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skzdarlings · 11 months ago

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omg that sounds so fun!!!! (Sorry if this was quick I have your post notifs on) imma jump on this early!!! can we get “do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” W changbin? 😩😩😩

summary: you are in love with the son of your family's greatest enemy. he sneaks into your room one night after a party.

pairing: seo changbin/reader content info: petite!reader. mentions of past body insecurities. romeo-and-juliet style love affair. sneaking around. gun play that is somehow more romantic than kinky but still kinda kinky. explicit sexual content. word count: 2900 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

You catch his eye across the room.

There are a hundred people between you, bustling in their designer gowns and glittering in their jewels. The hotel ballroom is an incandescent chamber of silver light. The sun has long since set but the party plays on in its excessive splendour, never tiring of itself.

You are tired of it. The glamour of this lifestyle has turned more tedious than not. At the centre of all this majesty is money, and everyone in this room prioritizes their wealth and capital above everything else. They have fought and slandered and killed each other and they will do it all again, but they throw their galas nonetheless. Places to celebrate themselves and their so-called achievements, to flaunt their successes in self-congratulation. Everyone laughs and dances, spinning around the ballroom, sipping their champagne.

You smile and demur, pretending you are having a good time. You sit with your family and only interact with their trusted allies or those who would be.

He is vehemently not included in that.

Seo Changbin.

He is across the room with his family, your family’s greatest enemy. Your father and his father are titans of business and the family rivalry spans generations. It started with your great-grandparents and you are destined to uphold it. You will marry an appropriate man of standing, someone who will expand the empire, someone whose allyship is worthwhile in both the monetary and social strata. You will have children and raise them to take your place, to inherit your name and all the blood and money that comes with it.

Those same expectations are on your enemy. You hold gazes across the sparkling sea of people. You look away first.

You are coerced onto the dance floor by one of your father’s chosen men. You join that sparkling sea. It is always bizarre to brush elbows with these people, knowing very well they would not hesitate to put a bullet in your head under any other circumstance. You catch the sight of a few discreet weapons as you are twirled around the dance floor. Ostensibly, weapons are not allowed inside the gala as fighting is prohibited, but these people always take their precautions.

Your dance partner spins you. You twirl as per the dance, then stumble to a halt because Changbin is standing there. He is dancing with someone too, has them spun out the opposite way. You stand in the middle of the ballroom looking at each other, faces equally stoic.

He is dressed in all black, austere and intimidating. His black hair falls in a sweep across his forehead, just this side of too-long so it obscures his eyes if he tilts his head a certain way. He is always so meticulously hidden in public, nothing but a walking shadow. He is a dark reflection of his family and their grim reputation.

But his jovial laughter is in your mind, his witty quips, his jokester nature. He is devastatingly charming and endlessly humorous.

You would never know just looking at him. Changbin is not the tallest man in the room but he more than compensates with his bulk and power. Pretty much anyone would be big next to you, but you know what your hand looks like when laid against his, how all encompassing the breadth of his big arms feel when they wrap around you.

He does not touch you. He looks. He smirks, like he knows your heart is racing. Then he spins away. Your partner pulls you back.

The dance continues.

You say you are sick and leave the party early. You are escorted back to the house with your usual security flank, sitting in the backseat of your limo with a guard on either side of you. They wear bulletproof gear under their uniform, matching pale blue in the family’s colours, and wearing bulky glasses to shield their eyes. They are all armed to teeth, wearing their holsters and belts. They dwarf you almost comically. They do not speak to you.

When you reach the house, you go straight to your bedrooms. You have three rooms to yourself, each lonely space spilling into the next. You dress in your closet, leaving the gown pooled in a silk mess on the floor. You discard your jewelry and amble to your main room in a satin nightdress and robe.

You almost miss it, the sound so faint, but you swear a gentle knocking comes from your balcony doors. They are still sealed shut. Security did not notice anything remiss upon arrival, but there is a blind spot in the security camera on your balcony. There are no cameras inside your room for privacy purposes. But no one would know that unless you told them.

And you have only told one person.

You approach the balcony doors, wary. You peer into the night, eyes roving the grand expanse of the brightly lit garden and swimming pool. Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees and a security guard is finishing his round.

You step onto your balcony slowly. The security guard can only see you when you lean over. He waves at you before leaving the yard, continuing the rest of his patrol elsewhere. You watch him go.

The world is quiet as it ever is. You can hear the buzz of the pool lights and the tinkling of your wind chimes, little else. You lean against your balcony railing and look over the yard. You weigh the luxury of the estate against its cost. Not for the first time, you ruminate on how it is absolutely not worth it.

You sigh and turn. Then you freeze at what, who, you find.

You mistake him for a security guard for half a second, which nearly gives you a heart attack because they are never on your balcony. But he is just wearing one of their uniforms. You are not sure when he stole it, tonight or previously.

Seo Changbin stands there in the blue uniform shirt and gun holster, winking at you behind bulky glasses. He is pressed against the wall in the solitary blind spot, nodding his head to your balcony door. If you open it a little wider, he can sneak in undetected.

Like he has done a dozen times before.

You feign nonchalance for the camera, humming to yourself as you step into your bedroom. You push your door open all the way, positioning yourself in distracting view of the lens while he sneaks inside. Then you follow and slam the door shut. You both take a curtain and draw them together, meeting in the middle.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say. It is not what you want to say. You want to say, thank god you are here. I missed you so much. But that is an utterly foolish proclamation. You know better. You have always known better.

But the son of your family’s greatest enemy is standing in your bedroom anyway. He looks at you, at where you clutch your robe, at where you wet your lips. He removes the glasses and tosses them aside, as if to study you more closely.

“I shouldn’t,” he says. You cannot tell if it is an agreement or a question.

“No, you shouldn’t,” you say. You take a step back, because every second in his proximity only compels you closer. It is surer than a planet caught in a gravitational pull, threatened to be shattered by the sheer cosmic power of the star holding it in orbit.

He steps with you. When you take another step, he follows. Back and back and back. He feels big in this space. Even though your room is massive, his presence shadows your little world. When your back hits the wall and he looms in front of you, he is all you can see. Nothing else exists beyond him.

“Changbin, we shouldn’t be doing this,” you say, though you know it is useless to protest your liaison with any logic, because this is a matter of the heart and not mind. That rebellious heart of yours beats faster. “If anyone found you here… we’d both be in so much trouble.”

“I won’t let them hurt you,” he says. He speaks with such easy confidence, like it is a matter of fact and not hope. He says it so certainly that you almost believe him.

“You can’t promise that,” you say.

“Yah, shame on you,” he teases. “You know I always keep my word.”

It is true. Though Changbin has a formidable reputation, it has little basis in actuality. He is a man of strong moral principle. He does not like the fighting and brawling and warring. He does not hurt innocent people, nor does he put civilians at risk for the sake of a stupid business.

And he has treated you with more loving respect than anyone else in your life.

Of course you surrender to him, again and again, sighing now as you lean against the wall and release your robe. It falls open and reveals your little nightdress. His gaze dives down your body, igniting sparks inside you. You were once insecure about your appearance, taking to heart your mother’s admonishments, that you were scrawny and gaunt, nothing but a burden as they struggled to find a match for you.

It is no struggle for Changbin. He curses even though he has seen you a dozen times. He holds your hips, then runs his strong hands up your body so you shiver all over. He cups the back of your head and draws you close, like he intends to kiss you. You are ready for it, eyelids heavy and lips parting.

With his other hand, he reaches for his chest holster. You blink as he slowly draws the gun, as he brings it closer to you. It feels like your whole body turns to liquid heat, heart thundering as he rests the barrel so delicately against your temple.

“See, baby,” he says, “if they find us, they’ll blame me. What was a little thing like you supposed to do, ah? Fight me?”

You are breathing harder, already so hot with anticipation. You gasp when he tugs you closer still, the gun still tapping your temple.

His lips are so close to yours, they almost touch.

“Poor baby,” he says. “She’s so good to her family. It’s not her fault Seo Changbin climbed in her window and fucked her in her little nightdress.” He moves the gun, making your breath catch again. The barrel touches your lips then moves down, down. It brushes a sensitive nipple, then moves lower still. The cool metal brushes your inner thigh under your nightdress and your knees starting shaking, a delicious heat twisting in your belly. “Tsk, tsk,” he says. “No panties. Maybe it’s not my fault completely.”

“We really shouldn’t do this,” you say, but it is still not what you want to say. I want you, I need you, so so badly.

He smiles and lifts the gun again, all the way up to your mouth where he taps your lips.

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” he asks.

It is so funny; Changbin is holding a gun to your lips but you feel more safe than dancing among those people at the party. You trust him so completely, so irrevocably, that you do not feel truly threatened for even a moment. There is something so liberating and joyous in allowing your body to go completely lax, in forgetting all your many grievances for the short but blissful time you have with him. Your heart is so full you could burst.

You kiss the tip of the gun, then smile.

“Well,” you say. “What are you waiting for?”

He tosses the gun onto the bed so he can hold you with both hands when he kisses you. You moan against his lips. His searching hands are careful where he touches you, squeezing and loving. He cups the small curve of your breast in his palm, rubs there until electric desire shoots to every extremity.

You shrug your robe off and he wastes no time gathering you into his arms. He holds you so securely, picking you up with no effort at all. Then you are pressed against the wall with him pressed against you.

“Yes, yes,” you say, gasping, as he kisses down your neck. He hikes you higher, catching you effortlessly, guiding your legs around him as he kisses down to your breasts. He wraps his lips around a nipple through your dress, making you clench your thighs around him, which makes him giggle like the maniacal tease he is.

“You like that,” he says, and tugs your dress down to get his mouth on you properly. He is so good with his tongue. You feel a little giddy, thinking to yourself that it is his true weapon. Fast, precise, teasing you and working you until you are tugging at his head and grinding against him.

“I need you,” you say, breathlessly, “Changbin, Changbin—”

You seldom take your time, given the danger of the situation. With the house empty and both your families occupied, you have time tonight to go a little slower, but you simply cannot wait. You are both accustomed to instant satisfaction when together. Your body feels wrong without him inside it. You need him like a breath of air.

“Please,” you say.

You do not have to beg much. He fiddles with his belt and his zip, then he repositions you. You cover your mouth to catch your squeal when he pushes inside you. He moans into your neck to stifle his own sounds.

