

You know that’s a lie. Diego’s so easy you can make him climax just by looking at him a certain way, and you know this from experience. As much as you’d love to consider this a special skill that only you’re capable of, you know better than that. Give Diego two minutes with someone willing to suck him off and he’s toast.

“Don’t lie to me, I doubt you even lasted five minutes with her.”

Diego chances a laugh, weak and breathlessly, and you take the opportunity to give him several more spanks, this time alternating cheeks until they’re both turning beet red. Each motion is partnered with a firmly spoken and degrading name, driving him further and further into desperation. His whole body is shaking by the time you take a break, observing the entirety of his backside and noting that he’s already hard.

“If you cum without me telling you it’s okay, I’ll toss you out the window.” It’s a threat you obviously wouldn’t seriously follow through on, but Diego’s expression tells you that he’s taking it completely seriously anyway. You’ve never seen him grasp the bedsheets so tightly.

“Yes, love,” he breathes, thighs twitching, “I’ll be good.”

“You’re nowhere close to being ‘good’, not right now,” you scoff, placing a hand on each of his cheeks and digging your nails into the warm, rosy skin, “just do what I say and I’ll think about calling you ‘good’.”

Diego says nothing, but whines desperately at the feeling of you gradually spreading his cheeks, his hole puckering as soon as your eyes hungrily trace over it. You lean closer to let a thick trail of spit fall from your lips, landing directly above his entrance and rolling downwards before your tongue meets it and evenly distributes it across the surface of his sensitive skin. He takes a shaky breath, music to your ears as you languidly lick up from his taint and press a kiss to his hole.

One thing you know for certain is that no other woman gets to do this with him; Diego’s flings are consistent in that he’s always topping, quickly getting off and putting no feeling into what he’s doing, never anything as intimate and drawn out as this. In a sense, yes, putting him down and having your way with him is meant to be a punishment. It’s also serving as a reminder that nobody else in the world knows how to make him feel like this, not like you can.

“Fuck –” Diego whimpers as soon as your tongue delves into his depths, your hands spreading him further and further. You won’t scold him for crying out, not when it makes him sound so feeble.

“You like that?” Your breath fans across his ass as you whisper, and when you lay your tongue flat against his hole again and give him another spank he fights to hold himself up. “You’re filthy.”

“S’good…” his voice is barely audible, his eyes rolling back with every stroke and prod of your tongue.

“Why would you ever fuck anyone else when you can have this?” One of your hands slides across his cheek, pointer finger meeting where your mouth currently hovers and dragging teasingly against his saliva-soaked asshole. “Stupid whore.” You punctuate the insult with another glob of spit landing in the same spot.

“Never again,” Diego weakly insists, pressing his ass further back, aching for more attention, “I only need you.”

That statement, clearly dripping with need, makes you roll your eyes again.

“Y’know, you’re more appealing when you keep your mouth shut.” His hole eagerly takes your finger to the first knuckle, even as you slowly pump it and sink increasingly deeper. His whole body is shaking and his mouth is hanging open, drool coating the sheets where his head rests. Again he offers no response, obediently letting nothing fall from his lips besides hushed sounds of pleasure.

For a while, you fuck him with your fingers, letting your middle join the first and curling to meet the spot you know will drive him further and further to the edge. It’s a true test of his self-control, and honestly you’re impressed by his ability to keep himself from falling apart. Perhaps he has learned his lesson. As soon as he easily takes three of your digits without any hesitation, you decide to move on, but as soon as your fingers leave him he nearly collapses helplessly.

“Please –” he starts as soon as he hears the sound of you removing your bottoms and fiddling with the harness you’d previously pulled from the nightstand. You give his ass another smack as a wordless warning.

As if you’d have any intention of stopping at this point; you’re enjoying yourself far too much for him to ruin it. As soon as you’re fully strapped, you climb atop the mattress to settle behind him.

Further testing his obedience, you forgo the lube and instead drag your strap against the cleft of his ass, letting your spit coat its surface as you tease him. Diego’s hips move to meet the actions, greedy for more as he fights to remain silent. And it’s a fight he’s steadily losing, seeing as he keeps whimpering pleas that aren’t lost on your ears.

Just to play with him, you reach around to blindly locate his cock, cupping his balls and feeling a rush of power when he gives a guttural, shocked moan at the sensation. Eyes blown wide again, he refocuses his stare on you and gives you one of the most pitiful looks you’re ever seen.

“What?” You tease him, flicking his tip and returning both hands to spread his ass. “Go ahead, beg me for it.”

“P-please –” Diego starts, choking on another moan; you can hear his nails puncturing the sheets. “Fuck me, please.”

“Why should I? You think you really deserve that?”

At that, Diego groans with irritation, his entire body heaving as he takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down. Always so huffy when he doesn’t get his way, but lucky for him he won’t have to wait much longer.

Another thick glob of spit leaves your mouth, landing just above your strap and making gliding between his ass an easier process. For good measure, you give the toy a few strokes to distribute the moisture before pressing its tip against his hole. Diego’s thighs twitch and he holds his breath, waiting for you to fill him up.

“Before I fuck you,” you lean down, much to his dismay, to whisper against the space between his shoulder blades, “I need you to tell me what a filthy cheating slut you are. Tell me what you did.”

Diego fists his hands further into the sheets and grits his teeth. From this angle he can’t quite make direct eye contact, but his eyes still desperately try to look back at you as he finally mutters admittance.

“She gave me a handjob, sucked me off a little, that’s all,” he says, his cheeks further reddening with shame, “nothing more, I promise, love.”

In such a vulnerable and brainless state, it would be unlikely of him to lie. And honestly, you trust him, but it still doesn’t make the entire thing any less enraging.

“Why did you do it?”

“Was lonely,” he whines, shutting his eyes, “while traveling, out of town…”

“You were lonely?” You scoff, palm meeting his ass again, making sure his skin stays just as sensitive and rosy. “That’s a pitiful excuse.”

“You weren’t there, love, if you had been, I –”

“Enough, be quiet.” His excuses are giving you a headache, so you straighten up again and distribute more spit to his asshole until you think he’s ready to take you. Whether he is or not, he’s going to get his ass pounded.

Diego gives a short yelp as soon as you push into him, his hole swallowing up the entire tip and eagerly stretching to accommodate as you sink further, slowly. It’s a beautiful sight, his full, rosy ass being fucked by your strap, his thighs twitching and his upper half shaking at the feeling of being filled by you. You reach forward to brush any hair out of his face and gather it up in your fist, tugging his head to the side so he can make better eye contact with you.

“You look so pathetic right now, Diego,” you coo, your hips finally connecting with his ass as he takes the entirety of your strap with a shaky breath. “Imagine if your fans saw you like this. Face down, drooling and whining, ass being fucked by your girlfriend.”

Diego shivers and offers no reply, he’s too close to falling apart and you’d rather him say nothing anyway. You imagine his cock is probably desperately leaking right now, begging to be touched, but he stays vigilant with his hands still buried in the sheets beneath him.

To his credit, Diego takes it like the champ, letting you fuck him hard and steadily faster, moving his body to meet yours and creating a satisfying smack sound with every snap of your hips. At some point the sight of his blissed-out expression is a bit too much for you to bear, so you lean down and press your lips to his shoulder blade as you continue moving in and out of him. Your kisses are fleeting and short-lived, teeth sinking into the supple skin and biting down hard. Diego gasps as you taste blood on your tongue, he knows you’re going to leave a nasty mark.

When you pull back and see the evidence of your actions, you huff a satisfied laugh and move to a new untouched spot. As you continue marking him, your hand finally gives his cock the attention it so desperately wants, his hips not knowing which way to move between your fist pumping his shaft and your strap still fucking up into him. There’s no way he’s going to last very much longer, based on the whimpers and obscenities that keep breathlessly spilling from his mouth.

“I’m –” he warns, and you immediately cease all contact, sitting up straight again and quickly unsheathing yourself. Diego looks up at you as if you’ve just committed the unholiest of crimes, and to him that must be exactly how it feels.

