#truly just hit him with ‘obviously. and obviously you have not.’

[michanvalentine]

Some of my favorite lines—among the saddest—that Astarion has ever said. Every time I hear them, delivered so perfectly by Neil, my heart aches. I'm sharing them with you because my husband can't take hearing me talk about Astarion and Baldur's Gate anymore!

"It’s what you want, isn’t it? To lose yourself in me." There’s an entire world behind this line: the expression on his face, the tone of his voice. There’s sadness and resignation. This is how things work—this is who he is. The person in front of him is no different from the others, just another one who wants to lose themselves in him, use him for their own pleasure, and then move on as if nothing happened. Not only that, but it's also the same old charade used to deliver unsuspecting victims to the slaughter. The same old script, one he’s tired of, one that causes him pain. His eyes grow sad as he says it, his shoulders sink, his lips curve downward, and everything about him exudes bitterness. In that moment, amidst sweet words and sensual movements, the real Astarion comes out, carrying all the heavy baggage he’s been burdened with.

"Maybe, but did he take it." Cazador is dead, Astarion won, he’s alive, and he’s free. But the death of his tormentor didn’t turn back time, the death of the monster didn’t undo the damage or return what was stolen. It’s a powerful, terrifying, and painful realization, especially when you think about how these things—these parts of Astarion—were taken and erased. Because what is gone wasn’t just lost—it was replaced with suffering, shame, anger, hatred, and horrific experiences. These are memories that will stay with him for the rest of his un-life, memories he’ll have to battle every single day.

"All right, I’ll do it." The way he says it, after Tav/Durge delves into his mind and uses his greatest fear against him, is utterly heartbreaking. Once again, there’s resignation, but there’s also fear and, worst of all, a hint of submission. In that moment, Tav/Durge is the embodiment of Cazador. They bring back his most horrifying experience, fill him with pure terror, and remind him of how useless, weak, and pathetic he is—unable to defend himself. It makes him feel small again, lost, and willing to do anything just to feel safe. And this is coming from the very person who, up until that moment (unless the player is a complete sociopath xP), had been helping him regain a shred of self-worth and independence. It’s truly a low blow, a betrayal—especially because Astarion depends on Tav/Durge, much like he depended on Cazador, but in a positive way instead of a negative one. They force him, against his will, to do something he doesn’t want to do, and with that statement, Astarion seems to be saying, “Yes, master.”

"I didn’t know how to say no." This one is heartbreaking too, it hits right in the heart. It really hurts, especially in context, but also in general. Saying "no" is a fundamental right of every free individual. But Astarion doesn’t say that he can’t say no—he says he doesn’t know how to say it. And that’s truly sad, because at this point, it’s no longer just an external imposition; it’s something internalized. And of course, it goes without saying that here too, Tav/Durge took advantage of Astarion—of his inability to defend himself, to immediately recognize and stop behavior that should be shut down at the first sign because it’s harmful to him. Once again, Tav/Durge betrays him in the worst way, right after an agonizing confession, no less—Astarion opens up and admits to having very real struggles with sex.

Do you have any favorite lines too? Obviously, there are a billion more funny ones, but I’m afraid I’d need an entire day to write down all my favorites. I just love this little shit too much. xD

[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY SEVENTH; side b — again - noah cyrus | tan x r

w; lovers to enemies :p, a bit short (?), tan gets mad over small things and blows them out of proportion 👎🏼 an; i honestly had NO idea where i was going with this and im still not sure if i enjoy it. very sorry if this sucks </3

mixtape here!

There’s a broken glass somewhere in the kitchen by the refrigerator that’s waiting to be cleaned up, yet neither one of you moves to clean the shards of glass. 

Something drifts through the air — malice, resentment. Your chest heaves slowly as you stare at the man in front of you, his blue eyes colder than usual. 

His nose slightly flares as he exhales, jaw clenching as he moves past you and down the hallway. The argument started off by a playful comment you had said, something silly — the comment striking straight into Tan’s ego. 

‘Do you even know how to cook?’ 

You’d apologized, promised you didn’t mean anything by what you said. Then he had hit you with a harder remark.

You turn and follow after him quickly. “Where do you think you’re going? I am not done talking to you.” 

“Oh, you aren’t, love? I sure am — I’m sick of this whole thing,” He opens the closet door, reaching inside. “You can always say something ‘bout me but whenever I make a remark back, you take it to heart.” 

“Says the one who started yelling at me after I realized how much it actually bothered you!” You raise your voice, lifting your arms out before dropping them down. “You always do this! Always! Why is it whenever I say something, you’re free to say whatever you want and not expect me to say anything back?!” 

He’s silent then, fuming as he shoves some clothes in a duffle bag. It's always like this after an argument, especially if Tan was still tense from a mission he had just come back from. 

The argument would start from the smallest thing, which led into him rushing into the bedroom like a coward and shoving some of his belongings into a bag, then he’d leave. He would always come back after four days, giving himself a chance to cool off. 

You were sick of it though.

“If you leave this time, don’t come back.” 

His movements quickly come to a stop and he stands a bit straighter as he slowly turns his head to look over his shoulder at you. Your jaw clenches when you see the look on his face. 

The anger has softened into a bit of confusion, brows furrowing together as he drops whatever is in his hand to turn towards you. “You serious?” He scoffs. 

“Deadly,” You nod. “I’m sick and tired of this — of me trying to get you to loosen up with a playful jab only for you to retaliate and make it something bigger than what it truly was and say something so…mean,” You pinch your brows together. 

“You’re so mean with your words, T, that I still remember what you told me last time before you left and stayed away for four days before coming back,” You shake your head. “Not only last time, but every little thing you’ve said and pointed out and used against me when you know how I feel about certain things, all those words you say stick with me,” 

“And when you leave and come back, then leave for a mission and come back, I know it’s going to happen again soon. But I’m just…I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you thinking I’m always against you when I’m not,” Your jaw clenches a bit. He stares at you quietly. “I have never been against you but you always treat me as if I’m some sort of bad guy you have to fight off, or whatever. But I’m not,” 

“I love you. And if you…” You let out a small airy laugh as your head shakes again. “If you can’t see that…then you just need to get your things and leave. For good this time. I’m not going to keep trying when that’s obviously something you don’t want to do.” 

He opens his mouth to speak but you turn and walk back towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that had been made. The glass breaking had been an accident, truly. Tan’s arms always flew out towards his sides when he had been over exaggerating, talking animatedly about whatever. 

Your eyes burn as you lean over to collect the shards, the glass sliding and clinking with the movement. You wondered if he’d just stay instead of leaving this time — apologize for the way he had acted and you’d even apologize, even if you did nothing wrong. 

After a moment, you realize that was only merely a wish for him to love you as much as you loved him. 

The door slams and you flinch at the noise, quickly redirecting your sight towards the door. Furrowing your brows together slowly as your face crumbles, you slowly lower yourself to the floor. 

| THREE MONTHS LATER. 

The steam rolls off the top of your latte and into the air, your eyes squinted even as sunglasses cover your eyes. Your book was propped open on the table, reading over the black, printed words. A small smile tugs at your lips, escaping the real world and entering one of fantasy and love. 

That world shatters, bringing you back to the real world, when you hear someone call out your name. Looking up, you smile when you notice Lemon. Standing from your seat, you lean over the railing to accept his bear hug, laughing softly as he pats your back before pulling away. 

“You look smashin’! How have you been?” 

“Thank you, Lem. You look great too,” You compliment. He smiles cheekily. “And I have been doing okay — busy with work, but other than that okay. I hope you’ve been taking good care of yourself.” 

Your brows lift slightly and there’s a slight change of tone in your voice that has him waving the concern away. “Ah, I’m fine. I’ve been takin’ good care of myself.”

Smiling, you nod and open your mouth to reply, but instead, stop short when someone calls out for the man. Your blood runs cold and you clear your throat. Lemon shoots you an apologetic look. 

“Jesus, there ya are. I’ve been lookin’ everywhere!” His voice still carries that confidence he always has, brooding in a way, and as if he’s a complete know-it-all. He comes to a stop by Lemon before glancing towards you. 

You avoid him, smiling at Lemon. “I guess I’ll let you go. My breaks almost up,” You reach over and pull Lemon into another hug. Tangerine watches and his mouth opens to speak, yet nothing comes out. “I’ll see you later, Lem. Stay safe out there, yeah?” 

Lemon glances between the both of you, feeling as if he was a child in the middle. He clears his throat slightly before looking at you with a small smile and a nod of his head. 

“Yeah, of course. You as well, darlin’.” 

You send him another soft smile, turning away. Keep your composure. Keep your composure. You’re doing good. He’s not there. 