“Baby, so good for me,” he murmurs, sounding intoxicated from the silky feel of you, wrapped around him so completely.

You know the feeling. You are incapable of forming sentences, clinging to him desperately as he fucks you steadily against the wall. He holds you with just one arm, the other palm planted flat to the wall, near your head. You clutch his big bicep while your other hand sinks in the hair at his nape. You fuck until he is close, when he carries you to the bed and lays you out.

You lean forward and take him in your mouth, sucking him down until he comes. He bites his wrist to keep his volume down.

You wipe your lips, smiling. Then you sprawl back on the bed, nightdress turned to little more than a sash around your middle. You slide it off completely. Even though he just came, he is already looking you with hungry eyes. He puts a knee on the bed, evidently ready to pounce.

You pick up the gun and point it at him, quirking a playful eyebrow. He blinks at you, surprised, then smiles as well.

“Baby,” he says. “That wasn’t the plan.”

“Do you really think you’re in a position to give orders?” you reply.

It just makes him laugh. The sound makes your heart gush with sentiment. He looks so handsome and sweet, hair pushed back, a light sheen of sweat on his neck. He is still mostly dressed, tucked back into his pants, but they are open and slung low, his shirt all untucked.

He gazes at you with deep, dark eyes, nothing but affection on his face. He plays your game and strips his shirt off, then he crawls across the bed until he is close enough for you to rest the barrel of the gun against his temple.

“Go on,” you say, nodding.

Truly, his tongue is the greater weapon. The gun does not stand a chance, falling out of your hand, forgotten, as he descends between your legs. You feather his hair through your fingers, then dig into his scalp, riding the motion of his mouth as he licks and sucks and kisses you down there. You come with a shivering sigh, your legs shaking.

He lifts his head and wiggles his eyebrows. “Good?” he asks, to which you can only nod. “Ha-ha,” he says, lightly slapping your thigh. “Of course it was. It’s me.”

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes.

“You are incorrigible,” you say.

He climbs up your body and kisses you on the lips, tasting of you. It makes you whimper, delighted.

“I think you meant to say incredible,” he teases. “That’s okay, I understood you anyway.”

“I’m sure you did,” you say. Because there is a great deal of truth in that statement. You and him are on opposite sides of this ridiculous feud, but you are in exactly the same place. No one understands you better than him.

That understanding is written all over his face. He smiles tenderly, cupping your cheek in his hand. His next kiss is the definition of romance itself, sweet and long, enough to make you swoon.

“How much time do you think we have?” you ask.

“Not much,” he answers, then kisses you again. “Don’t think about it now. It’s okay, baby. I got you.”

“I know,” you say. You wrap your arms around each other and hold tight, kissing again while you can. The truth is, neither of you is in any position to dictate your fate. But he kisses you like that does not matter, with no past and no tomorrow on the horizon. You take control of this moment and consider it a happy ending for as long as you can.

#seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x you #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x you #valentinesdaystories #anonymous request

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ossidae-passeridae · 6 months ago

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Why Acolyte doesn't feel like a Star Wars story

Here it is: Star Wars is, at its core, a story about hope. And Acolyte doesn't have hope.

An explainer:

Star Wars has been around long enough now, and spawned enough media, that it can be classed as its own genre of work. Like any genre, this means it has conventions that authors/creators need to follow and be aware of in order for their works to fit within the genre. And the core conventions of the Star Wars genre are pretty simple!

a) There is a mystical power known as the Force, which some people can use, and

b) There are two factions - light and dark, good and evil - which are constantly fighting each other, and

c) Even in incredible darkness and overwhelming odds there's always hope for a better future.

(Obviously, like any genre, there's more specific tropes as well - there's a cute droid sidekick who's probably mostly Warcrimes by volume, somehow you're on Tatooine again, if you're in a cantina you're about to get into a fight, etcetcetc)

Within those conventions, there's an enormity of stories one can tell. Bildungsromans, war stories (both gritty and otherwise), romances, there's no shortage of options.

But you've got to keep to those conventions above. If you don't use these genre conventions when you're making your Star Wars story then... you're making something else. And that fine! But at that point it's not a Star Wars story anymore and people will be disappointed because they expected a meiloorun and you gave them an orange.

Andor is the obvious comparison to Acolyte, being a "gritty" series or whatever, but if you watch it it's clear from the outset that it's unambiguously a story about hope. It's drenched in it. The entire story is working towards a victory, and the sacrifices needed to get there are rendered worthwhile by the force of that light. We understand why it's important that the characters keep trying despite their suffering, because of the hope for a better future.

Acolyte doesn't have that.

As @intermundia put it here:

it was such an angry show, resentful and accusatory, full of liars and hypocrites, showing hope to be false and trust to be foolish

It doesn't even subvert the genre; that sort of narrative would build up hope only to crush it at the last minute. It simply doesn't seem to understand the world it's in. And for an Officially Produced Show, that's... certainly a choice.

#star wars #the acolyte #star wars meta #genre conventions #if you're going to subvert a genre in your work you first have to understand it #otherwise you can't play your narrative against it!#and there was none of that in Acolyte #the creators wanted to tell an angry and hopeless sci-fi story in a GFFA setting and that's nice and all but it's not Star Wars

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bloodstained-ballgowns · 6 months ago

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i just rewatched ‘the woman who fell to earth’ a couple of days ago for the first time since it aired back in 2018 and the more i think about it, the more i like it.

thirteen is the only doctor for whom i feel a tangible, rose-tinted nostalgia. she wasn’t my first doctor, but she was the first doctor i watched live, the first doctor that i spent an actual extended period of time with over the episode rollout. her intro episode has middling parts (as can be expected with most episodes of Who) but there’s also so much good that i really want to highlight.

first of all, there are some really great character dynamics set up here. much more interesting than i remember, tbh. ryan is a guy who loves mechanics but is stuck in a warehouse job he hates, a guy who obviously wants to connect to people, a guy who by the end of the episode has lost both his mother and grandmother in the space of a couple of years and the step-grandfather he didn’t really want is all he has left (minus his absent father). that’s interesting.

yaz has a keen sense of justice and this raw, intense yearning to help people, to do something worthwhile, something more - the way she has chosen to express that is through law enforcement, but it’s not quite giving her the satisfaction she wants. that’s interesting.

graham’s experience with cancer means that he constantly feels like he’s living on borrowed time. meeting grace gave him purpose, gave him family, gave him the will to fight when he fought it was all but over, but now grace is gone. he and ryan aren’t related, but they’re family, and now they’ve got to figure out how to care for each other without the very lynchpin that brought them together. once again with feeling: interesting!

“i’m just a traveller. sometimes i see things that need fixing. i do what i can.” i like that they circle back to the ‘just some guy’ portrayal of the doctor here, both because it’s the one i’m partial to and because it feeds particularly well into the whole ‘the doctor is an unreliable narrator’ aspect, especially in the wake of the increased deification in the moffat era. it's a nice set up, even if it gets completely overhauled circa series 12/13. in fact, having thirteen keep this as a persistent attitude throughout the Timeless Child of it all could have been really effective re: her reticence with her companions and refusal to address or deal with her past.

the scene where thirteen builds her sonic screwdriver might be one of my favourite sequences in nuwho. i love that it’s a hybrid of alien tech and sheffield steel. i also love that they highlight the ‘mad inventor’ side of the doctor here (her teleportation circuit is based around a microwave?) and wish that they had carried it forward more. it would have been the perfect basis for her to bond with ryan over. jodie also pulls off the humour of the episode well, considering the significant shift from moffat dialogue.

i enjoy thirteen's outfit: the vibrancy of it as mirroring her childish excitability, but also as another part of the mask - if i dress all colourful then maybe i can ignore/outrun/masquerade my great capacity for darkness! etc etc. the shopping trip with yaz and ryan is a bit shoe-horned in at the end but it's cute that she finds it in a charity shop. (back in 2018 i bought a t-shirt with a couple of stripes across the chest solely because it remotely resembled the one she wore lol. nerd from a young age, me.) jodie also looks soo hot in capaldi's outfit though so a spin on the traditional suit would also have been appreciated.

some miscellaneous points: i like that she tells Karl off (“you had no right to do that”) right after saving him. i like that she gets it wrong at first and makes it clear that she’s working on the fly. she’s following her instinct, and that instinct is to help people. doctor who has been beautiful before but the cinematography takes such a huge step this era. “it’s been a long time since i bought women’s clothes” i am choosing to believe this is about river thank you and good night.

#if you read all of this you are so brave and also i love you #accidental essay #'potential' is the chibnall era in one word tbh #excuse inaccurate comparisons i do not remember enough about this era and what they carry forward #thirteen #thirteenth doctor #doctor who #the woman who fell to earth #ryan sinclair #yasmin khan #graham o'brien

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duhragonball · 2 months ago

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Daima 06: Lightning

Centipedes? In my rations? It's more likely than you think!

Last time, Goku's group set out for the next leg of their trip, when the plane crashed. Apparently it wasn't that big a deal. Panzy concludes that they put too much luggage on board, which kept the plane from flying very far, but it didn't actually do much damage. Panzy recommends they leave a bunch of their supplies behind and she'll give the engine a look and they can be on their way.

Okay, I think there's a growing consensus among fans that Daima is slower-paced, and maybe this is setting up a controversy over whether this is a good or bad thing. Maybe the honeymoon period for the show is winding down, or we're just far enough into the series for the audience to realize it's probably going to be this way from here on. So I'll go ahead and weigh in on this.

For my part, I think the pacing is fine. It's different from the other shows in that you don't have this constant reliance on filler to pad the runtime. We're not checking in on King Kai to see what he thinks about all of this, or sending Goku on a fetch quest that ends up becoming a plot cul-de-sac. Instead, we're mostly laser-focused on this one set of characters on a journey, and occasionally we'll switch over to Gomah or Bulma's group on Earth, and pretty infrequently too.

But Daima does its own padding for time, and it does it by lingering a bit on things that probably don't need quite so much time. Conversations take a bit longer than they need to. The running gag where Goku gets Glorio's name wrong. The fight scenes are a tag gratuitous, but I think everyone gives them a pass because they're good. Still, I don't think anyone was worried about whether Goku could win that barroom brawl. If this show had half as many episodes allotted to the same plot, I'm pretty sure they could cut a lot of material and get the important stuff to fit.