“Not yet, you’re not.” You fold your arms across your chest and eye him, trying to decide how to make his life even more difficult. “Lay down, on your back.”

Diego, face flushed and body glistening with sweat, gives you a pained look before huffing and obeying, his head hitting the pillow and his hands landing just inches away from his leaking cock. It almost looks like he might cry as he watches you remove your harness and toss it to the foot of the mattress.

“Love, please –” he whines, writhing slightly against the sheets, his body aching for you, for anything you’d be willing to give him.

“You’re going to put that filthy mouth of yours to good use, for once.” He watches closely as you climb atop the bed again, straddling his upper half, your pussy dangerously close to his face.

You prod at his mouth with your thumb and he allows it to enter and press firmly against the surface of his tongue. He sucks on the digit, eyes half-lidded and staring up into yours. You utter a request for him to open, sliding the pad of your thumb across his lower lip before leaning down and spitting directly into his mouth again. Diego immediately moans and without looking you can feel his hips lifting, as if trying to fuck up into the air.

“Taste good?” You ask, giving his cheek a little slap as soon as he groans confirmation. “This’ll taste even better.”

Diego already knows what you’re doing, but he refrains from touching you as you turn around, sitting directly against his face with your palms resting against his chest. You hadn’t realized just how wet you’d gotten from fucking him, and his tongue eagerly laps up against you to further coat your entrance with moisture. His ministrations are less enthusiastic than usual, so you remind him who’s boss with a pinch to his nipple.

“Eat up, Diego, this might be the last time you ever get to do this.” The threat draws a noise from out of his throat, muffled by your body pressed tight against his face. “Ungrateful bitch.”

Diego’s tongue delves deep between your folds, sliding out only to toy with your clit and further wet the surface of your cunt. The sounds he’s making are obscene, one glance down at him and you can see a sheen of spit and juices coating his chin. His breath comes in gasps, almost as if he’s forgetting to breathe amidst the sheer pleasure of eating you out. Your eyes trail down from his chin to the length of his throat, watching his adam’s apple move as his mouth continues working.

As soon as your palm presses against his throat, Diego’s body reacts with brief shock but he doesn’t stop you. Gradually, you curl your hand around its surface, squeezing and immediately sensing the tension in his ministrations. His cock twitches against his abdomen as you continue choking him, you’re almost certain that one touch to his tip would push him overboard.

After a few seconds, Diego chokes against you, his mouth faltering and sputtering as he continues trying to please you despite lack of oxygen. Eventually you take pity on him, releasing his throat and grinding down harder against his face as he gasps for breath. Your own need is starting to overwhelm you, making you lay down against his torso and finally wrap a hand around his cock. Diego’s hips buck upwards as you touch him, and you allow him to fuck into your fist as you keep your mouth open and ready for his inevitable release. The aggression and enthusiasm with which he’s devouring you is driving you to your own precipice, your breath becoming shaky and labored.

Your climaxes are nearly simultaneous, your walls tightening around his tongue as he continues sucking at your clit, his cum spilling out between your lips and coating your chin. He makes no action to move you from off of him, but as soon as the last bit of his cum has been squeezed out onto your tongue you quickly flip around again, leaning down to kiss him with as much force as you did earlier.

The kiss is messy, his tongue lapping up at his own release, letting it mingle amongst your shared spit. When you part for breath you offer him no time to recover before spitting again, making certain that every last bit of his filth is resting in his mouth and not yours.

“Swallow.” You weakly command, only satisfied when Diego does so, opening his mouth to prove he’s obeyed. “Disgusting.”

Boneless, Diego lays there, staring up at you through hazy half-lidded eyes. And still, his hands stay at his sides, not once touching you, just as you’d demanded. You figure that earns him at least a little bit of praise.

“See? This is what happens when you’re a good boy.” You give his cheek another light smack, watching as his head rolls weakly to the side with the force of it. “Now get out.”

It takes a moment for the words to really hit him, but once you’ve climbed off the bed and started putting your underwear back on, Diego makes a pathetic little noise and pouts.

“‘Get out’?”

“Yeah, you heard me.” You raise an eyebrow, picking up his own boxer briefs and tossing them at his head. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“I… wh –” Diego sputters, voice briefly muffled by his underwear smacking him in the face. “Love, I thought –”

“If you think I’ve forgiven you then you’re sorely mistaken.” You laugh triumphantly, watching as he sulks and pulls his clothes back on. “That ass is gonna have to get fucked a few more times before I even think about letting you off the hook.”

Diego’s pout briefly shifts to an obnoxious smirk. “Promise?”

“Ugh,” you loudly groan, clapping both hands against his shoulders and guiding him out of the bedroom. “Enough. Goodnight.”

You quickly shut the bedroom door as soon as he’s out, hearing him chuckle and mutter a declaration of love. Biting back a smile, you take a deep breath and begin cleaning up.

Unfortunately, you love him too.

#diego brando x reader #jjba x reader #my writing #diego brando #this was so fun to write LOLLLLLL

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porschesbabydaddy · 2 years ago

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Very Important and Very Scientific Kinnporsche Driving Skills Research

As you all know, my number one priority during this rewatch was to answer the burning question that I’m sure we all have on our minds: which of these bitches can drive? Below are the results of that research, and also my own personal opinions regarding driving skills and abilities.

Characters who have canonical driving evidence

Kinn (seen driving in eps 5 and 12)

Vegas (seen driving a motorcycle in multiple eps)

Kim (seen driving in ep 13)

Porsche (seen driving a motorcycle in multiple eps)

Big ( seen driving a motorcycle in ep 5)

Ken (seen driving a motorcycle in ep 5)

Chan (presumably drove in ep 12 to bring Korn to Porsche’s house)

Arm (seen driving in ep 3)

Pete (seen driving in ep 5 and seen behind the wheel in ep 6)

Characters with no canonical driving ability evidence

Tankhun

Chay

Pol

Characters who I believe can drive (regardless of canonical evidence), ranked from best to worst

Chan: Shocking no one, I think there are very few things that Daddy Chan can’t do, and do well. He taught the main family boys how to drive, to varying degrees of success

Kim: You think that little control freak is willing to let anyone else drive him around? He took supplementary driving lessons and everything, just because he’s extra like that. Chay thinks he looks incredibly sexy behind the wheel, which is even more of a reason for him to drive as much as possible

Vegas: Vegas has never met a petty skill that he doesn’t have to beat Kinn at. He drives a little recklessly but he has the skills to handle it and I think that’s very sexy of him

Arm: Arm is a very middle of the road driver. He’s not the guy you wanna have behind the wheel if you need to do evasive manoeuvres or fancy tricks, but he’ll get you where you wanna go and really, who could ask for more? If he was my Uber driver I’d give him five stars (and maybe my number idk)

Pete: Pete is an okay driver, but he absolutely hates doing it. Once he leaves the main family you will not catch him behind the wheel of a car, that’s what he has Vegas for

Kinn: Sure, Kinn can drive, but should he? Probably not. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s had to drive himself since he took the road test, and it shows

Big: As with Kinn, being ABLE to drive doesn’t mean he SHOULD drive. His road rage is legendary, and very few people are comfortable being in the car when he is behind the wheel

Characters I believe can’t drive, regardless of canonical evidence

Porsche: Porsche is on this list because while he can handle a motorcycle like a dream, if you try to make him drive a car he will have a panic attack. It’s a combination of Trauma™️ and just a lack of opportunity to drive a car. When he has to be in a car, it’s best that he remains a passenger princess

Chay: When would he ever have the opportunity to learn? Porsche may have offered to teach him to ride his motorcycle, but why bother when he has his Hia to drive him wherever he needs to go

Pol: Personally I think he just never got his license before becoming a bodyguard, and mysteriously avoids having to get one whenever it’s brought up during his evaluations. It’s fine though, that’s what Arm and (pre-coup) Pete are for

Tankhun: Tankhun took his road test at the insistence of his father and then immediately purged all knowledge of how to drive from his brain. Gorgeous gorgeous girls should NEVER have to operate a motor vehicle

Characters who I believe technically can drive, but aren’t allowed to

Ken: Worse road rage than Big, he is only allowed to ride a motorcycle and even then only in extreme circumstances. He is the type to follow you to your destination and beat your ass if you piss him off in traffic

Macau: He got his license and promptly had it confiscated by Vegas within a week. Macau has never met a reckless driving stunt that he didn’t immediately want to try out himself. He thinks speed limits are a gentle suggestion and he isn’t interested in hearing them

#kinnporsche #kprewatch2023 #important scientific research

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multifandomfix · 8 months ago

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Jude Martin Angst Alphabet

A = Anger (what are they like when they’re angry?)