Gathering your things, you make your way around towards the door that leads inside to the café. Tan watches and his shoulders slump when you disappear. 

He’s screwed. 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[jd-loves-fiction]

I would like to ask reader x stellaron hunters (i dunno if you accept multiple characters, if not im fine with only kafka) with a reader that fights like denji from csm.

Like, if you havent seen or read csm i would describe denji fighting style as bashing his head against a wall until it breaks, theres the eternity devil fight that you can probably find on youtube (altought its kinda gory, just telling beforehand.)

Its fine if you dont take the request but if you do thanks in advance :D

🌑 I have in fact not watched CSM but I'm vaguely familiar, so I've kept this pretty vague in the descriptions :)

✦ 𝐊𝐚𝐟𝐤𝐚 ✦

Worried sick + weirdly impressed

She finds the way you fight to be quite interesting, very curious as to why you choose it in particular

Will be asking a thousand questions, particularly about whether or not you feel pain and if yes, why you don't seem to mind it

If it does bother you, she will not hesitate to offer help through her 'Spirit Whisper' (what she uses on Blade to help with the mara)

But if you wish to endure it without help, then she'll respect it but care for you as best she can after fights

Truly, she'd rather end fights quickly so you dont have need to hurt yourself but she cant deny the excitement she feels at fighting by your side

Though her people are incpable of feeling fear, for you, she might just about taste it on the tip of her tongue

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

This hypocrite

Hurts himself constantly and yet worries about you so so much

Scolds you for being reckless constantly even tho he is the same, which you tell him - a fruitless conversation everytime

Always watching your back like a hawk on the battlefield, taking hits for you when he can - he'd rather hurt himself even if you can take it

Loves sparring with you tho!

It soothes him to know that you can keep up with him in battle

That being said he's the type to constantly remind you to take care of yourself, rest, eat well, etc

It's also comforting to know that should the mara take him over you'll have a chance to fight back against him, at least

✦ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 ✦

So hype✨

You're like an SSR character, extra extra special and she's glad to have you on their side

Doesnt give much thought towards if it hurts you or not - all she knows or cares about is that it's cool as shit

Lowkey constantly asking to fight you because she sees it as a challenge to complete

Keeps equating you to a boss in one of her videogames

Hypeman no.1

Always hyping you up and asking about combos MID BATTLE😭

Menace but at least she's always down for the chaos

✦ 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐲 ✦

Hypocrite no.3

So so worried 🥺

She's just generally very caring, especially towards those at her side, so obviously will keep an eye on you at all times

But as a soldier, she's not going to try to hold you back, even if she really wants to

She's got her own pride and so would never think to tarnish yours

BUT oh my god if you could stop risking your life every five seconds😭

She gets it, she does really, but she's naturally very empathetic and because of her trauma... Let's just say she's of two minds on the whole situation

Gets over it if you come out mostly alright - generally tries to focus more on the here and now

Please reassure her of what she already knows, that you're strong, capable and that she can trust you to come back to her at the end of the day

[scionshtola]

prior to going to rak’tika, ryne expresses nervousness over meeting shtola. and then the first thing shtola does is threaten you over being a sin eater (to which ryne says she’s even more intimidating than she imagined). and the second thing she does is go off on thancred in front of her for how he treats her. amazing first impressions lol

[to-the-batcomputer]

christ almighty. bruce wayne i don't forgive you for anything (<- girl who just watched utrh voice)

[cluescorner]

We need to bring back Gun Batman immediately where the FUCK is he

titans of tomorrow

aftermath:

[meowmedusa]

today i am playing a game called i hate everything right now

[aroaceofthesea]

That was a close call but solo avoided guys mission successful

[457gf]

hwang inho who . . inho x fem!reader

₊˚ʚ warnings : smut, dark content, age gap, naive!reader, manipulation, sexual coercion, dubcon / noncon, slight somnophilia, inho being a creepy old man for you, use of the word 'rαpe'

hwang inho who loves taking advantage of innocent naive girls, practically drooling when he spots you nervously fidgeting with your fingers, eyes squeezed shut as you silently begged for others to vote x. you wanted to go home so bad, but of course inho couldn’t let that happen.

hwang inho who can’t help but throb in those stupid cheap sweatpants when your smile drops even further from the result of him continuing to stay. obviously you didn’t know the real reason he said yes, though thinking of the look of betrayal that would form on your face after he tells you makes his grin that much wider.

hwang inho who approaches you gently, almost as if you’re a porclein doll who could be broken at any moment. you’re understandably weary because of the blue O stuck on his chest for the time being, almost as if a mockery. he’s the one that sealed your fate of staying here, after all. instead of bothering you like you initially thought, he politely invites you to sit with him and a few other people, under the ruse of “you look like you needed a friend.” in actuality, he just wanted to make sure you didn’t stray from his sight.

hwang inho who does everything in his power to get close to you. promising he’ll protect you, stick by you during all of the game, and put your safety well above his own. not like he was in any real danger with the guards on his side, though those words did give him a few brownie points from you for his generosity. it wasn’t really a lie, because he would protect you through all of the games, and he had no doubt about that.

hwang inho who watches you at night, promising to keep lookout for the whole group, though he spends most of his time staring at you. pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, pushing your hair out of your eyes so he’s able to see your pretty face better. inho can’t help but run his hands over your body, feather light touches across your perky tits and your hips, careful not to wake you up. you’re so god damn beautiful, you could be classified deadlier than the games because of the way you make his heart stop.

hwang inho who quickly pulls his hands away when you start to blink awake, eyes heavy with sleep. he’s a bit embarrassed he let himself be so reckless, but there’s nothing a little lie won’t fix. “oh, you kicked your blanket off so i was making sure you were cozy again.” “you were squirming so i thought you were having a nightmare. are you okay?” “i’m just checking on you, i’m sorry if i scared you.”

hwang inho who runs to the bathroom shortly after, unable to take more of the aching caused by your precious eyes. he’s pressed up against a stall, hand working fast over his thick cock as images of you flood his mind. you’re so cute and naive, he wants nothing more than to break you. you’re so stupid, you believed his little lie, not even questioning any further. and god, the way you called him “mister young-il” in that tired voice of yours before flopping back down, a sigh of relief escaping, made him feel even more perverted. you were so young and truly trusted him to look after you. he couldn’t get the thought of you underneath him, begging him to keep using you like a fleshlight out of his gross head.

hwang inho who can’t decide if he finds the idea of you crying out for him to stop and get off you hotter than you asking for more. definitely the former, he thinks. he wants to rαpe you, to sneak his hands underneath your pants in the middle of the night and play with your sopping cunt, the idea of your own body betraying you and giving into his sick desires and love for you makes his head fall back, roughly hitting the stall door in the process. he couldn’t care, he’s too far gone thinking about you.

hwang inho who can’t help but plot when the best time to take advantage of you will be, finally coming to the conclusion of mingle. the guards take a few minutes to clean up the bodies and some of the blood of each deceased after each round, leaving the players trapped in the locked rooms whilst doing so. all he had to do was wait for two people to be called out, tell the guards to take a little extra time, play your knight in shining armour, then push you against the wall and make you squirm.

[bagholes]

English subtitles for Johanne Sacreblue

You've probably heard of a parody of Emilia Pérez (produced by a Mexican trans woman!!!) called Johanne Sacreblue. The whole thing is in Spanish (and French, obviously), so I translated the whole thing to English (see read more)

While I wasn't involved in the production of the original short, I'm Mexican and I have a degree in Translation and Applied Linguistics, so hopefully you'll enjoy my translation. Please give the video some love and don't give Emilia Pérez more attention!!

!!!!!!!! ENGLISH SUBTITLES !!!!!!!!!

(Hey! I'm a professional translator, and I translated the whole thing in English. Please upvote so more people can enjoy this video!)

Ah, nauseating France.   

Home of wonderful food such as baguettes, croissants, and more.

Lots of wonderful people live here.

Obviously, we’re French. 

This might look like a love story,

but open your eyes and pay attention!

In France there’s rising burglary rates. 

But why tell you about France when I can show you?

Welcome to la France!

♫

Welcome to la France.

A unique and special country.

Where you’ll know what it means to truly love. Love, love from France.

Live the experience of this place. 

[Homer Simpson voice] Wow, classy.

Maitre D': Good evening, sir. Would you please leave without a fuss right now?

Homer: OK.

Welcome to la France

where you’ll get your heart stolen,

and your wallet, too.

Welcome to la France,

but if you’re Muslim, homosexual, or Black,

I want you to stay back. 

Crêpes? Les crêpes? I didn’t shower today. 

I’m not worried. I smell just fine. 