I don't mind that much, because this relaxed pace kind of reminds me of reading the Dragon Ball manga. By that, I mean each episode kind of feels like a manga chapter, and not that much gets done in a single chapter. You might have several panels of characters getting to know each other, and then just enough exciting stuff to make the chapter feel worthwhile. Actually now that I think about it, it's a lot like my experience reading the Jaco the Galactic Patrolman manga. It's like twelve chapters, and the first five or so are very focused on introducing characters and situations, so it really doesn't pick up until the end, and even then, it's still quite low-key. But it's so good that I didn't mind it. It was just really chill. Daima feels a lot like that.

That having been said, I do find this plane crash between Episodes 5 and 6 kind of a cheap way to waste time. King Kadan described all the extra provisions he loaded onto the plane in Episode 5, then the plane started to go down and Panzy said it was the excess luggage. Then in Episode 6 the plane lands and Panzy repeats that the luggage was the problem, and she lists all the supplies all over again.

Then Panzy gets out her tools to run a diagnostic on the engine, but instead of actually working on the plane, she asks the Supreme Kai what his whole deal is. And that's fine, but it starts to wear thin in places. Like, they could have just had this conversation on the plane and gotten wherever they're going. The plane crash just adds time, and I'm not sure how many more times they're going to pull that trick before it gets old.

Nevertheless, I'd rather watch these characters talk about themselves outdoors than on the plane, so I'm not too worked up over it. But I can already tell this is going to be a focus for Daima critics in the future.

I like the way Goku explains the Supreme Kai. He tells Panzy there's a "bunch of god-like guys called 'Kais.' And the greatest one of them all is Supreme Kai-sama here!" and he gives him a hug while he says it, like he's bragging on a pal, which I guess he is. I just think it's nice to hear Goku's perspectives on all of his friends.

Panzy's impressed that Shin is a god, and that he made a smart move leaving the Demon Realm to take the job, but then she finds out he doesn't get paid, so it sounds less impressive to her. This kind of raises more questions than answers. Does Panzy even understand what a god is? Also, it seems pretty clear now that Shin and all the other Kais were born in Demon Realm and left to become gods in the Outer Universe, but how did that work? Did Grand Zeno put up a help-wanted sign? Were their other overseers that the Glind replaced when they became the Kais?

I just always assumed these guys were some sort of weird feature of the design of the universe. Like, there were always Kais running things, and they were literally born and bred to carry out that role. But no, they're just Demon Realm expats who showed up to work one day. If the universe functioned without them before, then why do we need them now? Hopefully this series will answer all of this.

Anyway, Goku's gotta poop, so he just announces this to everyone for no reason. He farted in Episode 3, so I have this sneaking suspicion that this show is going to do a lot of Goku poop-and-fart stuff as we go. That might be a good idea, as it keeps the show from getting too reliant on "Goku's hungry" gags. GT did those a lot, and it got pretty ridiculous. It got to where Goku would complain about being hungry right after he got done eating. If he said he had to poop half the time, at least it would cut the hungry gags down to a manageable level.

Anyway, Gomah's troops show up while they're waiting for Goku, so Glorio and the others have to play it cool to get rid of them. Glorio claims to be from the First Demon World, and Shin from the Second, but since Panzy's from the Third, they want to scan her collar, which she has under her scarf. Gomah apparently made all the Third Worlders wear the collars to make it easier to collect taxes from them, but he didn't implement this policy elsewhere, since the goons aren't too suspicious of Glorio or Shin. They find the idea of tourists traveling around the Third World strange, but let them go. Oh, and they ask if they've seen a kid with spiky hair and red pole, because there's a ten gold coin reward out for him.

Goku returns when they leave, and Shin suggests that Goku tie his hair back or something. Goku says his hair is too resilient for this. Oh, right, there was that Super episode where he had all that hair gel in it, and his hair sort of broke loose like when the Incredible Hulk rips through Banner's pants legs but not the crotch. Panzy asks if Goku washed his hands, and the answer to that question is no. Goku, that's nasty.

The gang take off again, and Panzy asks Shin if it's true that Glinds are born from trees. Shin confirms this, so I'm glad we're not doing away with that lore. I was seriously beginning to wonder if Toriyama forgot about all that stuff, or if he was dumping it in favor of new lore. Of course, this is all news to Goku, so the Supreme Kai explains how his kind are born "once every few centuries from the Glind Tree". There's a flashback to show this, and we see these trees with big purple trunks that are all fat on the bottom, and the newborn Glinds are in these holes in the bark, just hanging off of stems from their backs.

Also interesting to note: the Glind buildings and vehicles in this shot look a lot like Namekian houses and ships. I don't know if that's intentional, or this is just Toriyama's aesthetic for this sort of thing. I always thought Majin Buu's house looked a lot like Namekian architecture, for example.

So does that make the Supreme Kai and the other Glinds plants? I never really thought of it that way, so Goku raises an interesting point. Shin says he "doesn't know about that". I feel like there ought to be a firm answer to this, one way or another. Goku also asks if this is why Shin only drinks liquids and never eats, but Panzy jumps in before he can respond. I feel like we've seen Shin eat before, but oh well.

Panzy wants to know about Degesu, who works as Gomah's second-in-command. Is he Shin's brother? Yes, because he was born from the same tree about 216 years after Shin. Are all of the Glinds brothers, since they're all born from the same tree? No, because there's five Glind Trees. Kibito and the Elder Supreme Kai must have been born from one of the others.

Panzy wants to know why Degesu remained in the Demon Realm instead of leaving with the other Glinds? Okay, this implies that there was one Glind migration out of Demon Realm, and Degesu chose not to go. But for this to work, it must have happened after Degesu's birth, which is well after Shin's.

The thing is, Kibito is much older than both of them, and the other Supreme Kais from Universe 7 are even older still. I'm talking about the ones who fought Majin Buu and Bibidi like five million years ago. The whole point of all that was that Shin was the rookie Supreme Kai, implying that the others had been doing the whole god thing for a lot longer.

And then you have the Elder Supreme Kai, who's much, much older still. He claimed to be the Supreme Kai from fifteen generations prior. I'm not even sure what that means if they were all born from the same five trees. Maybe it just means there were thirteen Supreme Kais between the Elder and the current Supreme Kai. But Shin reigned as Supreme Kai for at least five million years, so these aren't short terms in office.

I'm not too worried about this, because I have to assume we'll get to an episode that explains the Namek and Glind exodus from Demon Realm. They keep bringing it up, so it must be important. And I guess this is what I mean when I say I don't mind the slow pace of this show. There's still a lot to look forward to, even if it's just characters swapping lore.

But back to Degesu, Shin says that he was very ambitious and didn't get along with the other Glinds. That doesn't seem like much of an answer to me. Then again, Shin came along on this mission because he hasn't seen Degesu in so long and he really doesn't know what he's been up to after all this time. He may not know a whole lot about him in the first place.

Panzy asks about a Glind woman who's a genius scientist, and Shin confirms that this is Arinsu, his older sister. Or, more accurately, they're siblings, since Glinds don't actually have genders, so they're not "exactly men or women."

Again, I had heard this about the "Core People" before, and I'm glad they didn't toss out this lore. I've never quite understood it, though, since the Elder Kai is big horndog, and the Supreme Kai of Time once got a big crush on Bardock in Xenoverse 2. Arinsu has big ol' titties, and I don't know how you get those if you grow from a tree. Like, none of these guys have anything to do with sex at all, right? The trees might have freaky deaky alien tree sex, but not the Glinds themselves.

Then again, I guess this is all just fantasy stuff, and I might as well be asking why Arinsu has nostrils or ears. There must be some magic that makes these trees grow people, and maybe some of them end up with big ol' titties or a magnum dong or both or neither. But until today I kind of figured all of the Kais were just completely smooth down there. Like they didn't even have buttholes.

Perhaps they modify their bodies at some point in their life cycle, and some of them present as man or women just out of a personal preference or some sense of fashion. This might explain the Supreme Kai of Time's transformation where she gets really tall and shapely. They all sit around figuring out what they want to look like, like they're screwing around with a character creator mode in a video game. Chronoa's like "Yeah, I want my base form to be all smol and cute, and then my super form's gonna have a big ass and big-ass titties."

Wait, maybe I'm onto something. The Supreme Kai gave Goku those pointy ears with remarkable ease. Maybe that's not a special weird power that only gods have. Maybe all the Glind have it and they do it to themselves all the time. Degesu just gives himself a third testicle for a week to "see how it rides."

Anyway, we don't learn anything new about Arinsu in all of this. She's a mad scientist who also stayed behind for the excitement of Demon Realm, but this was already known.

Night falls and Panzy explains that it's perpetual twilight on Third Demon World nights because there's two suns. Glorio wants to land and make camp in a cave for the night, and Panzy hates this because she wants to shower. Goku's like "skill issue, just never shower, like I do."

While Goku sleeps off dinner, Panzy asks why Glorio says he's from First World, when he looks like a Third World guy. He claims that he got hired by someone in First World, so he currently lives there. Who hired him? He deflects the question. Shin asks why he wants to defeat Gomah, and he claims it's because Gomah is evil, but Shin finds it odd for a Majin to have such a defined sense of justice.

Anyway, we find out exactly who Glorio's working for, because he phones up Dr. Arinsu while the others are asleep. But Shin hears him return to camp, so he clearly knows something's up, even if he doesn't know what.

By early morning, a minotaur comes out of the cave they're sleeping in, and he plans to eat them all. Apparently he stinks really bad. Goku isn't scared because he thinks the guy is a cow, so he doesn't get why this guy thinks he's on the other end of the food chain. Normally this is where Goku would kick some ass, but Glorio volunteers first, and Goku's like "Uh, I'm the main character, I should fight this guy." But Glorio doesn't see it that way, because he doesn't think Goku's that much stronger. Well, there's only one way to settle this, so it's on.

Yeah, the minotaur gets reduced to a spectator, and it's Goku vs. Glorio. Goku's impressed with Glorio's abilities, but we all know he's not trying very hard. Finally, Glorio whips out some purple lightning powers, and Shin asks Goku to fight harder so he can see the true extent of Glorio's power. I guess he figures that'll help him understand Glorio's agenda better.