Sister Jude’s anger is intense and unrelenting. She has a sharp tongue and isn’t afraid to raise her voice or use stern words to make her point. Her fury can be intimidating, but it often comes from a place of deep hurt or frustration.

B = Break Up (if they had to, how would they break up with you?)

Sister Jude would maintain control of her emotions, keeping the conversation direct. She would likely explain her reasoning firmly, perhaps even trying to convince herself it’s for the best, but she’d struggle deeply afterward.

C = Cry (how often do they cry? do they cry over little things?)

Jude rarely cries openly, but when she does, it’s over things that strike her deeply, such as moments of personal failure or losing someone close to her. She tries to hold back her tears, seeing them as a weakness, but in private, she may let herself break down.

D = Debt (how do they make it up to you when they’ve done something wrong?)

Jude is deeply remorseful when she knows she’s hurt you. She’ll seek to make amends through actions, perhaps by doing something thoughtful or going out of her way to prove her sincerity. Apologies don’t come easily to her, but when you get them, you know they’re heartfelt.

E = Entrapment (how would they react to you being kidnapped?)

Sister Jude would be consumed with guilt and rage. She’d do everything in her power to help get you back, channeling her anger and fear into action. She’d move heaven and earth to find you, praying fervently for your safety while working to ensure your return.

F = Fear (how badly do they fear losing you? do they fear for you somehow losing them?)

Jude has an intense fear of loss. She worries constantly about losing you, whether through circumstances beyond her control or by driving you away. However, she keeps much of this fear bottled up.

G = Grief (if you were to die, how would they react?)

If you were to die, Sister Jude would be devastated. She’d retreat into herself, blaming herself for not protecting you. Her grief would manifest as anger, guilt, and sorrow, and she’d likely turn to prayer, though it would feel hollow without you.

H = Health (how are they at taking care of themselves?)

Jude often neglects her own health, prioritizing her work or other people over herself. She resorts to her vices of drinking and smoking, and she doesn’t handle stress well, which takes a toll on her physical and mental health.

I = Insensitive (how do they act when they know they’ve said something that upset you?)

If Jude realizes she’s upset you, she’ll initially act defensive, unwilling to admit fault. However, once she calms down and reflects, she’ll feel guilty and try to make it right, though her pride might keep her from directly apologizing at first.

J = Jerk (when can they tell you’re mad at them? do either of you resort to name calling?)

Jude can tell you’re mad by your tone or body language, and she doesn’t take it lightly. She might initially react with stubbornness or sharp words, but she doesn’t resort to name calling unless the argument is particularly heated.

K = Knife (how do they feel about hurting others? physically or emotionally?)

Jude usually regrets causing harm, especially if she lashes out in the moment. She carries guilt for her past actions, and though she can be harsh, it pains her to see the damage she’s done once the heat of the moment passes.

L = Liar (are they a good liar? how often do they lie to you?)

Jude is a skilled liar when she needs to be, but she hates lying to people she loves. If she does lie to you, it’s likely to protect you or hide her vulnerabilities, and she’d feel tremendous guilt about it.

M = Maudlin (how do you cheer them up when they’re feeling sad?)

When Jude is sad, sitting with her, offering words of encouragement, or showing her she’s not alone goes a long way in lifting her spirits.

N = Never (what would they do if they knew they could never be with you?)

If Jude knew she could never be with you, she’d try to push you away for your own good, masking her heartbreak behind a facade of indifference. But in private, she’d hold onto the memory of you in her quiet moments.

O = Oath (what happens when you break a promise? how do they take it?)

Broken promises cut Jude deeply. She values trust and loyalty, so she’d feel hurt and betrayed. While she might lash out initially, she’d eventually withdraw, guarding herself against further disappointment.

P = Pressure (how do they handle stress? how do you help them relax?)

Jude doesn’t handle stress well, often turning to unhealthy coping mechanisms like alcohol. You can help her relax by encouraging her to talk about her feelings, taking her away from stressful environments, or helping her find healthier outlets, of which she’ll initially be averse to, but she’ll work on her issues for you.

Q = Quiet (do they ever give you the silent treatment? how do they react when you give it to them?)

Jude may give you the silent treatment if she’s hurt or angry, using it as a way to process her emotions. If you give her the silent treatment, she’ll grow frustrated and defensive, demanding to know what’s wrong and pushing for a resolution.

R = Rejection (how would they take it if you were to reject them?)

Rejection would crush Jude. She’d likely mask her pain with anger or bitterness, retreating into herself and convincing herself she never deserved you in the first place.

S = Self Doubt (what are they insecure about?)

Jude is deeply insecure about her past mistakes and fears she’s unworthy of love or redemption. These insecurities often manifest in her relationships, making her question if she’s good enough for you.

T = Triangle (what would they do if they were caught in a love triangle with you? would they fight for you or give you up?)

Jude would fight for you, though she’d hate herself for it. She wouldn’t back down easily, but if she felt you’d be happier with someone else, she might reluctantly let you go in the end.

U = Unloved (what would you do to make sure they felt loved?)

To make Jude feel loved, you’d need to show her unwavering support and patience. Small acts of kindness, affirming words, and being there for her during her lowest moments would help her feel secure in your love.

V = Vault (do they keep their emotions sealed tight, or do they let them out openly?)

Jude keeps most of her emotions sealed tight, viewing vulnerability as a weakness. However, in rare moments of trust, she might let her guard down and share her true feelings.

W = Wound (how do they react when you’ve been injured?)

Jude would be frantic and guilt-ridden if you were injured. She’d blame herself for not protecting you and would hover, determined to ensure you’re cared for.

X = X Lovers (what happens when they’re confronted with an ex of yours?)

Jude would act outwardly composed but would feel a surge of jealousy and insecurity. She might make a snide comment or two but would ultimately trust you to reassure her.

Y = Yell (how often do fights occur? how bad do they get?)

Fights with Jude can be frequent, as she’s headstrong and emotionally charged. They can get intense, with raised voices and sharp words, but she cools down eventually and tries to make amends.

Z = Zestless (what happens if you lose that initial spark with them?)

If the spark faded, Jude would try to reignite it. She’d fight to keep the connection alive, but she’d also struggle with self doubt, wondering if she’s the problem.

For anon

Forever Tag: @baubeautyandthegeek, @ghostsunderstoodmysoul, @immyowndefender, @valencethefriendlychangeling, @crimsonwidow666, @rebelbossheart, @thedailyspiritualist, @orangeisnttheonlyfruit, @woman-simp, @aperol-with-izzy, @leonoralessoem, @ellepossum69, @lakita-fisher, @trexsuit, @analuw, @luvlesavyy, @malfoyfeed, @aliciabrower, @sparrowspixie, @imaginationismyworldlypleasure, @og-kxsh-420

Jude Martin: @brienneseveruscalaway, @derry-n, @bluenystic, @peggycarter-steverogers, @mars-rivers, @gothtrash6969, @callsigncrash, @somelonelywriter, @babygirlscout

#jude martin #jude martin angst alphabet #jude martin x reader #sister jude #sister jude angst alphabet #sister jude x reader #ahs #ahs asylum #request #send requests #requests open

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ibijau · 7 months ago

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Papa Mia pt6 / On A03

Nie Fuyun had run to the training grounds to blow off some steam. It was the way almost everyone in the Nie sect was taught to deal with intense emotions. She had even seen Nie Huaisang come there with his sabre once or twice, when she was still a young child, during that short period between his brother’s death and his decision to present himself as more useless than he was.