Like rats, sweat, and wine.

The cheese I eat smells better than me,

but my perfume can take care of it. 

I love feeling superior. 

Here’s some rapping just because. 

Oh, mon ami. Merci. Sacré bleu. Comment tu t’appelles? Merci. Déjà vu. Bon voyage! Pizza, kwason. 

It’s croissant, croissant, croissant!

Welcome to la France

where you’ll get your heart stolen,

and your wallet, too.

Welcome to la France,

but if you’re Muslim, homosexual, or Black,

I want you to stay back. 

Hit it, Mbappé. 

Viva Cinco the Mayo!

Long live cakes!

Marie Antoinette! 

Long live cakes!

My fucking crêpe still hurts when I think of you

Part 1: surprise and challenge.

Maybe all those years living in a ranch were good for him.

He wasn’t living in a ranch!

He lived in Mexico City for ten years.

Same thing. It might as well have been a jungle.

Mexicans are savages. 

Do you know what they do to cheese over there?

They eat it fresh!

I don’t think he copied their ways.

He’s still a good Frenchman.

He better be. I expect no less.

He’s my only son. 

All the suffering in Mexico must’ve gotten rid of his rebel nature. 

He’ll be the perfect man. The perfect male successor for the largest baguette company in France.

My son. My manly son. 

Did I already mention that my son is a man?

He’s here!

Maman, papa… bonjour!

Son of a-

[title credits] Johanne Sacreblue. Directed by someone with ADHD.

What were you up to in Mexico?

I learned how to open a beer using a bill.

Jonathan is using a dress, Bridgitte. And he has breasts! What do you think he was up to in Mexico?

Now my name is Johanne.

Nonsense! You’re not getting the company. No way. 

That’s fine. I don’t even want it. 

Honey, it’s your future. You’re our only DAUGHTER. You have to take the position. 

You’ll get the company. End of story. 

You don’t even want me to own the company!

Because I didn’t think it’s what you wanted!

Why did we stop speaking French?

What did you say?

Nothing. I got confused.

I’ll tell you something: remember the Ratatouille? They gave us this letter. They challenged us to the national France competition to decide once and for all what’s better: baguettes or croissants. 

Do you want to enjoy your fortune? Win this competition and manage the company. Or go back to Mexico to eat guacamole.

For the last time, no! You won’t get the company. 

I’m the only one who’s always loved croissants.

I’m the oldest son. It’s my right. 

Your right? How can think that about your brothers?

Any of them could do a good job.

Hugo can’t get over his artistic phase and he’s addicted to sniffing paint thinner!

I’m not just sniffing paint thinner! Yellow paint makes me happy.

Mario Hugo! Good luck with his twangy voice.

Mario Hugo: I agree with my beloved brother, but I love you, my family. 

No one knows what you’re saying!

Dugo is young! Why can’t it be me?

Well, first of all, you don’t have a penis!

Oof. Gotcha.

I’m trans. Other than that, I haven’t changed at all. 

Does it really affect you that much?

I’ve made myself clear: anything that affects our family affects me!

It’s not that we don’t love you, honey, it’s just that… you embarrass us. 

You’re not even an Hugo!

Yes, I am! I’m [French accent] Arturo! (Translator’s note: the rhyme got lost in translation. Sorry about that). 

“Arturo” isn’t “Hugo”!

Yes, it is! Ar-tu-ro!

Where did you get that?

Well… Chofls!! The letter!

The Sacrebleu have invited us to the Great Paris Competition. We will show once and for all what food item best represents our country! If you beat that family’s stupid transexual, you’ll get the company

I don’t know what to do, bestie. I don’t want to own that goddamn company. 

And why don’t you learn how to do something?

Because if I do it, they’re gonna cut me off, and I’ll be an unemployed, 28-year-old trans woman who has no life skills. 

Why don’t you just tell your father that you don’t want to do it and that you won’t do it?

It’s too late. I have no choice. 

Bestie, I’m so sorry you can’t enjoy your fortune with no commitment.

It’s awful…

Good evening, ladies. What can I get you?

I’ll have some French molletes.

I’ll have chicken.

Of course, ma’am. How shall we cook it?

Anything is fine as long as you kill it as cruelly as possible. 

Excellent choice, ma’am.

Anything else? Would that be all?

That’ll be all. Well, actually, I think I also want-

You said that would be all! You must assume the consequences of your decisions. Rot in hell! [spits]

Oh my, what a great service!

I know! They have the best customer service in France! Okay, so are you signing up for the competition?

I really don’t have a choice…

Bestie, you can do anything. You’re stronger than every woman I know, and I’m not just saying this because you used to be a man…

Thanks for the clarification.

You’re gonna compete and you’re gonna win.

Emily, you have no idea how much that means to me. You’re the only reason I wanted to come to Paris. I wanted to see my friend Emily in Paris. It was the only reason I wanted to come tot this city: see Emily in Paris.

Oh là là, I know! Everyone tells me that! What I don’t get is why you don’t want to compete. This is such an honor for France-

It’s just that there’s a lot of things I don’t understand since I came back. Why are we so impolite? Why do we love animal cruelty? And why exactly do we hate Muslims? 

Because it’s fun!

Yeah, maybe, but have you ever considered that it’s wrong?

Oh my God! You’re right! I’d never thought about it! We’re awful!

Oui!

What we do to birds… we drown them in cognac! Why are we doing it? Who thought of that?

I don’t know.

I feel.. dirty! I want to take a shower!

I knew I wasn’t crazy!

Seriously… I never thought that we were doing something wrong. I always thought that people who get minimum wage liked how we treat them. No wonder they sent you to Mexico… You’re crazy.

I got sent to Mexico for being trans.

They sent you to Mexico because you’ve been hallucinating. You’re seeing Marie Antoinette.

I’m not hallucinating! It’s the actual ghost of Marie Antoinette.

Marie Antoinette: don’t listen to hear. She dresses like a Guatemalan. I’m as real as my tragic death. They should behead her for having such damaged hair.

There’s no point in knowing the truth about France. At the end of the day, I’m just an ordinary French millionaire with enough money to live for four days. There’s nothing I can do.

Marie Antoinette: [unintelligible] sleep paralysis at night.

If you win, all of France will listen to you.

Ladybug: Welcome to the most important competition of la France, where France’s most important families will make a very important decision.

Cat Noir: that’s right! We’re here to make a very important decision. What food best represents France: baguettes or croissants?

Our fellow citizens will know what we’re talking about, but for those dirty foreigners that only know how to use soap…

Wear perfume!

We’ll explain the rules.

There’s two events: whoever wins both will be victorious!

The first even will be a race! The first one to reach the Eiffel tower, touch it and say our catchphrase “we give up!” will be the winner!

Without further ado, we’re heading to the competition!

It’s the best race I’ve seen years!

The Ratatouille throw a croissant to the Sacreblue and almost slashes her throat. It’s cat-tastic!

But Johanne takes the lead with 400 rats, and she wins the race!

Rats! Meow!

Here she comes!

Vive la France!

Your love for croissants ends here. What an embarrassment!

Don’t feel bad, honey. I never really expected anything from you. 

Arturo, I’m not gonna lie…

Brother, defeat will only make you stronger.

What?

You’re a great man. You’ll make it. 

Can I have five French dollars to buy yellow paint? I want to paint. 

Later that night in some French dumpster

♫

I’m just a trash man in Paris.

Another piece of trash in Paris.

But I’m also the greatest trash

I’m the trash man.

I’m such trash that I made a fortune using other cultures.

I’m such trash that I enjoy cancelling last minute

because I’m scared 

that they’ll see my tiny baguette.

I don’t have the guts to say that I fucked up.

I’m scared to know what people think of me

If I’m a good guy or just a bald bad guy

I’m such trash that it’s embarrassing.

I thought Karla Sofia was from Puebla.

I’m such trash that I wrote a musical about narcos.

“Penis to vagina, woman to man.”

What the fuck was that shit, bro?

I’m disgusting, don’t you see? 

I’m disgusting, don’t you see? 

Part 2: from hate to love

Why did you ask me to meet you here?

[sigh] I came to ask you to stop fighting over something as dumb as bread.

Baguettes are just bread, but croissants are France itself. It’s in our veins, in our wine, in the air we breathe!

Arturo, wait, don’t do it!

[coughing]

You can’t take a deep breath in France. Dumbass.

Whatever. You’re just saying this because you’ve been away for a long time. You’re nothing but a chimichanga lover. 

Cinco de Mayo!

How dare you!

Does it make you feel good to be a man hitting a woman?

Actually, yes. Now I get why we do it.