So Goku fights harder, but Glorio manages to knock the Nyoibo out of Goku's hand, and he prepares to fire some big finishing lightning move. Goku decides to try something out, and he turns Super Saiyan. He did this briefly in Episode 5, but now he's staying in that form, and just stands there and lets Glorio shoot at him so he can try to deflect the beam. And he does. He just throws out his hand and it dissipates on contact. Goku does a little self-satisfied "Hmp!" and then snap-vanishes behind Glorio and puts his hand on his back. Fight's over, Goku wins.

This is a really great way to introduce Super Saiyan into the series. This is very likely the most iconic aspect of Dragon Ball. Maybe the Kamehameha clears it, but I don't think there's much else that comes close. So it's hard to imagine viewers who don't know anything about the form, but they're still out there and they need to know. So we have Goku fighting in base form, and then he decides to use it, not to win a hopeless battle, but to do something cool in a sparring match. Base Goku could probably have done something else to defend against Glorio's power, but Super Saiyan Goku can just tank the thing and get past Glorio's guard all at once.

It doesn't give away the entire Super Saiyan experience. It's a power up, and it shows a lot of promise, but here, it's just one of Goku's many techniques. The full extend of it can be shown off later. It's still an open question how well Goku can fight this way. He's been de-aged, and the environment in Deamon Realm slows him down further, so it's possible that he can't use Super Saiyan as long as he could before, or maybe he can, and it just doesn't give him the same boost that it normally does.

Also, it's just really cool to see Goku enjoy showing it off. He does this cool smile when he finishes transforming, and he looks all badass when he blocks Glorio's beam, and he's grateful that he can still do it in his kid body. "Yep, I'm whatcha call a legend, nbd. The missus doesn't like the hair color, but what're ya gonna do, right?"

Oh, right the minotaur. Well Goku hasn't forgotten him, but the minotaur suddenly remembers that he had a big dinner the night before, so he's too full to kill and eat these guys like he said he would, so he goes back to bed. Well, that's a shame. Maybe they should swing by this cave on their return trip.

Goku poop update: He has to go again.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Vegeta is doing reps on the Lookout while Bulma finishes the Supreme Kai's old plane. They all pile in to follow Goku to Demon Realm, but Bulma… stays behind? That's weird. Anyway, the ship lifts off, then immediately breaks down. It didn't even get twenty feet into the air. So that's another plane crash cliffhanger for you. I sure hope this show finds a more reliable mode of transportation soon.

#dragon ball #dragon ball daima #goku #glorio #panzy #supreme kai #degesu #dr arinsu #bulma #mr popo #the minotaur #i feel silly for tagging him since he seems like a bit player #but he's all over the opening credits like he's supposed to be a big deal #not a major supporting character but like... yajirobe-tier important at least #maybe he'll come back

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corazondebeskar-reads · 1 year ago

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live to rise masterlist (complete)

live to rise series - complete

gladiator!Din Djarin x f!reader

summary: The Last of the Mandalorians have fallen; their Mand'alor captured. Stripped of his armor, his weapons, his people. Din rises to fight another day, grasping onto the hope that his son still lives.

No fighter has won their freedom from the Empire's arena before. With the help of a servant girl, can he hope to break free?

dividers by @saradika-graphics

also on ao3

series completed on March 15, 2024.

warnings: dark, captivity, forced proximity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, prisoner of war, indentured servitude, fight to the death, au where the empire wins, discussions of genocide, discussions of war, graphic descriptions of violence, graphic descriptions of injuries, gore, brutality, torture, mand'alor!Din Djarin, major character deaths (not Din), many minor character deaths, tattooed!Din, bleeding heart!reader, Din has hearing loss, eventual smut, reader (eventually) has the nickname kar'talyc but he just calls you girl for a while lol, hurt/comfort, angst by the bucket, slow burn, no y/n

Please heed the warnings. There will be major & minor character deaths in almost every chapter. This is not a happy story, but I hope you find it worthwhile anyway.

spotify playlist

I: they'll find you, burn you

II. morning will come soon

III. won't give them that satisfaction

IV. where the light won't find you

V. a place that we once knew

VI. leave the lost

VII. not worth my soul

VIII. ashes of another life

bonus drabble: only to hurt, never to hold

completed March 15, 2024.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian fic #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #yes I did this to procrastinate writing lol

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strawberrysnoopy · 11 months ago

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ACT ONE: The Photo Shoot, part one

prologue

summary of the series: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

summary of this part: recalling the first time you and leon met, you've realized you've been poorly treated by your husband. leon is no different, in a toxic relationship with his wife, ada wong. as the seeds of resentment have begun to germinate, the desire for you grows like a brush fire nearby.

warnings: MENTIONS OF PUKE, BUT NOT ACTUAL PUKING, leon teaches you how to smoke (i don't wanna see no dumb stupid comments about "oh but leon hates smoking", well leon isn't disloyal but here we are), brief use of (adjective) girl (atta girl, good girl, silly girl), praise, mentions of misogyny (not from Leon ofc), awkward, tense ass convos, a fuckton of desc. and a little description, no sex (yet ;) ), cussing, descriptions of fucking, descriptions of masturbation, semi-public masturbation, almost caught masturbating, slight corruption kink (? if you squint), alcohol consumption, use of tobacco, smoking, implied sexual references, etc.

also a/n, writing this as of feb. 2nd, 2024: 60 notes?!!!!! i was writing this for my own personal pleasure but like...??!?! i got reblogged so many times?! im gagged, tysm you guys!!! making a playlist rn, so excited to release the soundtrack. if you see little random edits, i'm probably obsessing over the fic and trying to make it perfect lol/anticipate changes. i would also like to write I DO NOT CONDONE CHEATING! always communicate with your partner, discuss issues, etc. this fic is just a lil’ taboo type of fantasy, do NOT cheat on your partners.

The first time you met Leon was at a grocery store: two weeks before your husband would have any idea of his existence and one week before he had invited Leon and his wife, Ada, over for dinner. You were picking up a bottle of red wine for you and your husband under the guise of wanting something nice for date night. The reality would actually be you were buying it for yourself after your husband decides you're not worth his affections anymore, lazily mosey on over to the spare room, and pull out his phone to text other women. The wine would be something to drink to inebriate you while you watched a shitty re-run of a sitcom from the 90s. Maybe if you got lucky, Golden Girls was on.

He was only browsing, stumbling upon the liquor section and staying to look if there would be anything worthwhile. And there was. It was you. He knew he had to think of something witty, something cool people say, before you left and thought he was some creep staring at you because he saw a smidgen of your breasts in a magazine. "You're a famous model, right?" He asked. Oh, how stupid he felt. He was a chronic overthinker: thinking of every last terrible scenario, a trait he picked up after becoming an agent. This had certainly felt like one of the worst options he picked, especially with how you would-- You interrupted him. "Yeah, that's me." The subtle sweetness, the slight rasp in your voice was better than anything any street drug could offer with the amount of dopamine flooding into his brain: overloading every neuron, synapse, dendrite, and cell membrane in his body.

But for whatever reason, he stretched his hand outwards and lazily grinned towards you. "I'm Leon." "Nice to meet you. Well, I'd say my name but y'know..." He nodded in an awkward agreement before you could even finish your sentence, but not daring to go as far to interrupt you. He felt as if he already started off the conversation with a cumbersome beginning. "Right, right. So, that's your real name? I see a lot of models use stage names n' stuff like that." He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other, switching the hand holding his grocery basket from his right to his left. He felt so...awkward around you. Maybe it was the fact you were a famous model, or maybe it was the fact you were just so calm. The joke causes a soft chuckle to leave your lips and the mere look of a fleeting moment of bliss to cross over your features makes his knees turn into gelatin. Those nerves solidify into stone when the overwhelming sense of guilt hits him like a tidal wave but allows it to wash over him for the sake of continuing the conversation.

"Yeah, just my regular name. I'm not that creative outside of modeling. Usually the photographers do the thinking and the creative processes for me." He chuckled, shaking his head and barely moving himself a little closer. Leon wanted to sink in that gentle, warm, and soft presence you carried around with you. Your aura felt comforting: like a hug after a tough day: it had felt so much more different than his wife. True, Ada could be affectionate but that's usually only after something good has happened to her or Leon was her last resort of attention. He really hated how much he would act like an obedient dog, awaiting her arrival home, coming back to her after she's treated him like dirt. You? You felt so goddamn altruistic and considerate. And he's only known you for three minutes.

You notice he's gone silent and you're silently hoping he thought you were cool. Cool. Like a teenager trying to fit in. You silently cringe at yourself until he smiles at you, almost like he's signaling you to continue the conversation. You can't think of any conversation starters. And you're a model for gods sake. You're usually so outgoing and social with other people but now it's like a cat came by and stole your voice box. Thankfully, he takes over that portion for you. "Buying wine?" He knew it was dry as all hell but he wanted to steer the conversation away from him being a fan of your modeling gigs. No, he just wanted to talk to you and discover what you were like behind the camera. (Okay, and maybe he wanted to see if you'd flirt with him.) "Yup. But I'm just buying wine for..." You paused, about to say 'for me and my husband' but your throat becomes dry whenever you feel like you're about to announce it to him. "...Myself."

He smiles. He likes that you're awkward in real life. The fact made you feel more real, like you weren't just some sexy model with expensive tastes and a bratty attitude. You were a person like anyone else.

"Right. Me too, just uh...just browsing." You nod, fidgeting anxiously with the sleeves of the coat you decided to toss on last minute before leaving the house.

The conversation went on to end when you eventually realized you would be home late. Although you thought that worrying your husband a little would be the thing that reignited the spark in your marriage, you knew that punctuality was a habit you'd like to upkeep. That, and you also knew if you talked to this handsome stranger for longer, you'd cheat on your husband. That night, Leon had fallen asleep to the thought of you for the first time. Soft little visions of pressing his lips against yours, caressing your cheek softly and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, etc, etc, cheesy lovey dovey bullshit. So much more different than the truly filthy thoughts he had about you nowadays. You're torn from your conversation with your friends when you make eye contact with him. You can practically feel his eyes travel from the hair at the highest point on your head to the very last bit of your black, leathery heels with perfect pretty pearls embellished on the pump. For a moment, you feel like you're trapped in some type of horny labyrinth while you stare longingly at him.