Not that Nie Fuyun wanted to think about him, she told herself, slicing a target in two with one rageful strike. Not about him, and certainly not about the choices he’d made at that time, or at any other time, in fact, because Nie Huaisang had never done anything right in his life, and she hated him, and…

Another target perished before her sabre.

It was not the way to do this, Nie Fuyun knew. They were trained to focus on their movement as a way to escape anger. What she did was just reckless destruction, something expected only of little children, not nearly adult disciples. She would be scolded for this later, except… except she wouldn’t, because there wouldn’t be a later for her, not in the Nie sect anyway. She was going to be sent away, because the only relative she had in this world didn’t want her, because he’d rather see her leave than claim her as his own blood.

Not that she wanted to be family with him. Not anymore. Not after the way he’d spoken to her.

What she wanted, instead…

What he wanted…

A third target was destroyed. This time, her vandalism was met with some polite applause coming from the edge of the training ground. Nie Fuyun turned around, hand clenched on her sabre, and was surprised to find sect leader Lan watching her with a quiet smile.

“Nie guniang is truly as impressive as I had heard,” he said. “No wonder Sizhui and Jingyi are always excited when they get a chance to go on a Night Hunt with you.”

“Is Lan zongzhu making fun of me?” Nie Fuyun asked

Feeling it was rude to talk over a distance, she put away her weapon and went to join him.

“Are you so rarely complimented that hearing praise feels like a hidden insult?” Lan Xichen retorted with concern when she reached him. “I may have a word to your sect leader about that, I would have expected better of him.”

“Didn’t you say before you wouldn’t dare talk to him?” Nie Fuyun snapped.

Lan Xichen did not reply, nor did he react to that attack. Still Nie Fuyun had the feeling he was hurt by that reminder. She really just couldn’t say anything right that day, could she?

“Apologies to Zewu-jun, that was very rude of me,” she mumbled with a bow. “I’m… not really fit for company today.”

“A wedding is a stressful affair,” Lan Xichen agreed. “Especially in circumstances such as these. I’m sure those who love you will know not to take your words to heart.”

“Zewu-Jun is kind to say this, but I doubt it’ll be that easy. It doesn’t matter, though. After tomorrow, I’m unlikely to ever come here again.”

Lan Xichen tilted his head, an amused expression on his face.

“Nie guniang, do you expect your new husband to be so tyrannical that he would not let you visit home? I have met him only once, but he did not give me the impression he was that sort of person.”

Nie Fuyun shook her head, a little amused too in spite of herself at the idea of Ouyang Zizhen trying to control her.

“Zizhen isn’t like that, I don’t think,” she agreed. “If I thought he was, I’d have begged Nie zongzhu to prevent this marriage. But what does it matter whether he’d let me come, when I would be unwelcome anyway?”

“Nie zongzhu is a man of strong emotions,” Lan Xichen replied. “This day is stressful for him too, especially as he cares so much about you. Don’t take his anger to heart. He’s truly sorry for the things he said.”

“But not so sorry he came to apologise!”

“He’s never been particularly good at that,” Lan Xichen noted with exasperated fondness. “A family trait, sadly. His brother had the same fault, and I’ve heard their father was worse than either of them. Really, I should have questioned this invitation to your wedding more,” he added with a soft laugh. “It would have been wildly out of character for Nie Huaisang to reach out this way, yet I wanted to see him too much to think clearly. But I have known him longer than you, and I can confidently say that his difficulties in apologising doesn’t mean he can’t be devoured with guilt when he does or says something wrong. He’s only unforgiving to those he truly hates, and to himself.”

“Well, he can feel bad a little longer, as far as I’m concerned,” Nie Fuyun announced. “I think he deserves it.”

“Hm. I can imagine you have reasons to be angry at him,” Lan Xichen said with a sad smile. “Considering what great secrets he kept from you…”

Nie Fuyun gasped, her cheeks heating up.

“You knew?”

Lan Xichen’s smile grew sadder as he nodded. He looked at her as if trying to see something through her.

“I realised once you started growing up,” he explained. “The way you look, your personality… I don't know why Nie Mingjue didn't marry whoever your mother was, but there is no denying the connection.”

Nie Fuyun stared at him, shocked that he’d gotten things almost right, and yet completely wrong. It would have been easy to correct him, but she found herself unwilling to do so. She couldn't betray Nie Huaisang again by revealing the truth to a man who had hurt him so intimately, then helped his worst enemy. But to be seen as related to her father at all, to have someone speak to her like this…

“How long have you… known?”

“Not quite as long as I should have, considering I did know Mingjue as a child,” Lan Xichen confessed. “Not until I heard that you were going on Night Hunts alone or with adults… Mingjue was the same, before he had to become sect leader. You are very much like him in looks as well, but you have Huaisang's manners and grace. No surprise, when he had such a part in raising you.”

Although a little pleased to hear she resembled her relatives, Nie Fuyun pouted.

“The elders say I am wilful and disregard rules, unlike the late Nie zongzhu. They always give him as an example.”

“Then the Nie elders forget that it is a trait most of their leaders have possessed in their youth,” Lan Xichen replied with a smile. “Mingjue had plenty of arguments with other disciples, with sect elders, even with his own father, most of all with his brother. He could also be mischievous in his own way… but then his father died, and he lost that part of himself. As for Mingjue and Huaisang’s father, I've heard fearsome tales about his youth. But elders like to forget that those who have left us were as imperfect as those who survive.”

“I didn't know that,” Nie Fuyun whispered. “It's my family, and I know almost nothing.”

With some hesitation, Lan Xichen slowly patted her shoulder. Against her better judgement, Nie Fuyun appreciated it, although it felt too little. She wanted to be hugged, although not by that man next to her. She wanted her father to hold her in his arms and tell her he was sorry for everything denied to her.

“I imagine it can't be easy on you,” Lan Xichen told her.

“It's not!” Nie Fuyun agreed, anger seizing her again. “And Nie zongzhu is just so stubborn about it, so sure he did the right thing! And I know he didn't have much of a choice, but… But it doesn't mean it didn't hurt me!”

“I would have expected better of him,” Lan Xichen agreed, much to Nie Fuyun's shock. “He ought to have known what those secrets do to a person, both from his own experience, and from mine.”

“Yours?”

“It might surprise you to learn this, but Nie zongzhu and I used to be excellent friends,” Lan Xichen explained with a sorrowful smile. “I confided in him things I told no one else, except my sworn brothers. I told him things I didn't even tell them, in fact. There was a time we understood each other so perfectly that… But I won't bore you with irrelevant details. All you need to know is that in my childhood, the adults caring for me kept many secrets from me. About my parents, my mother in particular… When she died, I wasn’t told for weeks. There were other things too… And Nie Huaisang knows how much it affected my brother and I to grow up with so much hidden from us.”

“So he should have known better!” Nie Fuyun exclaimed.

It was one thing for Nie Huaisang to have made terrible choices if he really hadn’t understood what he was putting her through. But if he’d had reasons to know, if he’d been given other examples of what such heavy secrets could do to someone…

Lan Xichen nodded, his eyes lost in the distance.

“It would be the logical conclusion. But I know he never meant to hurt you. I can doubt many things about Nie Huaisang, but not how dear you are to him. He hid it well enough from others, but I know him better than most,” Lan Xichen said, unable to keep pain out of his voice. “I always thought he favoured you, and wondered why he tried to hide it. I figured he had his reasons, but never dared to ask what they might be. And besides… Even though I know the weight of secrets on a developing young soul, I too hid things from a child in my care, when I had to make that choice.”

Taken aback by that confession, Nie Fuyun could only glare at him.