I’ve had enough! I can’t take it anymore! What’s wrong with France? Why do they like to hit women? Why do they like racism? Can’t you see that what we’re doing is wrong?

Actually, no. I had never thought about it. I never considered that… Oh my God… We’re monsters! What are we doing? We must put an end to this!

But how?

You’ll do it with me. With your amazing arguments, we’ll change France. 

Do you think it can be done? But how?

Oui, mademoiselle. If you let me win the second event, it’ll be a tie, and they’ll have to listen to us according to the French rules I hadn’t mentioned before. 

I don’t know if I can trust you.

Trust me, mademoiselle. Trust this stinky French heart.

Alright. Kiss me.

Do you want me to kiss you?

Yes. Give me a French kiss.

Here it’s just “a kiss”, stupid

Welcome to the second competition!

This is the most fabulous competition! It’s the racism competition!

That’s right, Cat Noir! And for those stupid Americans who don’t know what we’re talking about, in this competition, participants are given a total of 30 minutes to deport and catch as many immigrants as possible.

Everything is allowed: from making up crimes to blackmailing! 

Each Muslim is worth 5 points. However, participants can get extra points from hate crimes against Muslims, Black people, Latinos, members of the LGBT community, and fans of Emily in Paris!

Let’s watch the racism competition!

We apologize for the technical issues. Cat Noir had a fanatic episode. 

It was amazing! With a great lead, our winner, Arturo, was victorious. So we’ll have to call this a tie. 

Oh! For the first time in more than ten years, we’re getting some words from our ten French emperors!

Stop!

There… won’t be… a tie!

This decision will no longer be postponed. 

 Declaramos abierto el duelo final.

And it’ll happen right now.

Because I love Queen Marie Antoinette.

The final duel…

It’s the fight to the death with baguettes!

Good luck! And may the Frenchest win. Yes. Oui. Oui. Oui.

[Elmo]

Part 3: destiny

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

Fight to the death with baguettes?!

I think there’s gonna be a fight to the death with baguettes.

What? Fight to the death with baguettes? What’s that?

Oh, fight to the death with baguettes. I’ve heard about it. I think they’re gonna fight to the death… with baguettes.

[gasp]

Johanne: I don’t want to fight to the death with baguettes with you.

Arturo: Neither do I, but we have no choice.

J: Yes, there is. Haven’t they considered that this is wrong?

No!

Arturo: Papa Johns!

Papa Johns: I pitted your families against you with a little help from whom you love the most… your butlers. 

Arturo: Chofls!

Johanne: Wigles, why?

Wiggles: I’m sorry, madame. I need the money, and you haven’t given me raise in 25 years. 

Papa Johns: I’ll destroy you so the greatest French food gets recognition: French fries!

Johanne: You’re losing a lot of wine.

Johanne: you have a rat on your head!

Papa Johns: this tiny chef taught me his secrets, and I used them for evil. 

Wigles: I think I got Stockholm syndrome due to so many years of labor exploitation.

And that’s how we got away from the bad guy, Mr. French ambassador. 

Controlled by a rat… The nightmare of every French. Ladies and gentlemen, that’s how Johanne Sacreblue and Arturo Ratatouille restored the glory of France. What a captivating story you’ve brought us, full of pain and social commentary. Is there anything else you would like to add before we run out of funds?

Well, actually, yes. As many of you know, I went to Mexico, and my fellow Mexicans asked me to bring a gift to France when I came back, and what a better person to give it to than the ambassador? 

Oh, what wonderful surprise have you brought from Mexico? Could it be some wonderful Mexican tortillas?

Wait… Is that-

Yes, a cake. Un gâteau. 

[Credits]

And that’s the story of how your parents saved la France.

Thanks for telling me these stories, grandma.

My grand-son. My grand-son, a boy…

[sigh] 

♫

Tito, my grandson Tito (translator’s note: another rhyme that got lost in translation. Sorry again). Tito, tito. My grandson Tito. 

You smell like frog legs in the morning.

You smell like you haven’t showered in weeks. 

You smell like a moldy baguette.

You smell like the omelette that I ate. 

You smell like cheese. Smelly, smelly!

You smell like your grandma.

Tito, Tito, Tito, my grandson Tito. 

You smell like snails. You smell like escargot.

You smell like France. 

[tritoch]

the other thing I find very funny about trying to write a canon compliant wol is taking all the wolship hints extremely seriously.

I don't really wolship because I'm just fundamentally not that kind of fan. But I know for those who are, the sheer number of romance hints FFXIV throws at you can be overwhelming to parse in a context where you have a preferred/intended wolship, particularly if you're not attracted to the gender the hints are coming from in the first place (a particular tip of the hat to wlw fans navigating the g'raha of it all). I've seen plenty of people write around them or write them out or be like "no aymeric was for real inviting my wol to a nice platonic zero-subtext dinner," and God bless all of you.

But it's really funny to imagine them all as all-too-real but unreciprocated or perhaps unreciprocatable. The sheer scale of it is comedy. Spoilers for all of FFXIV follow.

Oh God, the Lord Speaker wants to have dinner, just the two of us, at his family estate and not a government building. I hope he doesn't bring up his crush on me. Thal's balls he's about to bring it up—oh thank God there's an emergency. Oh no someone got hurt! Oh no it's the teenage girl with a crush on me.

Your life is a cosmic joke. You watch the Sultana get poisoned and all your friends probably die to save your life and it's kind of all your fault in some ways, I mean at the very least you should've spoken up when they gave the teenager a private army, and then the teenage boy speaks up and is like, "hey, I guess we have at least one ally. What about if we go visit that guy who is really obviously down unbelievably bad for you and wants to lick the sweat off of you." and you have to be like, yeah, Alphinaud. Great idea. Let's do it. I'll call him.

(brief interlude: also haurchefant's DEATH hits so good if you don't reciprocate. It's okay. He gets it. You're going through a lot and even if you had time to sort through your feelings maybe you're just not into him. That would be okay! You can love someone, or the idea of someone, without needing it to be romantically reciprocated. That's chivalric, even. Knightly. So he won't ask you to lie to him and say you love him as he lies dying in your arms. He's not so low as all that. But could you smile for him as you used to? That true hero's smile of yours. And you do, and he dies. And you both know he died for a lie, in a way, or a flight of fancy. And he's okay with that. Are you? Should you be? Should he?)

Then you're into Stormblood and it's like wow, okay. That last part was all high fantasy, of course there were loyal knights and elegant princes. But this is war. Imperialism. Grim business, surely there's no way—oh no BOTH handsome young revolutionary leaders seem to have a special interest in you?! And so does the Crown Prince of the Empire? Come on, man. I should get to do the whole horrors of war thing without having to also deal with this. Gaius sucked and it was weird that he let his foster daughter run around being openly obsessed with him but at least he never made it my problem.

You can't even get away from it across dimensions. Shadowbringers is a horror story about going on a teambuilding camping trip with your work colleagues for some reason except they all suddenly got really hot and they keep touching you affectionately on the shoulder and being like "I care for you and your happiness. Truly." And also you're being stalked for the whole camping trip by two old men who are obsessed with you. The false climax of the story is that the one old man tries to betray you and give a dramatic monologue about how he loves you but the two of you are doomed by the narrative and then the other old man shoots him in the back like "no actually its MY turn to betray them and give a dramatic monologue about how our love is doomed by the narrative." Then the real climax is old man #1 backstabbing old man #2 in the middle of said monologue before old man #2 dies and gives ANOTHER wistful monologue about his doomed love. Then for the patches they're like okay so we have this even CRAZIER old man who's gonna strike when you're weak and give a dramatic monolo—

and that's without even getting into the literal soulmate ghost only you can see

my warrior of light never felt more betrayed than in that scene where Y'shtola is like "haha Alisaie and G'raha have crushes on the warrior of light." Like I thought we were COOL, Y'shtola! I work here! This situation is already in such a delicate balance! Right when I got here I met Alisaie's "friend from work" who was like oh haha so YOU'RE the one she can't stop talking about and we never followed up on that because the woman died horrifically like five minutes later right in front of us! Then when Vauthry got away and we had to do all that shit with the dwarves, G'raha kept pausing every ten minutes to be like oooooh I'm so old I'm gonna die soon...at least I got to spend some time with some people who are really important to me...in fact here's what I'd tell the person who's most important to me...actually u know them really well haha. And I just had to sit there and be like wow, dude, crazy.

even in the face of apocalypse you still gotta go back in time like 12,000 years and there's somewhere there who makes you sit and listen to his story which is that the purpose of his whole godlike immortal life was to be in a throuple with you and old man #2 from the camping trip. and you just gotta sit there the whole time knowing you/your past life is the one who broke up the throuple over politics. He's like come help me harangue the old man into streaking in public, he'll do it if you ask.

then you meet and fight and kill God and you gotta turn to the team and be like hey sorry guys can you give me a sec. I'm gonna call God by her real name because we met one time for like four days and after that the promise of meeting me again was one of the things that sustained her through her millennia of suffering. Not like that but like. Idk. Just gimme a sec!