He's ripped out of his own longing by the feeling of your husband's hand slapping his back. Ada sat beside Leon with her arm protectively wrapped around his bicep. You felt as if the gesture were a signal to everyone at the party that Leon belonged to her. He was under her control, nobody else's. Or maybe the protective message was for her husband, as if he was an unruly friend to her husband. And you could agree with that. You fell in love with your husband because he was wild and care-free but after the diamond ring was slipped onto your ring finger, you realized he was also carefree in the sense that hurt you: talking to other women behind your back, and leaving for days at a time only to come back inebriated. But you stood by his side, no matter what. You hated how you felt like a doormat but you didn't know what else to do besides stay married and play the role of an oblivious wife while your husband fucks other women in various positions. In a way, you and Leon sat in the same loveless boat. Who knew when that same boat would be shaking from the violence of the both of you fucking, clothing pulled out and to the side instead of being fully taken off. Your thoughts become interrupted by an unmistakably handsome voice.

"Hey."

You feel a hand being placed upon your lower back except it's so much more different than your husband's. The palms were rough, callouses inside the nooks and crannies, and pulsing veins make you all dizzy if you thought about it for too long. His voice was dampened with some undertone of lust, his fingers prodding into the skin of your sides. He's always been a little too handsy for a man that's supposed to happily married. But you always figured touch was how he communicates: touch. But he's never touchy with your husband. Or any of your friends. And he missed you? Sure, your're friends due to the fact your husband was friends with Leon. (Even though you met him first, but I digress.) The simple phrase had your mind reeling, cheeks flushed red due to the hidden intimacy of it all. His wife shoots him a look and his hand immediately retreats back to his side, fighting the urge to palm the engorged erection struggling against the seam of his boxers. "Haven't seen you in so long, hm? Thought you disappeared on me for a minute." He's holding his facade of being totally and irrevocably in love with Ada up and steady. Like he had no feelings for you other than being friends.

"Of course not." You murmur, feeling a hearty chuckle reverberate from his chest. He takes his index finger and his thumb and gently swiping it against your chin.

"Atta girl." And of course, with how hoarse his voice is, your panties are instantly puddled with a thick pool of arousal. You hate his stupid, thick, sexy, and deep voice. You especially hate his voice whenever you imagine him degrading and praising you whenever your husband was away and you just happened to have your hand down your underwear, playing with your clit to ease the throbbing impulses you felt for Leon. He gives your back a single pat before moving back to stand beside his wife. You really hate that you feel jealousy flare like wildfire within you, but you brush it off.

Everyone would eventually be drawn to the several dining tables that were arranged in a group and had golden candlesticks and smooth white tablecloths on top. Once you are seated, you observe that Leon appears to be striving extra hard to guarantee his place beside you. He looks right at you for a brief moment. And only then can you see, just a hint of thirst sprouting in his eyes, before he glances away from you and gives Ada a quick smile while patting her thigh.

It's only a few minutes before Leon decides to break the awkward silence.

"How's that modeling gig going?" You nod, gulping down way too much champagne.

"Good, been going good. Have to admit it gets a little boring posing in front of the camera after a while but can't bite the hand that pays you, right?" You joke, and the table laughs with some sense of jealousy. "Nice to hear. What was your latest shoot?" He asked, leaning forward in a sudden rush of intrigue. Then those words pass your lips. Words he had never anticipated, even in his wildest guess (oddly.)

"A lingerie shoot. For Chanel." The table goes quiet. And everyone, including your dumb-ass husband, look at you. Someone (Ada) clears their throat in the dining room, hinting at you to elaborate and it's almost like you suddenly developed to ability to hear from light years away.

Leon, who had just finally got his goddamn boner under control feels his cock twitch back to life, fully hard instead of a semi this time. And correct him if he's wrong, but he starts to feel pre-cum smearing his dress pants. He's thankful he chose the black slacks instead of his lighter colored ones otherwise this would be downright humiliating.

"Sorry, um...I did an intimates photo-shoot for Chanel a few weeks ago for their new line of clothing." That seems to help lighten the mood a lot more because everyone goes back to their conversation with their respective friends, the embarrassing "confession" from you immediately leaving their minds. "The theme was Overtime. Like, staying later in the office with my shirt unbuttoned and stuff. Nothing that interesting."

The table simultaneously nodded, Leon going as far to excuse himself for a cigarette.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go have a smoke." Leon scoots out from his seat, heading towards the upstairs balcony to take care of business. Asshole, leaving me with his mean ass wife.

You decide to join him outside.

The air had finally gotten too tense, felt too judgmental for your taste. Scampering outside, you're met with the sight of Leon smoking a cigarette outside. That's odd: you've usually pegged him to be the straight-laced, no-nonsense type of man yet here he was, smoking a cigarette while leaning against the balustrade of their friend's top floor home. At the sound of the balcony door opening, he turns his head to see what you're doing out here. His eyes scan you, almost like he would while he's in combat but it's more or less to get another glimpse of the outfit you were wearing tonight. Okay, and maybe he wanted to commit the sight of you to memory.

"You alright?" He asked, trying his best to look straight forward when you step closer and cross your arms over the balustrade.

"M'fine, just needed a minute of fresh air, I think." When you sit beside Leon, there's a few things you notice. The first was his outfit. A white button-up that usually would be covered by his black suit jacket, though he left it behind on his chair in the dining room. There's also mentioning his blacks slacks, fitting his muscular thighs a bit tight but loose enough so they're comfortable. Then there's the dress shoes, ones he wore at his wedding due to how overly formal they looked. Maybe he wanted to get some more use out of them? Who knows.

"What about you? Why are you out here?" You decided to be the one to take the reigns since the air outside had become incredibly awkward as well. "Same. Thought I'd take a minute of fresh air, you know?" The second thing you notice about Leon is how much he calms you. More importantly, how much you never noticed that you were anxious when you were around others. He had this aura of relaxing or maybe you were just buzzed, who knows that either? Maybe it's the cigarette, speaking of...

"I haven't smoked since college. Cigarettes, I mean. Don't think I even know how to do it anymore." The confession makes his head tilt to the side, now taking more of an interest in the conversation than before. He grinned wolfishly, taking your chin in one of his thick and strong hands and pulling your head forward. For a second, you could almost be dumb enough to think he'd be moving in for a kiss. Of course not. You'd never be that lucky. "Open f'me, sweetheart." And like an obedient puppy, you opened your mouth just enough so your pretty pink-shaded lips could be parted. He placed the cigarette on your lip, the moisture making the filter stay in your mouth alongside his index and middle finger holding it up, thumb brushing your chin. Little hazes of grey smoke dance along your tongue without even taking a sip of the smoke yet, your lips trembling with a lustful agony. "Now close your mouth..." He whispered, his damp and hot and horny breath hitting your ear like an affectionate declaration of love. "And inhale."

You close your lips around the cigarette, faintly tasting the flavor of him where he had sucked on the cigarette. You got notes of citrus, rum or some expensive, top-shelf label of whiskey he used to help quell the pain he experienced on grueling missions, tobacco, and maybe even the slightest hint of his wife's lipstick. Chanel's Rogue Allure, if you had to guess correctly. "...Now hold it..."

You held it. "Silly girl." He whispered, pulling the cigarette away from your lips while you slowly exhaled the rest of the smoke you've been holding in your mouth and then some. You can't tell if it's because of the alcohol, Leon's presence, or your mere anxiety but you begin to feel dizzy. Thankfully Leon seems to swoop in with his questions to keep your head in the game. Bless him.

"Why'd you need a minute, huh?"

For a minute there, you didn't know how to respond. Looking down at the leathery pumps you chose for the evening, you begin to wonder why you even chose them instead of answering his question. But you answered him. Eventually.

"I'm just tired. This whole night just seems a bit…” You gesture to the party in the background. “Fake. I don’t want to be here."

He hummed in agreement, but it felt like more of a signal for you to keep going. "I'm also just terrible at making conversation. Especially when it's awkward and silent."

His eyes flicker down to the pumps he'd already stared at tonight, not finding an interest in them anymore than your own body. He tucked his lip between his teeth, pulling the pink flesh away from his mouth before he spoke up again. "You're not that bad, you know? I think you're pretty good. How about this?" He pauses. Then a beat passes.

"Tell me something true. Tell me something you wouldn't brag to anyone about." He moved his cigarette to rest on the balustrade instead of the space between his fingers. "Something that's yours...and only yours."

You look at Leon with wide eyes, mouth agape as you struggle to answer his question. Your eyes rake down his face from the space between his eyebrows to his parted, pink lips: just a little chapped from the cold chill of the night air. You wanted to kiss him. All of those times you've had him over for dinner, all of those times you've spent with your hand down your panties while your husband was away on "business": dreaming of his best friend, Leon, and god, all of those times you thought about throwing caution to the wind and leaning in to press your lips against his: the sum of all of those moments had you quivering for more.

But you'd never cheat. You have a reputation. You have a husband that gifted you the pretty diamond ring on your finger. But how did it always feel so...impossible? Like you couldn't live another day if you weren't able to fuck Leon like a rabid dog in heat. But he was staring at you, almost as if his eyes were laser beams and searing holes into your skin: you had to answer.

"I don't know what I could tell you that's only mine." You chew on your lip. "Huh. How about..."

How about the fact I wanna kiss you? I wish it was you I was in bed with rather than my stupid, cheating husband? The fact you are so much hotter than him?

"I hate being a trophy." And that brings the biggest grin on Leon's face. A massive shit-eating grin. Leon had gone stir crazy. He wanted to peel your entire being open, see all of the nooks and crannies of your soul and devour it whole. But now wasn't the time to scare you away: even if he wanted to fuck you, you were still a friend to him. So he calmed down. "I can't say that's too surprising. I mean, who would? Being able to be pretty and have money being tossed at you is nice until you want something deeper. Then it seems like one of the only things that are scarce in your life."

You nod, letting out a breath of consolation. "That's exactly how I feel. Like my only purpose is to sit still, look pretty, serve my husband, and be a hole when he needs it."

His eyes become downcast, looking down at the garden on the ground level of the restaurant. "I get what you mean." The moment was interrupted by a waiter peeking out on the two of you: head poked outside of the door that lead to the outside area. He pulls his hand away from your soft skin and back to his side, sighing wistfully that tonight wouldn't be the night he gets to act on his desires for you. Damn it all to hell.

"You should head back. I'll be back, yeah?" You nod and within a few seconds, you've returned to your spot at the dinner table. He sighs, hand slipping down to palm at his erection. Fuck. Can't go back like this.