“But you said…”

“Sometimes, you cannot do the right thing,” Lan Xichen remarked with a sigh. “You can only do the least terrible one, and hope you did not choose the wrong option. At least, it is what I believe, and I used to think others also believed it. I've had reasons to doubt myself in recent years.”

“So you're saying he did his best and I must forgive him.”

It didn’t sound right to Nie Fuyun. Perhaps it didn’t sound right to Lan Xichen either, because he shook his head.

“Demanding forgiveness from others doesn't work,” he said. “This, too, I learned the hard way. I would not dare make demands of you, but I think it is good for you to consider other points of view on this situation.”

Nie Fuyun huffed, frustrated. She would have preferred it if Lan Xichen had told her that Nie Huaisang had been entirely wrong. Actually, him saying that he thought Nie Huaisang had been right would have been a better option as well. Then she could have dismissed both of them as cruel old men who didn’t understand her feelings. Instead, Lan Xichen was asking her to nuance her judgement, something she wasn’t in the mood for.

“He should have just sent me away,” she announced, trying to get angry again.

“It would have been a safer choice,” Lan Xichen agreed, surprising her again. “Being near him put you at risk, especially if he slipped and revealed too much of his affection for you. Considering his other actions, I believe Nie Huaisang thought of that. And yet he kept you with him, close to him, where he could watch you grow up, even if he could never approach you as freely as he must have wanted.”

“He was selfish,” Nie Fuyun complained.

“Of course. Love can make people selfish. It makes it hard to let go. I know that even I…”

Lan Xichen didn't finish his sentence. He didn't have to. Nie Fuyun remembered those tear stained entries in Nie Huaisang’s diary.

“How come you aren't friends with Nie zongzhu anymore?” she asked.

This earned her a surprised look.

“Considering what happened with the late Jin zongzhu, I think you can imagine…”

“I meant before that,” Nie Fuyun corrected. “You said you used to be so close, but by the time the murder of Nie zongzhu's brother was revealed, you already hadn’t been friends for a long while, right?”

“You are an observant girl,” Lan Xichen noted, making it sound almost like a reproach. “If I'm honest, I'm still not sure what I did wrong at that time. I wish I understood. Whatever mistake I made at that time, it is my greatest regret. But I have learned to live with it. Just as Nie zongzhu had to live with his regrets about never giving you the family he must have wanted to offer. After all, we all saw what lengths he went to for his brother's sake. We all know how important family is to him, even if he isn't always good at showing it. Mingjue was the same. I fear that was passed down to you as well, but you are still young enough you could correct that fault.”

“So you do think I should forgive him!” Nie Fuyun accused, only to find the advice failed to make her as angry as she wished to be.

“I think it is a choice you must make for yourself,” Lan Xichen corrected. “But when you try to make it, you must remember he loves you, and wonder if you love him as well.”

Startled, Nie Fuyun had to take a moment before she could answer. She wanted to say that she hated that man who didn’t even want to be her father. But that was just her anger speaking. Nie Huaisang had not treated her as well as she had deserved, but she suspected he had done as much for her as he thought he could get away with. She’d never been miserable, he wouldn’t have allowed it. Until she’d found out what had been hidden from her, she’d even been fairly happy with her life. It wasn’t something every nobody orphan taken in by a sect could say.

And even if he’d been too cowardly to protect her when this wedding was decided, Nie Huaisang had still tried to make things better for her. Nie Fuyun knew he’d given her a better dowry than some nameless disciple should have been granted. And he’d offered her his mother’s wedding veil, he’d organised such a grand wedding for her… Nie Huaisang had done things all wrong, but he’d done it wrong with enough love that she couldn’t be unmoved.

“I guess I do love him,” she grumbled. “But he doesn't make it easy!”

“He certainly doesn't,” Lan Xichen agreed with a joyless laugh. “And yet I've found it impossible not to care for him. Some people are like that.”

Even though he'd clearly been in the wrong regarding their terrible breakup, Nie Fuyun couldn't help pitying Lan Xichen a little. It was a little pathetic of him if he still loved Nie Huaisang after all this time, after everything that had happened between them, around them. It was made worse by the knowledge Nie Huaisang still carried resentment toward him, meaning Nie Fuyun couldn't even offer any comforting words. ‘He did not hate you enough to kill you’ probably wouldn’t sound as positive to Lan Xichen as she would mean it to be. And yet, she knew it was no small thing for Lan Xichen to have survived Nie Huaisang’s rage relatively unscathed. He hadn’t exactly been as careful with other people’s lives during that period. Others had died or been wounded, yet Lan Xichen had come out unscathed and with his reputation preserved because he'd been the one to ultimately kill the great villain.

But none of that was her problem. She couldn’t solve the mess that laid between these two grown men, not when they’d allowed it to linger for nearly two decades.

“Zewu-Jun, thank you for taking the time to talk to me right now,” Nie Fuyun said. “I’m less angry now that I spoke about all of this.”

“Just like your father and uncle,” Lan Xichen sighed, wistful. “I am happy if I was of use. Talking to you reminded me of… better days.”

Nie Fuyun stared at him. How frequent had Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue been, exactly, that Lan Xichen could feel nostalgia over arguments? When the elders spoke about Nie Mingjue, he became almost inhumanly virtuous, so perfect that the younger disciples sometimes wondered if he’d really existed. As for Nie Huaisang… he was silly and dramatic, but also the type of person who thoroughly avoided conflicts.

“Were Nie zongzhu and his brother really so bad?” Nie Fuyun asked, too shocked to restrain her curiosity.

“That bad and worse,” Lan Xichen assured her. “But don’t go thinking it was always awful between them. Some people only remember their arguments, but I also remember the love they shared. I can tell you about Da-ge someday, if you wish. I hope to be able to give you a less biased idea of him than the Nie elders.”

“Would you tell me about… about Nie zongzhu, too?”

Lan Xichen shot her a surprised look. After some hesitation, he shook his head.

“It is not my place to talk about Nie Huaisang. I don’t think he would like that. Not when I’m not even allowed to talk to him, much as I wish to do so.”

For a brief moment his self control cracked, and true anguish showed on his face. In the blink of an eye Lan Xichen’s expression returned to a polite mask, but it was too late. In spite of herself, Nie Fuyun was starting to truly pity him. And if he was so sad about this, maybe there had been a misunderstanding after all, like Lan Sizhui and Ouyang Zizhen had suggested. Earlier, she’d been certain that Nie Huaisang had been wronged, but it really was odd for Lan Xichen to have purposefully hurt him so much if he cared that deeply.

“Considering his personality,” Nie Fuyun carefully said, “do you really think that waiting for him to take the first step will work for you? You’ve said it’s not something he normally does…”

“You’re probably right,” Lan Xichen admitted. “But forcing the issue would be just as bad. When he doesn't want to do something, Nie zongzhu can become… creatively avoidant.”

Nie Fuyun grimaced, knowing this too well. Nobody could avoid paperwork like Nie Huaisang, and he was never around when annoying visitors came to the Unclean Realm.

“But then… Isn't there also a chance he won't avoid the conversation?” she asked. “If you talk to him and he complains but doesn't leave, it'll mean he also wanted to talk, won't it? It's not really my place to say that, but… I think you should try.”

“Knowing Nie Huaisang as I do…”

“With all due respect,” Nie Fuyun cut him, “do you really know him as well as you think?”

Lan Xichen stared at her for a moment, with the startled expression of a man unused to interruptions. But the surprise receded, and he smiled again.

“Ah, for this too you are like Mingjue,” he remarked. “Very direct. Too direct, some might say, but I always counted it as a quality.”

Nie Fuyun frowned. It was natural for Lan Xichen to compare her to who he thought was her father, but it suddenly irritated her.