It's a relief when you finally get to Lahabrea and he's like actually I still don't fuck with your vibe. Like thank GOD.

And my WoL is very obviously dad-shaped so Dawntrail had a very specific energy for me but I understand that for plenty of people your deepening rapport with Wuk Lamat had a romantic subtext (same for Koana depending on how you read a few of his lines). And personally I think it's the height of comedy to be like, noooo, babe, your highness, I know you and your brother the king are in love with me and want me to stick around and support you emotionally through this governmental transition haha. But it's just...the cursed wineglass, babe. I GOTTA go figure out what's up with this cursed wineglass.

It's a running gag in some of the more optional content that people are like "you have an unreasonable number of hobbies and side gigs" to the WoL from time to time. But if every time you tried picking up a new hobby some new elf started baring their soul to you, you too would be like Hey Jessie (or sometimes Krile or Tataru), my good friend who is one of the only people in my life who knows what professional ethics and work-life boundaries are, any chance you need muscle on a gig on the other side of the world? Ideally with only Cid and his ex so all libidinal energy in the room is directed towards machinery or someone who isn't me?

ironically one of the only places you get a break from psychosexual obsession is the nier content

[radbelinda]

One of the things that strikes me about the whole Neil Gaiman thing is that people really want to portray Amanda Palmer as being a remorselessly complicit figure, when a lot of things that are very obviously fucked up and menacing when you put it next to the actual assaults going on - are perfectly normalised and accepted within poly/ENM world. All of these things are fucked up and menacing, but the bubble of pseudo-feminist poly world is incredibly effective at making you totally oblivious to the fact that you're opening the door to abuse and emotional damage.

The thing of 'oh we just slept together and I took a consensual nude of you, now can I have your consent to send it to my husband' is a feature of poly culture, not a bug. Suggestive and inappropriate comments to a woman about how hot your husband will find her are completely normalised. A statement from your husband like 'I don't get to play with my Dom side with you, so I need to be with other women who are natural subs' (which I suspect is the reason he gave when he kept having affairs when she was eight months pregnant, after agreeing to be monogamous) is something that culture will expect you to be completely Cool Girl about. Being blasé when a woman comes to you and says 'your husband made a pass at me' is also the expected Cool Girl reaction. Bringing women into your circle that you think your husband will find hot is completely par for the course in those mindsets and part of being a good and fun and sexy partner - no one doing that in poly culture thinks of themselves as 'feeding him women to rape' or grooming. Lots of people seem to find Amanda telling Neil that he couldn't hit on Scarlett, but still leaving him alone with her, to be jawdropping - but, as someone who has had people in ENM relationships exhibit poor boundaries around me and try to insinuate me into their sex lives in inappropriate ways, I know that that kind of thing is seen as due diligence and an appropriate way to navigate a situation. My experience of people immersed in that kind of culture is just this general assumption that words and agreements are magic - that all you need to do is communicate and agree terms and everything is fine, and if an agreement is violated you just need to communicate more and agree terms and everything is fine, pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.

What a lot of people want (and have wanted all along when they were making jokes about how understandable it was for Neil to 'fly across the world to escape having lockdown with her') is for Amanda Palmer to have been a truly abhorrent person, when the truth is that the whole culture around poly/ENM/open relationships - not necessarily the stated rules everyone claims to be abiding by, but the actual culture itself - encourages this stuff, especially from women.

I'm not suggesting Amanda is a victim in anywhere close to the same way as any of the women profiled in the reportage, and I do think her learned obliviousness enabled her complicity in creating a situation like Scarlett being left alone with Neil, but she has clearly been manipulated as well. Think of how insanely manipulative it was for him to wait until she was in late-stage pregnancy to start violating the terms of their marriage, how he surprised her with a lot of 'dark' elements of his personality after they were already married with a child, how we don't even necessarily know how much control she had over the marital pursestrings, how (as covered in the Tortoise podcasts) he would pressure the woman who lived on his estate into sexual activity by saying that Amanda, not him, wanted to sell the house and kick her out - and that if she kept him sweet he'd be her advocate against his evil wife. He is so clearly a profoundly manipulative person and it's just lunacy to suggest that none of that manipulation will have been targeted at Amanda.

[jaggedamethyst]

clandestine

viktor (arcane) x stripper f!reader

pairing: viktor (arcane) x f!reader

content: 18+ minors dni, smut, not thigh but lap riding, strip club obviously, some cursing, porn some plot idk, established relationship, secret relationship, not proofread

notes: i am not personally a stripper, but I have somehow seen a lot of movies and youtube vloggers explaining the culture and mindset they have…about doing this to get them to a next phase of their life. some people may not feel that way at all, and just do it to feel empowered….or literally just because its a job. no reason is more valued than the other, and I hope I did this justice because I have the utmost respect for every job. please let me know if anything isn’t hitting the way it should in that regard and i will make the edits <3

also, not an au… this was kinda inspired by lest. idk if it was ever confirmed, but the character kinda reads to me as a sex worker and I do love that. normalize including those stories in media.

word count: 2.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Stepping into the building always felt particularly specific for Viktor. The music was melodic but slightly too loud. Flashing lights almost always sent him off balance, leaning into his cane. A vibration pulsed—bouncing off every wall hard enough to make him physically swat the feeling away with his head. Yet, whenever he’d find his seat and glance across the room—all of it faded away.

Had there not been a physical spotlight, Viktor could still find you a mile away. He was completely entranced, mesmerized by the way you moved—even more so by the fact that it was an act. You were sweet, saccharine even, and you never showed it. That side was all for him. Only him.

When you were at the club, there was a veil over you—projecting a unique exterior. Dancing allowed you to disconnect and channel an identity you didn’t in everyday life. Often, you were misunderstood. Even more common was for you to be ignored—it wasn’t like that at work. You were respected and held at the same regard as everyone else. There were rules, and everyone followed them. You were an equal and you appreciated that.

Regardless of that feeling on stage, the money was also damn good. You grew up in the Undercity and you knew what it was like to have nothing. This fact was something you and Viktor bonded over initially. Later, both of your intellect and fondness for academics. He empathized, too, with you having no family…even more the fact that you started this venture to pay for your studies. That’s how the two of you found yourself dating. There was an unwavering kindness about Viktor, you loved that. The secrecy made every interaction all the more interesting, especially in the confines of the Piltover club.

The shift started like any other. You were on stage, moving to the rhythm of your song, Lest in your peripheral. You’d often recall how she was the first person to make you feel truly comfortable. She’d linger during your sets, calling security when needed, even speaking up for you when she realized you couldn’t. Lest gave you the push to take control, and the money really showed it.

You glanced down a bit, seeing some of your money get swept to the side. Lest had your labeled basket in her hands, grabbing some out of the way for you. In that split second, you saw a glint toward the back corner. You smirked, seeing your boyfriend spread on a chair—observing you through low eyes. You sped your tempo up, the stage now cleared enough for you.

Viktor noticed your arched a brow and stifled a chuckle. As you picked up the pace, he leaned back more comfortably in the chair. A hand held onto his cane, knuckles paling at the forceful grip. His other hand rested on the chair. His legs spread entirely, something he knew you loved. He was locked in, eyes roaming over every inch of your body as you danced. Your back was to him, then, ass shaking seductively in a way he’d always appreciated. You bent simultaneously, making a show of your legs before dropping into a split. You rolled your neck, looking toward Viktor. He watched your hand trace over your leg before tapping on it twice with a smile.

You’d definitely seen him back there.

Lest gave a knowing smirk, nodding over her shoulder “I see you spotted your regular.”

“Sure did.” You laughed at that, swinging your legs around. “It’s gonna be a fun night.”

“Oh I can tell.”

Lest didn’t know the two of you were dating, nobody did. That was the allure. Viktor could be the “regular” who showed up and dotted on you while you played the helpless stripper who so desperately needed his money. Neither were true, except that Viktor did love to spend his money on you.

Lest spoke up again, “You should head back there, before he gets restless…you know how they are.”

You moved to stand, doing a final spin and wave to the audience. “You’re right…can’t miss out on the money.”

“Exactly.” You moved to help add the rest of your money to the basket, Lest gripping it for dear life. “I’ll put this in the usual spot. We can do count after you rake in the big bucks.”