Just resist. You're just another woman. You have a husband, He thinks to himself, I'm married to a lovely woman. I am a faithful husband. The silent mantra he practices on himself works about as well as a band-aid on a bullet hole. Resist. God, but you looked so pretty tonight. That cute jewelry set you wore with your little black dress? Hot. The smoothness of your skin?

Resist.

But he can't stop picturing you on your knees in front of him, sucking on his cock. The sounds your perfect, wet mouth would make. How he'd ease himself down your throat. How you'd whine.

Resist.

Or how about when he could be fucking his cock into your tight, wet, and warm cunt? The tip of his dick kissing your cervix? Or what about the positions he could force your body into? Like having his arm around your throat, bicep curling into your mouth to muffle your moans from his wife hearing? Or how one of his hands would be gripping your hips while he needily plowed into your pussy, while you begged him to let up. Resist.

Resist.

Fuck it.

In the few moments after he's excused himself from you, he's already rushing to the upstairs bathroom of the restaurant: thanking the holy beings above for making it a single stall bathroom for his jerking pleasure. He hastily unbuckles his belt with one hand, other hand impulsively opening Twitter as a first resort to find some fashion fanatic post about the slutty lingerie photo-shoot you did for Chanel. Alas, you're still a bit of an undiscovered goddess in the modeling industry at the moment: so Google is his next best option. He pulls out his half-hard but hardening cock from his jeans before he can even find your photo-shoot and gives it a quick few pumps to ease the throbbing that's starting to build up in his loins. Eventually, he finds it. Thank fucking god because the creativity for his fantasies are beginning to run quite dry. And instantly he's grunting and groaning while he strokes his cock and scrolls through the multiple scandalous photos the photographers took of you.

"Fuck." He winces in pleasurable agony as he stares at quite possibly his favorite photo of you. The photo was in black and white: theme being "Overtime" like you mentioned. The white button up shirt was undone, revealing you had nothing on underneath, and allowed for the side of your perfect breasts to be revealed. If he squinted just a little harder, he could see your puffy nipples threatening to peek out of the shirt. He tried squinting a little harder to see your nipples a little easier. And oh my god. You have piercings?! He almost shot his entire load on the spot. God, he needed to fuck you. And hard. He groans as he feel himself get closer to orgasm. Closer, and closer, until--

"Leon?"

Fuck. It was you. God, of course you're so goddamn sweet, checking up on him to make sure he's okay. He didn't dare stop stroking himself off, especially not when he's got jerk-worthy material of you almost catching him. That's also not mentioning the soft intonations of your almost innocent voice right there. He's trying not to cum too quick, wanting to savor those images for as long as he could but he also realized his wife might start asking some questions and she wouldn't be on the other side of the door if she came upstairs. "F-fuck, yeah?" He responded after much too long of hearing your sweet voice. "Did you need something?" "Are you okay? I just got worried when you left. You've been gone for like..." You check your wristwatch: a classic and dainty Timex from the 80s with a blank band that wrapped around your wrist snugly.

"Fifteen minutes. Do you need water? Ibuprofen?" He shakes his head as if you could see him while he continues to jerk himself off, hand swirling in a sort of cranking motion as he tries to work his cock to orgasm. But his pre-cum isn't coming out fast enough, not as fast as the pumping motions his hand was doing right now, so he spits in his hand before bringing his palm back down to his cock and lathering his dick in spit. You believe him enough to think he might be getting ready to vomit.

"Nah, jus'...ngh, drank too much, I think." Please keep talking, He selfishly thinks to himself. "Oh, okay. Well, if you need anything, just text me?" He nodded, grunting out a thank you while he continues to dream of ruthlessly fucking you until you're embedded into his mattress. He wants you. He needs you. He feels himself get a little closer until he finally releases into his fist. His hot and sticky cum ran down his palm while the waves of post-orgasmic bliss and post-nut clarity simultaneously moved together as one. For a few minutes, he's panting like a rabid dog in heat until his breath eventually stills and he's able to walk downstairs and look his wife in the face while giving her the impression that he definitely didn't just masturbate to his best friend's wife. When he sits down at the table, the first person he makes eye contact with is you. You smile at him, mouthing a "you okay?" because, of course, you're still worried about him being sick. He nods with a grin peeled onto his face. Because he came to the sound of your voice. And you didn't have a fucking clue.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

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coralinnii · 2 years ago

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I love the villain scorned by the world feat: Azul genre: drama note: continuation of reincarnated into a new world as the bad guy AU Azul ver, not gender specific reader, no pronouns used, use of non-canon characters (Neveah), 1.4k word count

I know people wanted to see more of the female and male lead’s downfall but Azul’s story has so much potential for drama that I just can’t skip it. This is more of an interaction between villain/ess!reader and the female lead and things are getting interesting. There’s more to the story

Is it funny that the more I write Azul’s villain/ess!reader, the more they’re starting to be like how I think Jade would act…just sassier

You became the talk of the kingdom for quite some time and you weren’t surprised. You had your engagement annulled and disowned from your family but you managed to disgrace your former fiancé the prince and his lover with their affair. Instead of a fallen noble, you became a surviving noble who became a victim of unfaithful love. All according to your plan.

Free from your downfall, you find yourself living in comfort in your own house close to Azul. The royal family and your own parents have requested your attendance but you declined their letters, playing your victim card to the fullest.

“Oh no, how could I possibly return back to the palace where I had my heart broken?” “My family disowned me. The least I could do is respect their wishes” Good riddance to that stifling environment.

You did notice that you never once received a letter from the young prince, the male lead though you would scoff and burn it if he did anyway. You figured that he was too prideful to address the affair with you. He wasn’t regretful for his actions nor was he regretful he got caught. The original series seriously had a bad cast.

Though it could also be that since the disgraceful act the male lead was sentenced to house arrest to “reflect on his actions”. From your sources, he’s just been angry all this time, especially when he hasn’t been able to meet with his beloved.

Speaking of which, the female lead has been busy through all this fiasco. Crying and spinning the tale of how she was a helpless victim in this mess as well, saying how she was clueless throughout everything since being so new to the noble society.

Please, Jade has better acting skills than she does. You supposed you could commend her for her guts.

Like how she was gutsy enough to visit you in your own home.

“I’m so glad you’re willing to meet with me” Neveah smiled but you didn’t return the smile, choosing to sip your tea.

“You should be glad, considering I probably would have ignored you” you replied indifferently. “It just so happens that I wanted to ask you a few questions”

“Oh? What kind of questions?~” That exaggerated childlike tone of hers really rubbed you the wrong way.

Fighting through your irritation, you questioned her “I’ve heard that you’ve been attempting to meet with Azul for the past few days. Curious since you two aren’t even acquaintances”

“But, we are! Me and Azul are really close~”

“That’s not what Azul says, and you will address him as Count Ashengrotto” you rebuked her claim, a little snippier than you wished but your patience is not unlimited and the ditzy lady is truly testing you.

Azul mentioned his troubles to you when you asked about the visible stress on his face. Apparently he has unfortunately been bumping into the female lead at his businesses and she has been trying to interact with him, even offering to have tea with her…in his own restaurant.

“Tricking her would be akin to taking candy from a child, but even a child is more worthwhile than speaking with her” Azul sighed in aggravation with his brows furrowed. You kept a sympathetic expression but you felt a sense of joy over the silvernette’s words. There’s nothing wrong in secretly taking glee in your crush sharing your disdain over the same irritance, right?

“Perhaps you should take a short rest, Azul” you suggested, “This stress will do you no good and you can’t afford to make mistakes due to your clouded mind”

Azul sighed but nodded “you may have a point”

“Would you like to rest on my lap? I wouldn’t mind after all”

“You-!”

Refocusing your attention away from your memories, you sharpened your gaze at your uninvited guest. “Considering Azul is someone dear to me, I worry about your intentions in approaching him”

Then, the situation took an interesting turn.

The young lady in front of you, undeterred from your stare, smiled brightly which some could compare to something angelic…to some. But her words did not match her innocent appearance.

“Are you worried that I would approach Azul the way you did?”

You didn’t break your expression but you must admit you were close to. Is she insinuating…

“Isn’t it weird that the famously lovesick fiancé of the prince suddenly changed?” Neveah questioned, putting on a confused pout on her lips. “No explanations, like a whole new person. The story has changed”

Oh, how interesting.

“So you’re interested in me” you finally smiled back “What can I say, I realized one day this was not my love story so I decided to change my ways”

“Is that so?~”

“Yes. But back to the topic,” you took control back of the conversation “You haven’t explained your reason for approaching the count?”

Whatever calculating look you thought you saw in the female lead disappeared as she smiled even brighter than before, fully committing to her innocent appearance.

“I just felt so bad in interfering with your engagement that I’ve been avoiding the prince in respect for you, not even replying to his letters. Then maybe you can reinstate your engagement with your beloved”

My beloved? You truly had difficulty not outright laughing out loud over that idea. But it was an interesting tidbit the female lead gave, knowing that the prince has been sending her letters meant that those two are still in contact. Just because she said she doesn’t reply, she could still be reading them.

“I’ve been trying really hard to forget the prince so I’ve been visiting the Monstro Lounge to get away” she continued her story, managing a tear from her eyes. “And I’ve been seeing the count there so I thought we could be friends”

So this is how she’s been fooling the masses. You’re willing to admit that she’s definitely a better actress than you initially give her with her sweet words and unassuming “innocence”. But you knew the story she conveniently left out.

Breaking the engagement between the royal family and your (ex)family of duke status, the male lead has been in hot water ever since as his reputation has affected him to the point that his right to the throne is in jeopardy. Azul on the other hand has been making a name for himself and his value in the kingdom is very attractive to many pursuers.

“How shamelessly greedy of you, Ms. Protagonist” you smirked at the female lead who continues to put on a sweet facade, you commend her ambitions at least. She really wants her happy ending.

But you’re done with this conversation already. You got your answers and have no interest in keeping company with this eyesore for any longer.

“That’s all I need to hear, I believe it’s time for you to leave” With that, you waved to your guards who were standing by to escort the lady to the door.

“Wait, then will you take the prince back? And convince the families to restore the engagement” Neveah quickly asked you before she was ushered. Ah, so that’s why she came to see you. You never did bother to ask…or care.