Would Nie Huaisang have recognised her already, had she been more like him instead of his brother? Lan Xichen could call Nie Mingjue's frankness a quality all he liked, Nie Fuyun had heard enough gossip to know it was her uncle's determination to speak his mind that had brought him deadly enemies. If she was so much like him, Nie Huaisang may have thought her unqualified to lead the sect after him, since she might also make powerful enemies. If she’d been quieter, if she’d been meek like other girls…

“Perhaps you are right about Nie zongzhu,” Lan Xichen mused, unaware of her inner turmoil. “In the past, I gave up too easily when he was angry at me. But certain conversations must be had.”

He paused, and laughed sadly.

“I came here to comfort and advise you, but I fear instead you were the one telling me what to do,” he remarked.

“You also gave me things to think about,” Nie Fuyun replied. “Even if I still think he acted wrong, I no longer want to stay angry at Nie zongzhu. After all, he's my only family.”

And it would remain that way, she suspected. None of her possible fathers awakened any particular sense of kinship in her, so she might never find out who sired her. She didn't mind that as much now. Wasn't it already a lot to have forced Nie Huaisang to admit she was his child? And who knew, living apart might make some things easier. Maybe next time they met, Nie Huaisang would find it easier to talk, while with enough time to accept what she knew, Nie Fuyun might not get angry as easily.

The way everything had happened wasn’t ideal, but in the end it might all work out.

#mo dao zu shi #mdzs #nie huaisang #lan xichen #mamma mia au #xisang #finally there's some xisanging happening #although mostly it's in the last two chapter #jau writes

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bestworstcase · 1 year ago

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Hello and good day. I hope that this isn't too much to ask, but what are your thoughts about Adam? It has always been my belief that Adam and Yang are mirrors to each other. Well, Adam has a lot of things to connect with Team RWBY, moreso with Yang, I think. Just wanted to hear your thoughts about Adam, I guess. Thank you.

i rattle him around in my brain from time to time. a lunar eclipse. he and yang are absolutely character foils; power vs strength, cruelty vs compassion, spite vs love, revenge vs justice. he refuses to control his temper, yang is defined by her meticulous control over her anger. moonslice and burn are almost the exact same semblance, even. a dark mirror.

he’s also doing… something… thematically salient to summer rose. which is what i’m picking over in that linked post. i’m not sure what it is yet but the setup is pretty evident.

tbh i think the narrative is far more sympathetic to him than most of the fandom cares to admit. the triumph and vindication burns bright when adam realizes he’s lost in V5 and runs away—that’s the moment where the narrative framing is like “fuck yeah, the bastard got what he deserved.” but when he dies? there’s just exhaustion, pain, and relief that yang and blake survived. it’s not played as a proud or happy moment. it just sucks so much that they had to go through this ordeal and it’s pitiable that he chose to waste his life on this. blake breaks down crying and all she and yang can do for a moment is cling to each other.

like. -> “there’s no cause to celebrate/another soul consumed by hate and spite/another destroyed life/there’s no pleasure, there’s no joy/it’s just the story of a boy who lost his way/into shadows strayed/he’ll see the light of day/nevermore”

he chose over and over and over again to be cruel, letting his anger rule him. chose to be vindictive, chose to pursue vengeance over justice. chose to hurt people. every time he was offered an out, he refused to take it and brutally punished the people who gave him second chances. sienna, blake, yang. in the end, he left blake and yang with no other choice but to kill him before he killed them. but… the narrative still mourns the person he could have been, if he’d made better choices, if the world had been kinder to him.

there is no question that blake and yang made the right call. they did everything they possibly could to avoid killing him, and they had every right to defend themselves when he refused to stop.

BUT,

it’s sad that they were forced to do that. it still weighs on blake’s conscience as a terrible ordeal and a choice she never wants to have to make again. because killing another person—no matter the circumstances—is horribly traumatizing. and that’s why the narrative refuses to frame his death as a triumphant moment. (the same thing happens with jacques’ murder in V8: it’s sudden and shocking and unjust and there is zero satisfaction in watching him die. and it’s terribly unfair to weiss, who specifically chose not to leave him to die. rwby is a story where every life matters and every death is sad.)

great character. the final battle between him and blake/yang is done really well and one of my favorite fights in the show mostly bc it brings the foiling between him and yang into really sharp focus. “what does she even see in you?” is such a raw fucking line because the things blake sees in yang are exactly the things she once saw in adam: he’s so consumed by his obsession his vengeance his spiteful rage, he’s strayed so far from the person he was that he can’t even recognize her when she’s staring him in the face.

i do think that when adam was 16-17 at the very start of his character short, he was genuinely a lot like yang. angrier and more aggressive, because his mentor encouraged him to be that way, but i think his ideals were true and his commitment to the cause of his people was genuine.

he was only a kid the first time he killed someone—sixteen, seventeen, about the right age to be enrolling in one of the huntsmen academies. and i truly do not think he meant to kill that man; he saw a dangerous person running towards his already-wounded leader with a gun and reacted. and this?

this is a lot.

no matter the circumstances, killing another person is traumatizing. after this happens, adam slowly straightens up and sheathes his weapon, then just stands there frozen, staring at the body, until the other assailants make noise and he startles. his face falls when ghira says “that wasn’t necessary.” he’s slow to turn around, but he does, and he listens quietly to what ghira has to say to him. he didn’t mean to. he can’t be older than seventeen. he is in shock—he doesn’t know how to react, how to feel, and like any teenager would, he looks to trusted adults for guidance. (much like yang looks to ironwood and qrow after she hurts someone by mistake.) ghira starts to scold him (not ideal), but sienna cuts him off and calls adam a hero, and then everybody starts to fucking cheer; “that was amazing!!”

this moment, while adam was reeling and unsure, this is when adam desperately needed to hear from an adult in the middle. ghira is right that using lethal force wasn’t necessary; sienna is also right that adam likely saved ghira’s life by taking action. what adam really needed to hear was “you were right to take action, but this man was not such a grave threat that he needed to die. why did you react the way you did?”—not to be scolded or lionized, but to be treated like a teenager who made a bad choice for a good reason and given support and understanding so that next time, he would know what to do better.

instead he got swamped with praise and the came away from this experience having learned that Killing Humans is Cool and Awesome and Heroic, Actually.

(i have a secondary thought here that the white fang’s fatal weakness—under both ghira and sienna—is treating children like adults. if adam had been an adult when this happened, he wouldn’t have been so dependent on his mentor and his leader to guide his reaction and an adult would be better equipped to hold “that wasn’t necessary” and “he saved your life” as non-contradictory ideas. similarly, ghira and kali respecting blake’s decision to stay with the now expressly militant white fang when they left sounds great until you remember that she was twelve years old at the time and then they didn’t contact her in any way for the next five years. it is… probably not a coincidence that adam’s splinter group skews young.

not that teens can’t be good activists but good activism does require pragmatism and emotional maturity and an understanding of nuance, and if you throw a teenager into a high-stress organization where they’re involved in often-violent direct action and give them zero guidance beyond “here’s how to fight!” because they’re assumed to have adult-level maturity and critical reasoning, then… yeah, you’re going to end up with an extremism problem. the kids are not going to just magically know the difference between tactical violence and violent revenge.)

anyway, i really like his character short. i think the narrative is very sympathetic to the boy he used to be and the thread of sienna inadvertently enabling and reinforcing his violent tendencies is interesting. my sense is that in the beginning she sort of used adam to score a point against ghira in their clash of opinions over the direction of the white fang, and later made a habit of being overly indulgent with him and turning a blind eye to his excessive violence—like.

during the fight in the SDC building, sienna rips through the AKs just as ruthlessly as he does, but once the human security personnel arrive, her tactics immediately change. she uses her whip to snag a man’s gun and yank it out of his hands, flicks bullets away, disarms, trips, disarms, trips, disarms, trips. the only time she uses the bladed dart, it’s to disable her opponent’s weapon. meanwhile adam is hacking and slashing behind her. she stops him when he moves to kill an man who’s disarmed and on the ground. faced with living opponents, sienna holds back and fights strictly to disarm. adam is not like that, and she knows it and presumably doesn’t approve—she doesn’t kill anyone herself, and intervenes to stop him from killing—but it’s also clear that there were never like. Consequences. she never took him to task for crossing these lines. as his leader she had a responsibility to do so, but she kept letting it slide until it was too late.