You high-fived Lest, watching as she turned immediately. You turned away, too, knowing that the chance of any of your money being taken was close to zero. You’d trust her with your life—so much so that you often debated telling her more about yourself outside of the club. Part of you figured she knew about your relationship and just played along. The thought of that made you love her friendship even more.

There was a drag in your step. You purposely made your strides slow as you inched toward the corner Viktor had chosen for tonight. His eyes had yet to leave you, but his free hand circled the arm rest. He was pent up, which was perfect, you thought.

He watched as you finally reached him, standing over his seated figure with your hands on your hips. You spoke first, yelling a bit over the music. “Funny seeing you here.”

He played along, eyes raking over your body. “I frequent here relatively often, do I not?”

You shrugged, looking away, “One could say that.”

He smiled, moving to stand up. You were a bit shorter than him, but slightly taller now thanks to your heels. He glanced down at them in adoration, loving the feeling of looking up at you. “You were stellar, love.”

You raised your head, flicking your hair. “Thank you, baby.” Your eyes lingered on one another, the genuine feeling of affection sitting between you both. Leaning down to whisper in his ear, you broke that sweet feeling. You played to his true intention; you knew why he was here. “Wanna go somewhere more private?” You let your lips linger for a second, hands coming up to rub his neck and behind his ears with your thumbs. “I know a place.”

He watched you pull back, looking up through his lashes. The smile on your face absolutely melted him. He reached down, slowly searching his pocket. He flipped up a bill that was settled between two fingers. “Lead the way.”

You plucked the money from him and grasped his now empty hand. The exchange had its own unspoken rules—Viktor would always pay, you would let him. The inherently degrading nature never found its way to your relationship but was instead a way to keep up appearances. For Viktor, it was yet another way to show his love for you. He’d give it all if he could—you deserved it.

He followed you, stalking behind your enticing figure. You’d shift every so often, your reflection moving with the tone of the lights. The sound reverberated off of you both, pulsing between your interlocked fingers. The bass slowly faded as you walked down the long hallway, even more so as you entered the secluded room.

The lights were low, a quiet music lulling in the room. Candles lit the area and added a hint of vanilla to the air Viktor appreciated—it smelled like you. He closed his eyes at the thought, enveloped by the scent and feeling of your skin on his palm. You glanced up, observing that the light on the cameras had been switched off. You huffed gratefully, knowing you had to thank Lest again later.

Viktor felt the pull of your hands and mindlessly followed until his back met the couch. He cleared his throat, looking over to you beside him. “So,” he paused, “How was your day?”

“Do you actually want to know how my day was?” You pursed your lips, sarcasm riddled all over them. “Or are you just indulging me so you seem like a gentleman?”

Viktor was frazzled at that, “What? No…” He brushed a hand to move his hair out of his face, “No! I would like to know-“

A kiss to his cheek interrupted him, “I know.” You nodded slowly. “But you should just ask for what you really want…I’m a busy woman after all.”

The flicker in his eye was one you genuinely loved—the switch from caring boyfriend to infatuated client.

“And what is it you think I want?” A hand brushed over your cheek, his thumb slowly finding its way to your lips. He looked down, rubbing his fingers across your skin.

You reached down, then, a hand firmly landing on his thigh. You maintained eye contact as you spoke—sliding a hand further up his leg. “I think I have a pretty good idea…”

“Is that so?” Viktor leaned back further to adjust his lap and purposely push his hardened length into your palm.

The two of you leaned in closer, the pull of each other undeniable. Slowly, your lips collided. There was an urgency, yet neither of you acted on it—an attempt to savor the moment. You maneuvered then, lips still connected. Viktor hummed against your mouth—a sound that left you smiling as you pushed a leg over his lap.

The once soft push of your lips together was now bordering on frantic. Every so often, Viktor would move to pull and suck on one of your lips—urging you on. You were lost in the motion—in him. Your hands snaked up the back of his neck and tangled with the hair at the base of his neck. With a forceful tug, you pulled him back. He was looking at you now, face flushed and lips completely swollen and glistening. Looking at him this way already had your underwear dampening. You refused to break eye contact, lowering yourself just on top of Viktor. Sucking in a breath, he tilted his head back—leaning into the couch cushion.

You began to circle your hips. The friction of the restrained material had you feral. “Fuck…” You continued, slowly circling and moving up and down his erection. “Fuck, Viktor.”

He matched you motion suddenly, circling his hips up into you. The motion had your insides pulsing. You couldn’t keep up the act, leaning down into the warmth of his neck. You felt him kiss and suck on your neck. He trailed kisses up and around your ear—moving around your hairline. His hands found your back, pulling you into him even more. Erratic breaths filled the room. All that was missing, you thought, were the lewd sounds of slapping you so desired. You’d give anything to be fully naked right now, letting him work all over you. But there was no time. The thought only spurred you on.

He spoke suddenly, “I needed this.”

“I know,” You push and pull into him faster, “Me too.”

The fabric barrier between the two of you was soaked now, a mixture of both of you. You slid back a bit, arms length distance away from Viktor. His mouth was agape from the lack of sensation, but quickly lost any will to argue when you began to swirl on his tip. He was always so sensitive there—and you were close. The rubbing on your clit had your breath shallow, your motions less rhythmic. He noticed, grabbing your waist to guide you to a speed that had both of your eyes rolling back.

“I’m close….”

Viktor pulled you into a kiss and mumbled into your mouth. “I am too.”

With a few more pumps against each other, you were finishing all over each other’s clothes. You accidentally broke the kiss, gasping for the breath that escaped you at the burning sensation in your body. Viktor didn’t stop, though, pulling you in impossibly closer. He worked the both of you through, choking out a whine as he shot out ropes into his pants.

The two of you sat there, embracing each other for a while. The feeling of each other was enough in the moment—drowning out the sensory overload of the club. Your finger tips traced over his features. You smoothed over his brows, the moles by his eye and lip, the divets in his cheekbones. He was entirely mesmerized by you—a devotion all over his face.

Light taps at the door broke the moment. You knew it would be Lest; she’d often drop by when you took a bit longer than management would like for just one customer. Opening the door a crack, you saw a pile there—a change of clothes for you and a smaller hand towel. You scooped them up quickly, moving back into the room.

Viktor was still watching you, a hand finding its way back to his cane. His grasp wasn’t as tight as before, you smiled to yourself at that.

You stripped quickly, moving to clean yourself and change your clothes. “Missed you today.”

Viktor pushed himself forward in the seat. “And I, you.” He staggered over to you, a hand pushing in and out of his pocket. He held up a bill again, “We should do this again sometime.”

A small chuckle escaped you. “Sure, baby.” You pecked a kiss on his cheek as he walked by you. “I’ll see you at home.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

What are some ways the Mafia crew would try to further woo their dearest love? And in return, what ways could we further endear ourselves to them?

Scary spooky mafia guys...... trying their hardest to woo a pretty human. AGH it hits all the notes!!!!

Horror gets overwhelmed. You make him so happy, so fuzzy, so warm - but he doesn't believe he can 'woo' you. Not when he can't bear his own reflection, not when even his Dust and Killer consider him violent and frightening. Horror believes his affection for you is his only redeeming quality. He doesn't think you'll like him, but he literally can't stop himself from trying, so when he has his heart set on you his methods are... surprisingly slow and tentative. Especially considering how mercurial he usually is. He brings you flowers that made him think of you, he makes you food, he pores over his brother's dating manual and panics when something happens that he hasn't read about. He's nervous to even hold your hand in case he scares you; the other skeletons are so handsome and eloquent and flirtatious, how could he ever compare? If he frightens you off, he'll never get you back. He has to be gentle.

How could you endear yourself to Horror? Tell him how handsome he is. Tell him how often he's charming without realising. Compliment his cooking. It really won't be that hard, he's already head over heels, but hearing that you like him means so much.

Dust... does not struggle with wooing. Sorry Horror. Dust is frightening, certainly, but his quietness gives him an undeniable magnetism. Like a wolf - sure, you can see his sharp teeth when he smiles, you can see the moonlight flash in his empty eyes. But when he draws close... you can't help but want to move nearer, and touch his soft, silver pelt. Compared to the other three, his romancing is much more underhanded, more about you than grand gestures toward you - which can honestly be a relief when you're being pursued by such big personalities. He turns on the charm, talks quietly and sweetly, stands just a little too close to be platonic, rents your favourite movie when you're down, and (most importantly) positioning himself as your friend and confidant against the other bad guys. He clearly doesn't want to be involved with them, and it's easier to keep you close if you trust him more.

Dust is won over by sincere affection and compliments. For all that looming and flirting, he sure does fall apart quickly when you look right into his eyelights and tell him you like having him around. At that point, he's all yours.