“Firstly, I don’t have the habit of picking up trash I already tossed out” you calmly stood up from your seat, smoothing down your clothes of creases, and gave a smile towards the female lead before speaking again “Secondly, I’m simply respecting what you said to me. Do you remember? You couldn’t stop from loving who you want”

You watched Neveah stutter and stumble, trying to find the right words but you weren’t interested anymore so you proceeded to leave the room first with some parting words before your guards walk the female lead out of your home.

“I’m letting you love the prince like you said you wanted, and I’ll love who I want, and I intend to fight”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst scenarios #villainess au #twst imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #twisted wonderland x reader

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alwritey-aphrodite · 1 year ago

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There’s Nothing Like This

(Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince)

a Jamie Tartt x fem!footballer!reader story

When you get an offer to play for Richmond’s new women’s team, you don’t think twice about accepting. It’s nothing like you expected, especially not the men’s team’s star striker, Jamie Tartt.

Completed Main Series:

Prologue: Never Looked Back

Chapter One: Sweet Like Justice

Chapter Two: Take The Moment

Chapter Three: Putting Roots In My Dreamland

Chapter Four: A Bitch Not A Baller

Chapter Five: Paint The Town Blue

Chapter Six: The Worthwhile Fight

Chapter Seven: From Friends To This

Chapter Eight: That’s My Whole World

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt fic #jamie tartt fluff #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #there’s nothing like this

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throneofsapphics · 11 months ago

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have your little girlfriend, part 6

poly!Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: “Aren’t I safe with you?” Maybe the words were a bit bitter, a bit manipulative, but right now she didn’t care. Neither of them would do anything to her when she was hurt like this.

Warnings: darkish aelin/rowan, mental health struggles, forced medicating, implied sexual content

Word Count: ~2.6k

A/N: a short one but I promise it's not abandoned, there should be about two more parts, and I have them vaguely planned out!

series masterlist

Soft moss caressed her feet as she ran through the woods, into the dark night’s welcoming embrace. The sweet night air welcomed her, the trees whispering in her ear; faster.

Sharp and icy wind knocked her to the ground, sending her tumbling over and over and over.

Launching forward in bed, her breaths came fast and heavy - pain lancing through her body. Rowan’s hands were warm on her skin, tugging her into his embrace. The same wind, gentler, cooled her neck.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, arms tightening. Wincing, she tried to wiggle out of his grip.

He let her go, and snatched a tonic from the bedside table. The color gave away which one it was.

Ignoring the pain, she rolled away. “I don’t -,” another lash of pain, “need it,” she gritted her teeth.

“Bullshit,” he sounded tired. Hopefully too tired to fight her. She should’ve known better.

Footsteps, and a smaller hand pushed hair away from her face. Aelin frowning down at her. “You need it, petal.”

“I don’t.” Her hand ran over her hair again, and she sighed, melting into the touch.

“Yes you do.” Rowan said from behind her. Fists clenched the sheets.

“I said I don’t.”

She was frustrated for several reasons. One, she hadn’t had a minute alone in what felt like years - really it was only a few weeks. Two, those damn tonics numbed her, put her right into a heavy sleep. Three, they hadn’t ‘allowed’ her to do anything that felt worthwhile. No going back down to her workshop, no walking into the forest or through the city - even when the tonics did their job. All she got was brief walks around the private gardens, ushered through secluded passages, and rare contact with anyone beside them. So, she’d made a personal pact with herself. Until she had a promise she could leave the fucking castle, that same day, she wouldn’t take a tonic. At this point, she’d take even an hour away from her new prison.

That started three days ago, but the pain started to feel good. It reminded her she was still alive, that everything was real. Thank the Gods she’ll only have to settle once. Sure, she’d heard of the physical effects - but nobody mentioned how much it scrambled their emotions. Maybe that was only her, she didn’t want to ask.

“You know it’s not safe for you to leave,” Aelin said softly. She squeezed her eyes shut again as another pain shot up her spine. It was always worse at night, especially when the nightmares came.

“Aren’t I safe with you?” Maybe the words were a bit bitter, a bit manipulative, but right now she didn’t care. Neither of them would do anything to her when she was hurt like this. Maybe Rowan was making a tally for later, but that was a problem she’d face months from now. Aelin sighed before sitting, pulling her head onto her lap, fingers running through her hair. She could’ve purred.

‘We should just take her,’ Aelin said to him. He glanced down at the figure, body still curled in tightly, even with Aelin’s fingers running through her hair. Every protective instinct roared against it, especially with her so vulnerable in the first few weeks. Somehow, he hadn’t given in during her little three day protest. If they gave in, she’d either be pacified for a while, or start pushing for more. He’s well aware it would be the latter.

‘We need to wait at least a month.’ It was Aelin’s first time watching someone else go through this, and it’s different than experiencing it. Part of him felt bad, Aelin only had him to deal with during hers, but she had both of them. That part was heavily outweighed by satisfaction that she had two people to protect her.

Could she go a whole month without giving in? Probably, but there’s no fucking way he’s letting her go that long without one.

“Take it, and in one month we’ll go out.”

“No deal.”

Looking at Aelin, they both knew what they needed to do - and she’d probably hate them for it, at least for a little while.

Easily, Aelin picked her up and shifted her in her lap, arms holding her back flush against her chest, legs crossing her to pin hers. She realized what was happening a few seconds later, and started squirming.

Rowan had already moved, his hand squeezing her jaw, prying it open and tipping the liquid back down. She spluttered, but his hand was already holding her mouth closed. Cheeks puffed, she refused to swallow.

He called her name as a warning. She still didn’t. Rolling his eyes, he pinched her nose shut. Eyes widened, and she tried to hold out. Her face reddened, eyes revealing just how furious she was, but the need for air overtook her, and he watched her throat bob.

All sorts of foul curses, including ones she probably just invented, left her mouth as he released her, still thrashing in Aelin’s arms as his wife held her steady. It was easy enough for Aelin to hold her, and wait until she’d calmed somewhat - until sleep started to overtake her eyes.

“I hate you both,” she murmured, before her eyes finally closed. It didn’t phase him. Rowan didn’t care if she hated him now, as long as she was safe and free of pain.

Even after she fell asleep, Aelin continued to hold her - stroking her hair, arms, anywhere that might bring a bit of comfort.

Everything seemed more extreme for her. Emotions included, she’d been … unstable, and it didn’t help that she had her breakdown directly before this. Settling was different for each person, but Rowan hadn’t seen anything quite like this before.

She woke up pissed, fully aware of what happened right before sleep overtook her. Truth be told, she’d expected something like this, but it didn’t make her any less angry. She felt violated. Was there any line they wouldn’t cross? No, not when it comes to her and her safety. That disturbed her more than she cared to admit.

In her current state, she couldn’t go anywhere, but once she was well again? Would staying or leaving hurt more? Well, if she left they’d track her down and drag her back here, and then she’d never taste freedom again, unless they allowed it. She winced at her own thoughts, Aelin and Rowan weren’t that bad.

Blinking her eyes open, Aelin was standing a few feet away - assessing her. Checking if she’d bite, probably.

“I’m mad at you,” her voice was rough with sleep - and she wasn’t sure why she said it, maybe she wanted the air clear, for them to know exactly where they stood with her right now.

“I figured,” Aelin seemed to think it was safe to take a few steps towards her, reaching out her hand. Looking at it, she felt the desire to spit, but settled for rolling to her other side instead. The hurt came through the bond, and she ignored it. Good, maybe Aelin could feel a fraction of what she does right now.

Gods. That doesn’t sound like her.

Launching up in the bed, she held her head in her hands.

“Are you hurting?” Aelin asked, ignoring her not-so-subtle request for distance and taking a seat next to her on the bed, close but not touching.

A shake of her head, and a quiet, “no.” Silence settled over the two of them, and she had the sudden desire to actually speak. Instinctually, she knew she could trust her mate. Maybe she’d regret saying this later. “My mind … it feels wrong, like it doesn’t belong to me.”

Aelin shifted closer, their shoulders now touching. “Does it feel like someone else is there?”

Does it? Like someone is messing with her mind. She ran through her body, trying to assess for anything malignant or out of place. Nothing. Another shake of her head. An indistinguishable wave of emotions flooded through her - such a twisted mess she couldn’t pick one from another but only had the desire to get it out, to fend it off by any means necessary.

Vaguely, she heard Aelin calling Rowan’s name, heard the door open.

She seemed fine one moment, and the next she’d started hitting the side of her head. Aelin grabbed her hands, holding them down but then - she felt her magic. Like an ancient beast writhing inside of her, trapped and trying to find a way out. She yelled for Rowan, and as soon as he entered a shield of flames surrounded the room. Keeping them and her magic inside.

Was she keeping her safe, or keeping the world safe from her? It didn’t matter, not now.

Rowan’s hands gripped the sides of her head, forcing her to look at him. “Bring it back in,” he snarled softly.

He held firm, even as she tried to pry his hands away from her face, nails leaving small red marks behind. Not enough to draw blood, but enough for a slight sting. He was aware how easily he could hurt her, and slid his hands down, gripping her wrists instead, straddling her thighs.

Her body fought him, but her magic didn’t touch him or Aelin - only wreaking havoc on their surroundings. Rowan tried her name, again and again. When nothing worked, he gave a silent plea for forgiveness.

The air ripped from her lungs, he watched her face grow red, her body to the brink of unconsciousness, before the magic stopped - abruptly, leaving the room feeling distinctly empty. Forcing air back into her lungs, she hovered on the edge of barely awake.

“Stay awake for me,” he gently shook her shoulders. He didn’t notice Aelin had crawled up next to them, her hand now brushing the hair away from her face.

“Come back to us, love,” she murmured.

Slow and heavy blinks, he watched her eyes focus, taking in her surroundings. His hands were still holding her in a sitting position, and once he was convinced she could sit on her own, he let go, shuffling slowly off her. Rowan wanted to be out of the striking range, just in case.

There really wasn’t any line they wouldn’t cross - not when it came to hers or their safety. Abstractly, she should thank him - he did her a favor, keeping her magic from completely destroying the surroundings. In reality, she didn’t thank them. That would feel dishonest, and she didn’t feel like being a liar today. Did it make her a petulant child? Maybe, but her entire autonomy had been stripped from her over the last few weeks and she was sick of it. They took it in their hands to make all of her decisions, to decide what she could and couldn’t do.

