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neouture · 10 months

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When you use your safeword

Pairings: Mark x Reader, Jeno x Reader, Haechan x Reader, Jaemin x Reader Words: 3,805 Genre: Smut (18+) Format: Scenarios Warnings: (In general) fem!reader, use of safeword, discussion of safeword, dirty talk, use of petnames (baby, darling, pretty, princess). (Mark's scenario) mentions of stress, penetrative sex, overstimulation, somewhat dom drop. (Jeno's scenario) deepthroating/face fucking, slightly mean!jeno, teasing. (Haechan's scenario) use of toys, edging, orgasm denial/interruption. (Jaemin's scenario) oral sex, fingering, overstimulation.

⸺ Mark

“One more,” he groans, using both your wrists crossed right behind your back as leverage and pressing down your face and upper body even further against the mattress. “I know you can give me one more”.

You’re sure your knees will give up on you any minute now.

“I can’t,” you cry out, but the sound is quickly muffled by the pillows. “I can’t- shit, Mark, I can’t”.

“Didn’t you say I could take all my stress out on you?” His words are harsh, but they don't sting enough for you to quit. Or at least not yet. “You wanted this, so I’m giving it to you”.

It's useless to try and regain your strength, so you come to terms with having your face buried in his pillows. It's getting hard to breathe, but you don't care —all you want is to stick up to your word, to let him relieve all his frustrations on you.

“S-shit,” you cry out loud, squirming underneath him as much as his grip allows you to.

You really don’t want him to stop —it hurts just as much as it feels good but, at the same time, you are aware you’re pushing your limits.

“Come,” Mark groans, slapping your ass with his available hand. The stinging feeling is enough to make your whole body jolt forward, but the way he is holding you in place prevents your body from running away from him. “Be good and squeeze my cock right”.

Your body feels numb. You're not even sure if your orgasm is approaching or not because this feels unusual. It's an overwhelming sensation that you're not quite sure how to describe, but it's nothing you're familiar with.

Your heart feels heavy, and your chest is pounding with guilt. You really can't do it, despite how much Mark is asking you to. You tried to be good, to let him use you until he is satisfied, but you can't keep up with his rhythm.

It became too much in so little time, and you feel somewhat guilty for not being able to reciprocate.

“Mark,” you gasp for air, feeling your consciousness drifting away as you try to speak loud and clear for him to hear your safe word, “red”.

He stops right in his tracks. Almost too harshly.

He immediately lets go of the grip on your wrists, and the sigh of relief you let out makes him feel awful. Just like it does seeing your tinted cheeks stained with tears, and your swollen lips which you spent biting down the last couple of minutes to prevent you from sobbing.

“Fuck, baby,” it’s almost comical how quickly he moves around the bed —too fast for your hazy mind to comprehend it. “Shit, I’m so- I’m so sorry, I’m sorry”.

You don’t need any apology whatsoever. You tried to drag it out as much as you could, and when it became a lot you decided to use your safe word. As simple as that.

He isn't one to blame, nor you.

“It’s okay, Mark,” you whisper, pushing your hair away from your face while the back of your hand tries to dry out the tears and drool on your chin.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath again, followed by a choked and frustrated deep exhale. “I didn’t- shit, I should’ve stopped”.

“You did,” it’s almost useless to try and talk some sense into your boyfriend as of right now, since he’s walking around your bedroom trying to pick up stuff you might need —a dampened towel, a blanket and a bottle of water. “I said the safe word and you stopped”.

“No,” he shakes his head, dragging the dampened towel slowly through your inner thighs. You can see regret washing down on his face while he gulps loudly. “I should’ve stopped- I was being too rough, I just- I’m so fucking sorry, I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have pushed you to your limits, I should’ve-”.

“Mark,” you cut him off short, wrapping your hand around his arm while he finishes cleaning you up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take everything you were giving me”.

Mark's knitted eyebrows and the sadness creeping into his eyes feel like a painful sting into your heart.

“Don’t say that,” he coos, caressing your head and face while planting a kiss on your forehead. “Please don’t say that ever again, baby”.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you murmur with hitched breath, feeling a bit emotionally overwhelmed by the past session. “I’m sorry for not being able to keep going”.

“Don’t,” Mark whispers, holding you into his embrace while still peppering warm kisses to your forehead. “Please don’t apologize for that, I don’t ever want you to push your limits like that for me ever again”. You hide your face into his chest and just nod, feeling comforted by the warmth his skin provides. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you murmur against his flesh.

It takes him a while to regain composure, and he does so by cuddling you tightly against him. His fingertips run the middle of your back over and over again, murmuring sweet nothings while he makes sure to keep his undivided attention on you rather than the guilt he's feeling.

“Thank you for using your safe word,” he whispers into your ear, leaving small pecks everywhere his lips approach. “And I’m sorry for- I just, got too carried away, didn’t realize I was hurting you”.

You hum weakly, just mere seconds away from falling asleep between his arms.

“I wanted you to,” it’s all you manage to say. “I wanted- you to take out all your stress on me”.

“Not like this, baby,” he tells you. “Not by hurting you”.

You don't realize how much time you two spend in silence, just cuddling each other. But right before your eyes finally close shut, you can pick on Mark's quiet voice whispering endless praises to you.