Killer firmly believes that if he can make you laugh, he can make you love him. It's all about getting those giggles, baby. Whatever kind of jokes you like is the kind he tells, he's impressively quick on the draw and never runs out of material, on occasion you may have to ask him to stop joking because your cheeks and abdomen hurt from laughing. He's careful not to be too much... he knows when to be bombastic, when to just be a bit silly and teasing, and when to offer a shoulder to lean on because you're not in the mood. His romantic side is obviously going to be in full force - bouquets, sweets, cards, dates - but his number one wooing technique is getting you to smile. The world you've been unwillingly dragged into can be truly terrifying, and even with the skeletons surrounding you, you'll no doubt feel the nerves and pressure. Killer's humour is a welcome distraction.

It's... hard to tell what endears you to Killer. Honestly, it's hard to tell what Killer is ever thinking. How do you know what's real affection, and what's just a way of making you feel comfortable around him? How can you tell when he's not acting anymore? Though, if you look at how hard he's working every single day to make you that little bit happier... maybe it's not possible to be any more dear to him than you already are.

Nightmare likes to throw his money around. He has an incredible skill for catching when you really like something, reading your face for even the subtlest shine in your eyes, and no matter how much you try to cover your reactions he will catch when you want something and buy it for you. ... But that's not his only wooing trick. Nightmare is, to most people, a violent and unpleasant man who lets his temper take him wherever it pleases. But once he understands his feelings for you and fully commits to romance, he's charming. Lethally charming. He was raised a prince, after all, Dream isn't the only one who has a way with words. You'll start a simple conversation with him, and then you blink and you're sitting on his desk in his study telling him things you've never told anyone. You'll go to him specifically trying not to be swayed - and then when you snap back to reality the two of you are sharing a very luxurious bottle of wine in his room and you've just agreed to be his plus one to a gala this weekend. After all, if he wants to buy you another eye-wateringly expensive necklace, he's going to have to convince you to try some on first.

Nightmare appreciates any attempt to get to know him. His whole life, he's felt like he's living in Dream's shadow, so when you try to actually understand and learn about Nightmare he gets as flattered as he does flustered. Find out about his favourite painters and musicians, read his favourite books, ask him about himself. No one ever has before.

[divinitysotherside]

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

JUST WANT YOUR PUSSY !

ᯓ★ . “if i were a zombie, i’d never eat your brain, i just want your pussy ?”

pairing . choso kamo x reader

warnings . smut – mdni , choso and reader are both of age , zombie choso , zombie apocalypse , choso can control the fungus or something cause he’s a half curse , reader’s first time , mentions of overstimulation , pussyeating , established relationship

choso was still not back. he had just told you that he’ll look for food and other supplies you both need, but it’s been 4 hours, and he’s not back yet.

you look outside of the window of the house you and choso were staying in, seeing the horde of zombies roaming around. the apocalypse truly was brutal.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

after a few more hours of your anxiety kicking in, choso finally got back. “choso! i was worried sick!” you yell, pouncing on him playfully as he entered the house.

“sorry to worry you,” he smiled, caressing your back as you clung to him. “i needed to fight some zombies while coming back.”

you peppered his neck with kisses, making sure to hug him tightly, showing him just how much you missed him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

it wasn’t until choso was alone in the bathroom, taking a shower, when he noticed the hidden bite on his arm.

shit, he was infected.

his discovery soon fell in vain, though, as he felt his mind going blank. “fuck,” he cursed, relief washing over him when his skin didn’t turn green.

maybe because he was a half–curse, who knows?

but he started drooling, and he knew he could only control his hunger for a while. so he hurriedly barged out of the bathroom, searching for you.

“my dear,” he called out, panting as he finally found you.

you look up at him, confused. “yes, choso?” you ask, tilting your head.

that was until you noticed him drooling, and he obviously looked like he was struggling or.. fighting something back. panting and everything.

“choso? are you okay?” you ask, concerned. standing up, you look into his eyes, examining him.

“n–no, you need to get out of here. i’m infected!” he blurted, stepping away from you. “i know i can.. only stop myself for a limited a–amount of time, so get out while you still...can!” he grits his teeth, obviously fighting the virus back.

“choso, no! i won’t leave you here! you think i’m gonna do that when we already did so much together!?” you ran over to him, pulling him in a tight embrace.

you know you should leave if you still wanna see another day, but fuck it, it’s either you die with choso or you won’t accept death.

“b–baby, leave, please..” choso murmurs, his hands tightening on your skin as he holds you. it’s clear that he can’t fight the virus anymore, but he tries.

“no, i won’t! i love you, choso, and i will prove that!” you cried, clinging onto him tightly. “you have already p–proved that to me!”

choso tries to push you off, but his attempts are futile, and he then starts to lose control, his mind going blank, his mouth drooling.

he then pushes you away, his force stronger than before. “c–choso, i’m not leaving—” you look up, seeing choso’s eyes, lacking irises. he looked messed up, and messed up bad.

the virus has taken its effect.

“shit,” you curse, switching up on yourself as you scan the room for nearby weapons. as you reach for your metal bat, choso grabs your arm, forcing you to look up at him.

“fuck off!” you barked, struggling as you try to hit him with your free hand, but he catches it again. his skin was still like before, and it’s probably because of his half-curse blood.

he pounces on you, making you fall to the floor with choso pinning your arms above your head. he was growling, already out of his mind as you look up at him, terrified at what happened to your lover.

“c–choso! get off!” you yell, but it reached deaf ears. “ choso ” was already out of his mind, and this was definitely not him.

“w–waant you,” he managed to grumble in a distorted voice—is he still there? can he fight the infection? “choso!? listen to me! g–get off!” but his grip only tightened, enough to leave bruises.

“sorry,” you hear him mutter as he leans down to bury his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. his warm tongue then drags along your soft flesh, from your neck, your collarbones, to just above your breasts.

“hungry,” choso whispers, one of his clawed hands coming up to rip your shirt off slowly, exposing your chest to his gaze. “c–choso..” you mumble, your breath hitching once his hand squeezes one of your tits.

his tongue then swirled on one of your nipples, before sucking on it fully. you watch as he continues to satisfy his "hunger", his iris-lacking eyes then dropping lower.

he leans down, his hands gripping your thighs as he positions himself—his face between your legs. “l–let me,” he growls, already burying his face in your panties.

as soon as you nod, he rips your panties off, licking your slit. he groans at your taste, determined to have more of you. he dives in, his tongue messily swirling your pussy in a desperate attempt to eat you out.

you moan, your hand flying to tangle itself in his hair, bucking your hips against his face. you bite your lower lip, the man—zombie between your legs beginning to enter your cunt via his tongue.

your legs trembled as you neared your orgasm, his tongue relentlessly licking up your juices caused your grip on his hair to tighten—moaning as you came.

and as choso hungrily takes everything you had to offer, he didn’t stop eating you out.

with a zombie that technically can go all night? good luck.

a/n . tysm for reading this fic ! i wasn’t able to post anything because our wifi went out for 5 days and i couldn’t post :(

[grandline-fics]

Unconscious Protector

DESCRIPTION: When you suddenly lose consciousness 

WARNINGS: Descriptions of fainting and sleep walking

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Killer, Marco | Luffy, Zoro | Law, Sanji, Ace

WORDS: 2,247

A/N: Here's another part for this prompt that you guys voted for my belated birthday and 2k follower milestone event. I'll probably do another one of these with other characters at some stage but I hope you all enjoy this version with these characters.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SABO

When Sabo needed a sparring partner there was no-one he sought out more than you. You both made it gruelling and challenging but also fun in equal measure. Your sparring sessions could last as long as you both could stand or until someone else came along in need of either of you for a meeting or a mission. Some people would have called your long bouts impressive which he’d agree with. But when they’d call it excessive, Sabo would disagree. Because of the busy schedules you both had and missions now taking you both longer and further away from the base it meant the sparring was really the only opportunity he had to make spending time with you plausible without fearing a rejection had he just asked you out like a normal person.  

Sabo walked through the base, his eyes searching and bright as he looked for you. He slid to a halt and whipped his head to the side when he finally spotted you out of the corner of his eye. Excited he turned towards you and called out your name, grinning when you immediately turned and beamed when you smiled at him in greeting. When he approached, his grin hardened and he closed the distance, throwing his arm out which you managed to block with your forearm. Obviously he wasn’t going at full strength or speed and neither were you. At this point it could be compared to two normal people saying ‘hello’ but then again, you and Sabo’s relationship never could be defined as normal. 