Insane. That’s how she felt. Like she was holding desperately onto the last thread of her sanity, clinging to it like a lifeline. Was it possible for Fae to go completely insane while settling? Maybe. It looked more likely by the day.

“I didn’t like that.”

Aelin snorted. “Neither did I.” She shot her a puzzled look. “In Wendlyn,” she explained, “I came close to a … burnout, of sorts, and he did the same thing to me.”

For some stupid reason, it made her feel a bit better.

“You should get some sleep,” Rowan’s voice was gruff. She shot him a particularly withering look, and his mouth tightened but he didn’t comment.

Aelin, instead, reached over to a side table and plucked two books, passing one to her. She’d bought two copies of the same book for them, and somehow exercised enough patience to read at the same pace as her.

“Don’t you have things to do?” Aelin told Rowan. Probably things they both should do. His eyes rolled, but he pressed a kiss to both of their foreheads before heading out the door.

She let Aelin fuss and arrange the pillows around her, before they both settled into the book.

Her mind was still scrambled, head still dazed enough it was difficult to focus on the words. Eventually, she - gently - tossed the book aside and leant her head on her mate’s shoulder. “Read to me,” she said, adding a “please.”

A soft laugh, but Aelin’s comforting voice filled the room, putting inflections in the right places, painting a clear picture in her mind. This, she should ask her to do more often.

Rowan woke to her the sweet scent of her arousal, like the first bloom of spring. His eyes shot open, meeting Aelin’s stare. Turquoise eyes were filled with amusement, she squirmed between them, nightdress ridden up, thighs rubbing together.

It had been painful, but necessary, keeping themselves from touching her the last several weeks.

Soft and gentle moans left her lips, laced with frustration.

‘We really should help her,’ Aelin’s eyes met his.

‘Wouldn’t want to leave our mate unsatisfied.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘Be gentle,’ he cautioned, ignoring his wife’s glare and switching his attention back to her.

A month passed, and the days switched between dragging each second out and passing in a semi-aware haze.

“Do you want to get out of the castle?” Aelin asked, not seeming keen on the idea, but y/n nearly threw herself off of the bed, Aelin moving quick enough to steady her with a soft chuckle.

“Yes,” she repeated, “yes, yes, yes.”

Begging for basic freedoms? She shut the voice out.

They took a secluded exit out of the castle. The sun was barely cresting over the horizon, the cool air filling and refreshing her lungs. She was aware of Aelin watching her every reaction, her hand clutched around hers, but she didn’t care at this moment. There would be time to analyze it later, for now she’d take the temporary reprieve. The streets were near empty, but she didn’t mind. After this much time … alone, she figured it might be a bit overwhelming to see several people, and even she could admit her magic was erratic at best.

The longer she spent trapped in their room, the more time she had to think, and the more dangerous her thoughts grew. Sometimes she thought they underestimated her, maybe thought she wasn’t quite on their level of intelligence, a feisty little creature that would eventually cave to their wishes - even if it took some time.

They’d quickly proven there were no limits when it came to her, and that idea, that they would keep her locked in a tiny box in name of her safety, started an itch all of her rationalization couldn’t stop.

The smart choice would be to talk to them, but the last time she tried that everything shattered around her. Instead, she dreamed and planned. After she got through this, she’d be immortal - filled with endless time to wait before she acted.

Her head lay on Aelin’s chest, her fingers running through her hair, a book propped in her mate’s other hand.

Sweet moments and memories fluttered through her mind, but she forced herself to remember the others. Their trust in her was fragile, all she needed was to build it back up again. She didn’t think of the after, only of the freedom. It became her only goal, the one thing occupying her idle mind.

The door shut gently, and she lifted her head, Rowan’s frame filling it. His mouth curved into the slightest smile seeing the two of them, striding over towards the bed.

“You’re dirty,” Aelin snapped at him. His eyes rolled before meeting hers.

‘Did I miss something?’

‘Something with the book, she’s been on edge,’ she answered silently. His brows rose, but he knew better than to try to interrupt again, and headed towards the washroom.

She forced the guilt deep, deep down, letting sleep take over instead - exhaustion still filled her, the effects of her settling lessening, but still present.

taglist: @wallacewillow0773638 @inloveallthetime @sstrohma @moonlightttfae

#rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin x reader #poly!rowaelin #throne of glass x reader #rowaelin x y/n #poly!rowaelin x y/n #throne of glass fic #rowan whitethorn x reader #rowan whitethorn x y/n #aelin galathynius x y/n #aelin galathynius x reader #aelin x y/n #aelin x reader

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 3 months ago

Note

If fighting vampire nazis, gore and guns wasn’t the focus of hellsing, what do you think the actual plot/main conflict could have been? I came across a post where you said alucard is wasted potential so … what kind of plot would show his potential? Also, what kind of a character arc do you think he should have had in a better and more thoughtfully plotted hellsing

Well I wouldn’t say the story isn’t thoughtfully plotted out :C

Like yes, it’s an over the top, campy, gorefest that makes no sense, but it succeeds in what it’s trying to do basically. I think it is genuinely, astonishingly good in a few ways. Hirano is fantastic at pacing and using his panels to give the impression he wants— when he bothers. And it’s surprisingly sound when it comes to structure and thematic motifs? The external plot is bonkers, but the way it handles these characters dealing with/being consumed by their pasts, and the way it uses vampirism/monstrosity as a metaphor is really solid.

Hellsing’s main thematic argument is one of comparing monstrosity and humanity, and pitting them against each other.

All the relevant monsters in Hellsing are presented to be unmoored, destructive, and unable to cope with the present in a meaningful way. They are defined by being incapable of moving beyond their pasts, so they seek out as much destruction as they can until they finally find something that can destroy them in turn. (This is consistent throughout the series but most clearly stated in volume 9)

All the monsters presented in Hellsing grapple with the inability to move on. Explicitly, Millennium’s entire raison d’être is bringing about a final “glorious” war they can die in because the modern world has no place for them anymore. They fight with fucking zeppelins. They’re relics.

Seras’ fight with Zorin hinges on a flashback, digging up all the trauma she never confronted. Walter and Alucard’s final battle is entirely about their history, and it has both of them looking like they did during the Dawn era.

Meanwhile, when Anderson uses the Nail of Helena (directly following the unraveling of Iscariot, and the death of Maxwell, who may as well have been his son), that is him refusing to cope. That is what drives him to monstrosity, to self destruction. That’s why he dies.

And Alucard, as the de facto protagonist, has spent the entire plot with the single motive of finding someone worthwhile to defeat him. He has no personal motivations outside of doing whatever Integra/Hellsing tells him to, and just… killing things for the love of the game until he eventually, finally dies. And his past hangs heaviest on the series. The entire present state of the series basically hinges on the shit he did as Dracula. The one thing we know about this guy is that if he could, he would very much like to die while killing things lol.

Anderson is meanwhile his main foil and most strongly represents the past/the siren song of death to him. He’s suspiciously similar in appearance to Van Helsing in the Bela Lugosi movie (despite Van Helsing looking different in the series itself) Meanwhile each encounter with him is immediately followed by a flashback, and then in that final fight Alucard ends up confronting his past human life.

And he almost gives up during that last fight, until Seras (a representation of the present and future) rouses him out of it. That’s his first real choice to move on. But it’s also established that eventually his past is going to catch up to him, and outweigh his future. It’s treated as a foregone conclusion, even if he’s not to that point yet.

So the Schrodinger thing at the end is really interesting. Because bullshit anime logic or not, the point is that he explicitly has to kill every single familiar he’s accumulated over the centuries, in order to exist in the present. Even then he’s “everywhere and nowhere” (lmao. whatever) which basically gives him the option to fizzle out of existence? So the epilogue existing at all, despite my various annoyances with its writing choices, is an interesting culmination of his arc! He chose to come back to his silly little found family when he really didn’t have to! I like that as an arc.

And in any sort of restructure I would want that preserved, even if the entire plot isn’t conveyed through boss battles. Anyway I’ve said for ages that I would want a monster of the week version of the series, so probs something like that.

Something with like the BTVS (or Supernatural lol) classic structure of small fry enemies per episode that culminate in a season arc/big bad. The ideal tonal and stylistic comparison would be X Files, but their overarching narratives famously sucked lol. Anyway I just would’ve liked a procedural vibe like that. I think the implications of Integra taking over the Badrick situation in the first volume is really interesting. And Seras being a police officer who was super not in the know— when higher ranking people are— was something that could’ve been explored in much more depth. I would’ve loved to see her as a recurring character in their like procedural episodes who keeps brushing up against this weird paranormal leaning stuff she doesn’t understand, until she finally gets involved in something that goes wrong and has to be turned into a vampire (ostensibly to save her life… but maybe to keep her quiet)

I also would love more intra organization drama that doesn’t result in immediate blood shed lol. We’re told that Iscariot and Hellsing have clearly mapped out jurisdictions based on majority religion, and treaties and diplomatic relationships, however strained. Maxwell going “fuck your treaties” is apparently a new thing, so like how does that go! What are the repercussions! What brought this on! And like are there any other similar organizations abroad? Are there team ups? I would like there to be team ups.

Meanwhile the existence of the round table implies that… the entire UK government.. is a sham? That they’re actually living in a secret feudal society? I want to know about the families and the politics and the very likely cartoonish degrees of corruption! The original Studio Gonzo show, very poorly, implemented a plotline where Hellsing became too much of a liability and the Queen specifically decided (lol) to have them publicly labeled as a terrorist organization and arrest everyone involved, pretending that they never had any government ties. That was fun! I would like a good version.

Or like it’s set in the 90s, let’s talk about how much harder it’s going to be to keep the supernatural quiet with the rise of technology, and the Internet. Like idk there’s room for a lot! I would basically just love to see a more sprawling version of this story and world.

My main issue with Alucard also is just that he’s so overpowered physically, that it seems like a waste to always put him in fights where he is 100% no question going to win. Putting him on a ship because the plot simply wouldn’t happen if he was there is 😭😭😭 I think we can have some boss battles, gore, and body horror, bc that is fun. But he just needs more restraints. I’d put more focus on him answering to Integra, who in turn answers to the slow moving machine that is bureaucracy, and just not let him do as much, and with severe consequences if he gets too out of line to maintain some stakes. Meanwhile, having a more mystery procedural approach would’ve balanced things out a bit more imo!

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #long post #a mysterious stranger has appeared #meta #step into my office #dark stories of the north

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