(tbh i think the biggest disappointment i feel regarding her death is well never find out why she cut adam so much slack. did she want to believe he was better than that? had she known him for so long that her memories of what he was like as a teenager blinded her to the adult he was becoming? was it that she found him too useful or realized he was too popular to chastise, finding herself in the same trap she once sprung on ghira? did she, like blake, convince herself it was just “accidents” or “getting carried away” and ignore the warning signs that it was a deliberate pattern? was she like the albains, fully aware that he was dangerous and unstable but confident that she could control him? there’s so many possible reasons she might have had and i think it’s unfortunate that her motives and her side of the relationship didn’t get explored at all.)

also this is stupid and doesn’t matter really but he’s not a fucking bull 😭 those are goat horns. he’s a goat. A GOAT!!

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the-monkey-ruler · 2 years ago

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Do you think that if Wukong had not killed the Six-Eared Macaque, the Six-Eared Macaque could possibly have been punished and then tried to be redeemed? I feel that since Heavenly monkeys are one of a kind, it might be one of the reasons why Buddha reacted the way he does after Wukong killed him. It's the way he reacts that makes me wonder what Six-Eared Macaque's fate would have been if it weren't for Wukong killing him.

Although I know that metaphorically, Wukong had to kill the evil part of himself.

That is just it! In the story, metaphorically yeah, Wukong has to kill him. I've talked about this before but Wukong facing off the Six Ears is legit him looking at the worst parts of himself, seeing the murder, the rage, the lack of empathy, everything, and telling himself that he is better than that. The whole ID versus Ego kind of battle of the mind of which one is going to win out and whether Wukong is able to control his murderous thoughts or let them win. But also Wukong looks at the worst side of himself and knows that not only can he overcome it but that he can become a better person. Knowing you are able for great good but also great evil and the need to keep yourself in check else you start going down a dark path. Wukong faces the reality that he is capable of horrid atrocities and needs to hold himself accountable and understand the consequences of his actions.

Wukong had to face his worst inner traits and say "I'm better than that" and he IS! Wukong looks at himself the selfishness, the ruthlessness, the lack of empathy and he hates that about himself but the only way to change it is to confront it head-on and personally stop it. He always trying to do better and that is why it is symbolized in a fight to the death.

But hypothetically, if the Six Ears was NOT a metaphor for facing your inner demons... I think he could be redeemed.

Because Wukong was redeemed as well.

The thing about Xiyouji is that it shows that no one is past the point of recognizing that you need to change and while isn't easy, anyone can self-reflect. Anyone can reach that point of knowing they can change and anyone can be a Buddha... even a monkey.

So with that being my belief of what the story is about I think that perhaps Six Ears could have turned that new leaf as well if given the right teacher and the right motivation. I don't think that Buddha had plans for the Six Ears because he would also know that Wukong would kill him. Even when you know something is going to happen you can still be saddened that it does happen, and I think that is why Buddha expressed his disappointment at Six Ear's death even if it was inevitable.

I don't think the Six Ears was even meant to be redeemed but rather that his needed death was still upsetting to the Buddha considering that Buddhas should not kill.

We see other demons on the journey being taken in as well like the Black Wind Demon, Red Boy, and the Hundred-Eyed Demon Lord. These demons were taken in by heaven and given positions to work under them so this wouldn't be out of the ordinary if given the right circumstances. Two of these demons were redeemed by Guanyin herself and she used the fillets to motivate and highlight their need for self-control. Perhaps If Guanyin didn't use the Prohibitive or the Golden fillets beforehand then it could have been used to monitor the Six Ears.

JTTR did suggest a secret fourth headband Strength for AU ideas so that would be a fantastic suggestion here I would say. He would be either under a buddha or bodhisattva if this was the case (most likely Guanyin since she would have the headband) and he would have to start his own path of self-reflection if he is to even reach enlightenment. Considering he is similar to Wukong then perhaps he would first have to go through a similar punishment under a mountain would be fair but if we compare him to the other demons that were redeemed on the journey it would also be understandable if that was skipped as well.

But those are my thoughts if this was the case as it could be a fun idea!

#anon ask #anonymous #anon #jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #ask #six eared macaque #sun wukong #monkey king #liuer mihou #liu'er mihou

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likesunsetorange · 2 years ago

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from what i have outlined, this would be from the first chapter, it's a little long (~2.5k words) but i wanted to include the whole scene, so hope y'all enjoy! (also unedited so don't fight me if there's any typos lol)

anyways, happy new year's and i'm super excited to share this au with y'all this year!

cw: mentions of drugging a person (mostly just the benadryl thing lol)

Eren hated the club.

Strobe lights irritated his eyes because they always caused him migraines; the pungent aroma of alcohol and the sensation of sweat clinging to his body always made him feel disgusted; and the excess amount of people, bodies crammed against one another, was enough to make his eye twitch with rage.

Eren shouldn’t be here. He hated the club. He would never be here out of his own volition. Especially after 3 AM, when he should be fast asleep, sinking into the four hundred thread count sheets of Mikasa’s guest room bed, Caro tucked beside him taking up half the bed like she was a human and not a dog.

But here he was shoving through crowds of drunken bodies, his head pounding, his vision blurry, and he was almost certain he was borderline hallucinating all because of her.

Eren tried to give Mikasa the benefit of the doubt—he pitied her situation, how could he not? A life that consisted of people constantly controlling your each and every move, and here comes yet another person that your family is forcing to do just that onto you. He tried to give Mikasa her space—he only made polite small talk in passing, accompanied her to her destinations of choice from an appropriate distance, and didn’t bother her whenever it wasn’t necessary. But despite his best efforts at trying to maintain the peace, her disdain for him was evident, she didn’t bother to hide it—from the constant scowls, her constantly exasperated demeanor, and the frequent insults she threw his away under her breath (Re: Jersey trash)—but at the very least, he hoped that she could to tolerate him eventually seeing as though Eren would be living with her for the foreseeable future, and it would both of their lives easier coexisting harmoniously.

But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Mikasa had made it abundantly clear that she felt she had been slighted. And even if Eren was only a pawn in her family’s doing, she wouldn’t partake in any of their little games, and if that meant Eren became collateral in the process, then so be it.

Eren was partially to blame, he should have known better, Levi had warned him beforehand that Mikasa was not one to be trifled with, and he should’ve seen it coming from the shift from a mere displeasure by his presence to a sudden interest in his overall wellbeing.

Eren had been easily fooled by the way her usually razor-sharp steel eyes had finally looked at him with a softness he had yet to witness from her, leaving him in a little bit of a daze. The way her perfectly plush lips mouthed his name, different than anyone else ever had—the N at the end soft, almost as if she was omitting it all together. And how could he not feel the tiniest pang in his heart when her light grey eyes looked up at him with so much tenderness when she asked: “Eren, are you feeling okay?”

Mikasa claimed she noticed his energy beginning to run low and she heard his sniffles increase over the last few days, the adjustment to the New York City air probably weighing heavy on his body—assuming it would only be a matter of days before he drew ill. And Mikasa seemed so sweet, so intensely saccharine, when she told him she’d cancel all her plans for the rest of the day, not wanting to force him out the house.

Mikasa went the whole nine yards— ordered takeout for the two of them, even making conversation with him that was more than their usual small talk, seeming genuinely interested in Eren for once. He couldn’t help but admire her newfound amicability, hoping that at the very least they could be cordial despite her overall displeasure with the circumstances. He even found himself enjoying her presence, finally getting to take her in outside of the few glances he ever got in passing. Mikasa truly was something like no other—even in her cute pink silken pajamas, he couldn’t deny she had to be one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. But she was technically his boss, so he'd tuck those thoughts away and at least be thankful that God had taken his time to make someone like her.