You never could say no to Sabo and his requests to train. It was how you could selfishly have alone time with him. Most of the time the sparring sessions were more fun than gruelling and you didn’t realise you’d been training until you felt the effects the next day. Now had you used your brain a little more instead of thinking about your crush on the Chief of Staff you should have declined this sparring session because you were already exhausted having just returned from a mission. You should have just done the smart thing and said 'maybe tomorrow’ or even 'maybe later’ instead you all but raced him to the training room. Now you were truly suffering for you lack of thought. Attacks you could have avoided with ease took greater focus than normal. You were still holding your own but now you could feel the extra weight on your limbs and noticed the sting in your eyes. The exhaustion was mounting but you still couldn’t bring yourself to stop sparring.    

Sabo caught your wrist when your threw a very obvious attack at him. Quickly he spun to knock you to the floor but his confident smirk feel into a horrified expression as your body went slack and eyes fell closed, unconscious before you’d even hit the floor. Frightened for a moment he’d went too far even though he knew you’d both fought each other with more ferocity in the past, Sabo quickly checked you over, desperate to make sure he hadn’t actually hurt you. When he was assure by his own observation that you’d just fallen asleep he finally let out the breath he’d been holding and slowly lay down to settle beside you on the training mats. He wasn’t going to count this as a win in the long running and very balanced tally of wins and loses between your spars.

Instead he tucked a hand behind his head and closed his eyes. If anyone came by they’d just think the two of you were both relaxing together. Sabo also used the time to let his own body unwind, realising that maybe he was putting his own body under too much strain too, it would’t have been good if he fainted in the middle of training too. Silently he was grateful no one was around to see this and was able to enjoy spending the chance to rest peacefully alongside you. Now Sabo began to think of other ways he could spend time with you. 

KILLER

The Victoria Punk was always loud and energetic. On days when the crew were navigating fierce storms and engaged in explosive battles, it followed the same code as it did when things were peaceful and fun; the louder the better. For two days straight you and the rest of the Kid Pirates sailed through one of the worst storms you’d encountered in a long while, yelling out to each other and shouting acknowledgement to Kid and Killer as you hurried through the rain and crashing lightning and rolling thunder that you’d heard their orders. Then came the explosions of canons and gun fire when a Marine ship appeared through the darkness and heavy veil of rain, launching their attack when they thought your crew’s attention was distracted by the weather but they soon learned the chaos was what you all thrived on and met the challenge with wide grins and drawn weapons. 

The Marines engaged with you were relentless, you’d give them that much but ultimately they were overconfident and their weaknesses could be exploited by you and the others with ease. When the storm died, so did the fight, the Kid Pirates the victors over both encounters and your cheers filled the air as the night skies cleared. Now that the waters were calmed the only thing on all of your minds now was the thought of an all out celebration. With everyone’s duties completed, you all cleared room on the deck and dragged out the barrels and bottles of booze and anything that was or could loosely resemble something to sit on. As the ship’s doctor you had to tend to those hurt-with thankfully just minor injuries- from both the storm and fight and were last to find somewhere to sit. You grabbed your drink and scanned the area already loud and infectiously in good spirits. Your gaze zeroed in on a spot and you closed the distance, sitting down on the deck and settling your back against Killer’s leg. 

Beneath his mask, Killer briefly glanced to see who was using him as an improvised support and couldn’t help but tense slightly to see it was you. You and Killer had a casual back and forth with each other. A flirty comment here, an affectionate touch there. Never anything heated, usually just the brush of fingers against the other when helping out in the ship’s duties or a brief placing of a hand on the other when either of you needed to get by in the usually bustling and hectic hallways and deck. Killer usually favoured his hand on your lower back and you favoured your hand on his upper arm. For you to settle against him shouldn’t have been a surprise or anything new by comparison but still Killer couldn’t help but be aware of your presence. Even while you were talking away to Wire and he joked with Killer it was hard to fully ignore how effortlessly comfortable it was.

Further into the night, you shifted slightly to get more comfortable, lounging back instead of just sitting, and lay your head back while you continued the conversations. The second you adjusted though, Killer’s hand instinctively settled against the back of your head; keeping you in your comfortable position and began to absently play with your hair. Kid faltered mid-sentence with his second-in command to glance briefly down to see you had already all but melted into Killer’s touch, your eyes growing heavier as you tried to focus on your conversation. Unfortunately in a matter of seconds you were out like a light and your nearly empty mug dropped with a dull thunk which caught Killer’s attention your way. 

Across the deck two other crew members burst out into loud laughter at their own conversation causing you you stir slightly. Swiftly Killer grabbed an empty bottle and threw it at their feet with precision that ensured they wouldn’t get hurt but definitely caught their attention. Nervously they looked towards their vice-captain who rose a finger to his mask in a clear signal to shush. Effectively everyone on board lowered their voices to a more respectable level which for anyone else would still be pretty loud but so long as you continued to sleep soundly, your unintentional guard dog of the night was content.

MARCO

Everything was calm on the Moby Dick as it usually was. As an Emperor’s ship as noticeable as his, practically everyone with any sense in their skulls left Whitebeard well enough alone. Night watches were merely a formality and mostly to keep an eye out in case a freak storm hit or another Emperor felt inclined to cause trouble out of boredom. Marco used the quiet of night to go over his medical stock and see to any last minute tasks that he couldn’t get to when the ship was rowdy in the day. In the middle of writing his list of what medicines and ingredients he needed to replenish, Marco stifled a small yawn. 

Not wanting to stop and leave the remainder of his duty for another night he decided instead to pause and go to the ship’s kitchen. As much as he tried to avoid drinking coffee after a certain time of the day he knew the caffeine would help. When he stepped out onto the deck he heard a yelp from above and lazily glanced up to see one of the younger and newer additions to the crew peer out over the top of the crow’s nest. They let out a shaky sigh of relief to see it was just Marco staring up at them blankly. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost-yoi.”

“I did!” The crewmate hissed, casting a nervous glance out onto the large ship’s deck. Marco tilted his head curiously and looked around the darkened deck. The moon was completely shrouded in cloud so the lack of light and chill in the air could be eerie to some, easy to let the mind play tricks on itself at this hour especially when alone. The pirate in the Crow’s Nest could feel Marco’s skepticism and bristled defensively. “I know what I saw! You have the powers of a mythical creature, you can't tell me ghosts don’t exist!”

“Didn’t say they didn’t” Marco chuckled with a lazy shrug. He’d seen enough strange and crazy things on these seas to encourage an open mind even after all of these years. Still though, a ghost on the ship was a new one. Holding back a yawn, Marco stretched his arms out and smiled calmly. “I’ll take a look around. If you see the ghost, just call okay?”

Without waiting for the response, Marco continued towards the kitchen, pausing by the door when he heard a faint creak against the floorboards. Slowly Marco looked behind him and around the corner seeing there was no-one there. Letting out a small chuckle, he shook his head and pressed inside only to suppress the curse in his throat and hold back the urge to jump in shock when the outline of a person was standing in the corner of kitchen. Flicking on the light Marco let out a small breath to see that it was you. “You’re playing the long game waiting in here and trying to scare someone-yoi.“ He teased lightly only to become concerned when you didn’t respond. Instead you remained in the corner. “Hey, you okay?”

Marco approached slowly and only saw now that you were asleep, eyes heavy lidded as you stared emptily at the wall. Now he saw you were sleep walking. Knowing better than to wake you, Marco approached carefully and gently set his hand against your wrist, lightly coaxing you to turn.

“Time for bed.” He instructed softly, smiling when you seemed to react enough to his words. Slowly you walked towards the door and Marco could see now why your movements could have been mistaken for a ghost on board. Marco’s smile twitched when you made the wrong turn after leaving the kitchen, needing him to softly redirect you with another subtle touch which thankfully set you on the right route. “There we go.”

For the entirety of the confusing, winding and slow paced journey you took through the ship Marco remained your vigilant protector. In your sleep induced state you seemed determined to veer in every wrong direction, even getting close to walking straight into one of the canons and potentially hurting yourself which you would have had Marco not been there to stop you. Finally he managed to help you into your sleeping quarters and assisted you into your bed, your body relaxing instantly. Exhausted Marco rubbed his eyes and headed straight for his own bed, managing to catch a couple hours sleep before the sun rose. 

As expected you had no memory of your sleepwalking adventure but approached him at breakfast with a bright smile. “Wanna hear what I dreamt about last night?”

“This should be good.” Marco grinned, unable to be in a low mood when you smiled at him like that.

“Dreamt I was lost in a maze.” You began. “No matter which way I went I just couldn’t get out. Next thing I knew, you were there and rescued me. Guess I can always count on you to help me out.” At that Marco’s smile grew. 

“Always.”

——————————————-

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