Eventually, after a bit of arguing on her part, Mikasa sent him to bed with a handful of pills Eren didn’t bother to ask about the contents of, insisting he take medicine before he got any worse, even if he did feel okay. She bid him a good night and well wishes, placing a gentle caress to his arm, a soft look on her face before she even offered him an apology for how bad she had treated him over the last week. It seemed like things were finally looking up for the two of them, so Eren returned her kind looks and thanked her for all her help, going to sleep with the faintest hint of a smile on his face, lulled quickly to sleep by a medicine-induced haze despite it only being 8.

And so Eren couldn’t even be that mad—she had truly put on a class act—Mikasa had played him, and she had played him well. His mom always told him he was so easily flattered—a sucker for pretty women who bat their pretty lashes, gave him sweet smiles, and made him feel good—and Mikasa Ackerman had done so little for him to melt like putty into her hands.

He found himself waking up in the middle of the night, almost incoherent, his vision plagued by small black spots and drenched in sweat. Eren struggled to maintain his balance as he stumbled through the house, Mikasa nowhere to be found, locating a box of Benadryl Extra Strength tucked away in one of the cabinets of Mikasa’s kitchen. Three tablets were missing, contrary to the recommended one tablet dosage, and Eren was certain that Mikasa had all the hopes those three little pills would have knocked him out for the remainder of the night.

It took all the concentration in Eren’s body, fighting against the exhaustion that plagued his body from all the medications coursing through his veins (how he managed to wake up he was still unsure) and the small black dots that danced across his vision, to try and figure out where Mikasa was. He somehow managed to log into her MacBook (her password thankfully being her birthday) and managed to track her phone to some club in SoHo.

The anger began bubbling up within him as Hannes drove him to where Mikasa was, enraged at the fact that not only did she try and drug him, but she had put on a front, pretending to be nice, for the sole fact that she wanted to go out and party. Eren regret giving her the benefit of the doubt—Mikasa was exactly who he she showed herself to be, a spoiled rich girl who would do anything to get what she wanted.

So as Eren threaded through the crowd of people, scanning the masses for her. It was only a matter of time before he caught wind of her signature ribbon at the bar, the strobe lights making it gleam different shades of the rainbow. She turned around shortly after, his eyes meeting her gaze, her lips turning up in smugness at the sight of him before taking another sip of whatever pink concoction she had in her perfectly manicured hands, as if she was almost taunting him. Years of attending Catholic school lead Eren to have a preconceived notion that the devil was this depiction of all things evil—something that was worth cowering in fear at the sight of. After years of seeing depictions on and portrayals on TV and all the stories from myths and legends, Eren always believed the devil would be vicious and scary, but no, the devil isn’t some demon, or succubus alike.

No, the devil is 5’6”, wears shiny satin ribbons in her hair, drinks fruity pink cocktails, and sports a smile that’s so sickeningly sweet it could convince a man to do anything. And if Eren hadn’t been seething with anger, through vision that was clouded with Benadryl-induced hallucinations and scarlet colored anger, hell, he’d even say she was cute.

Eren was in front of her before he knew it, his larger figure caging her in between the bar, Mikasa looking up at him innocently, feigning on the side of ignorance to the situation.

“Hi, Eren,” she quipped, her lips still upturned, the pink of her lips sparkling under the strobe lights from whatever gloss she happened to be wearing. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she added innocently, stirring her drink as if Eren’s presence was taking away from her fun.

Eren could feel his eye twitch, it had been so long since he had felt so angry, but it seemed as if in the week since she had met him, Mikasa had become an expert of just exactly how to get under his skin. He took a deep breath before he spoke, his jaw clenching through every word, wasting no time for her silly games. “We’re leaving, Mikasa.”

“You’re no fun, don’t you wanna stay a while? C’mon, Eren, loosen up a bit. I think you could use a break,” her free hand running along the slope of his arm. Eren could feel the chills run down his spine, but this wasn’t the time—he was angry, and he needed to focus.

“First you spend the entire week insulting me and treating me like absolute shit, then you pretend to be nice to me even bothering to give me a sorry ass apology, and then you drug me? And you couldn’t even bother to use something useful? Benadryl? Your parents are drowning in money, and you decide to knock me out with over-the-counter drugs?” His words coming out more in disbelief than in anger, his voice growing louder as he tried to speak over the music blaring through the speakers.

All Mikasa did was roll her eyes, setting her drink on the counter behind her, apparently growing bored of all her little games. “Sorry for being considerate and not drugging you with actual drugs, Eren. Next time I’ll remember to go for the hard stuff—don’t worry.”

“Glad you’re so sweet, Mikasa. I should be so thankful I have a boss as considerate as you,” he glared. “Now let’s go.”

“No,” she responded, crossing her arms, her eyes returning to the signature glare Eren had grown accustomed to over the past week.

Eren could feel the migraine settling in, the noises and lights being the starting point, and Mikasa’s failure to comply being the cherry on top. He closed his eyes and took one last breath, trying to prevent the anger from getting the best of him. Eren took one step forward, putting only a few inches in between him and Mikasa, forcing her back against the bar counter. His face was anything but amused, but Mikasa seemed to not be relenting.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Mikasa, your choice. Now let’s go,” he repeated, but Mikasa only doubled down at his words, standing firm in her place, steel eyes locking with green, her mouth pinched into a scowl.

Eren shook his head, upset about the circumstances as a whole, but also that it had come to this. With a swift movement, Eren had his arms wrapped around Mikasa’s waist, lifting her up onto her shoulder. His arms moved to secure her legs in place, her head and arms hanging behind him.

Mikasa let out a shriek as Eren made his way towards the exit a string of expletives coming out of her mouth. Bystanders watched in confusion, unsure whether or not to interfere in the pair’s altercation. Eren simply waved off their concerned looks, mouthing She’s drunk, to which most people nodded in understanding and resumed their drinking and dancing.

“You fucking jackass—let me go!” Mikasa yelled from above him, squirming in his tight grip as he approached the club exit. “Plus I need my fucking coat it’s fucking freezing outside!”

“Should’ve thought about that before you fucking drugged me. And tough shit, you have daddy’s credit card, just buy yourself a new one, princess.”

Eren readjusted her on his shoulder, his grip only tightening through Mikasa’s attempted escapes. He gave the bouncer a nod as he walked out, the man apparently unphased by Mikasa’s antics. “I swear to God, Eren. Put—” Hit. “Me—” Hit. “Down—” A final blow.

He winced in pain as Mikasa’s small hands threw punch after punch against his back, her hits stronger than he could have anticipated. But Eren could see the car, only fifty feet away, and he wasn’t willing to let her win, at least not this round.

“What did we learn today? We don’t do what? C’mon Mikasa, enlighten me. Please,” he replied, ignoring her requests, and pretending she wasn’t leaving palm shaped welts along the length of his back. He took her silence as a means for him to continue, “We don’t sneak out of the fucking house when there are active hits against our family members, and we don’t drug our body guards, just so we can get drunk at the fucking club. Hope this could help.”

“You’re a sick bastard, go back where the fuck you came fro—” her words cut off by Eren roughly placing her back onto the ground. She stumbled as she tried to regain her footing on her heeled boots, her hands instantly going to shield herself from the cold New York air. Eren lugged off his jacket, roughly placing it on her, not wanting to hear anything else come out of her mouth.

“Are you done with all the insults, or do you wanna stand in the cold and keep yelling at me?”

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“You’re not really my type, princess.”

Mikasa scowled before releasing a pained huff, throwing his jacket onto the floor. She stomped the few feet to the car door Eren held open for her, sending one last glare his way before she slammed the door in his face.

The entire drive home, he could hear her muttering how much she hated her family, how she was pissed off at the fact they hired him, and how much she hated the pathetic excuse of a mall cop they hired from sorry ass Jersey to be her bodyguard. And rather than take offense to any of her insults, all Eren could think about was how much that feeling of hatred was beginning to feel extremely mutual.

#eremika #eremika fic #bodyguard au #honestly all their interactions were making me laugh #they're so funny lol #also caro is eren's dog #fic previews #vic’s wips

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