“You did so good for me, baby,” he leaves another kiss on your forehead while his hand caresses the side of your face and body. “I love you so, so, so fucking much”.

⸺ Jeno

“It’s this really all you can take?” The mocking tone in his voice makes you clench around thin air, but he is not that far from the truth.

Jeno knows you. He knows your limits fairly well, knows how much you can take and when you need to stop. Tonight, he is just teasing you —well deserved, after you spent the whole night teasing him just as much.

“You were talking so much shit earlier today,” he scoffs, slamming his hips against your mouth. “I’m happy to know your mouth is useful for so much more”.

It's no surprise you're currently like this —on your knees, with your hands behind your back and your mouth open for him to fuck it. You knew this is exactly what you wanted the minute you started teasing him, but you didn't calculate how riled up Jeno could get by it.

And oh, how riled up he got.

“Didn’t you say my cock wasn’t enough?” he asks you, groaning through gritted teeth. “You can’t even take it without making a whole fucking mess of yourself”.

You moan against his length, occasionally gagging when the tip of it hits the deepest spots in your throat. Tonight, Jeno is not showing any mercy on you —not that he usually does, but that is something you both enjoy.

However, it all becomes overwhelming when he gets too carried away. You can’t recall when was the last time he stopped to let you breathe, but it feels like forever ago. You’re managing to breathe through your nose, but that is nowhere near enough.

“Take me all,” he hisses, finishing every word with a hard thrust of his hips. “Make me come inside that dirty mouth of yours”.

That’s all you want, really.

But it's getting impossible when the lack of oxygen is making you feel dizzy. Plus, your mouth feels sore and the tears spilling from your eyes along with the good amount of drool falling from your lips and onto your chin is making the task rather difficult.

You want to please Jeno, you really do. But you also need a break.

So you interrupt the position he put you on, and your hands reach out to the side of his thighs. In the midst of the roughness, you dig your nails onto his soft flesh and he is quick to pull himself out of you with ease, also freeing your hair from his harsh grip.

“Red,” you cough, gasping for air almost immediately. And although it’s barely audible, you don’t need to repeat it twice before Jeno is already dropping to his knees right in front of you.

“Are you okay?” he rushes to ask with a concerned look.

“Yes,” you cough again, attempting to clean your face with the back of your hand. “I kind of- got too overwhelmed”.

“Don’t apologize,” Jeno shakes his head. One of his hands reaches out to your chin and he is quick to pick up on your teary eyes and drooling lips. “Let me clean you up”.

He stands up and comes back quickly, just because he didn't want to leave you on your own for too long. When he kneels right beside you again, you notice he is carrying some tissues along with water and some snacks.

“You brought the whole pantry,” you joke, still with a hoarse voice.

Jeno’s lips rise in a weak, half smile. “I didn’t ask what you were craving but I figured something to eat would make you feel better”.

Two of his fingers lift up your chin while he dries up your tears with a tissue. Once he is done, he moves on quickly to clean up your mouth, chin and chest with delicacy, his soft eyes paying attention to every inch of skin that he might need to take care of.

“Right now I need some water,” you tell him.

After cleaning you up, he takes off the lid and hands you the bottle of water. It’s the perfect temperature —not too cold that it hurts your throat more than it is already aching, but it is also not too warm.

It helps, a lot.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeno asks again, and you can still sense the worry in his tone. He intertwines his hand with yours, and you squeeze it lightly before offering him a smile.

“I’m sure, Jeno,” you reply. “I just needed a break, really. I’m alright”.

“Did I hurt you?” he queries, wanting to know exactly what prompted you to use your safe word just to be extra careful next time to not push your limits. “Was I being too mean? Was I too rough?”

You smile wholeheartedly. “You know I like it when you’re mean,” you reassure him, “but I wasn’t breathing properly. That’s why I asked you to stop”.

Jeno tiltes his head with a look of shame imprinted on his face. “I acted like a fucking animal”.

You shake your head, “I think we both got too carried away, you know. With all the teasing and stuff”.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, caressing your hand while he holds it. “I’ll be way more careful next time”.

“Thank you,” you smile. “I just need a couple of seconds to continue”.

“Why don't we end this here, yeah?” he proposes.

“But-” you’re not quite sure if you still want to keep on going, but a part of you wishes you would. You’re still aroused, and you want him still. “I want to- you’re still- I want to make you come”.

“Maybe another time, pretty,” Jeno smiles, cupping your face to leave a quick kiss on your lips. “Right now I want us to rest, alright?”

He loses no time in getting you to bed, covering your naked body with a cozy blanket while leaving the water bottle on your night stand in case you might need to drink some more. He also carries the snacks all the way to you, and once you’re settled he makes a space in your bed for him to lay down next to you.

“What are you craving for dinner, hm?” he asks while you munch on some oatmeal cookies. The whole scene left you more tired and hungry than you initially thought, so the snacks were very convenient for you to regain some energy. “I can cook for you, or we can order some food delivery”.

“The second option,” you whine. “I want you to cuddle me”.

Jeno scoffs softly, and shifts his position on the bed so that he can wrap his arms around you. “Good choice, pretty”.

⸺ Haechan

“Shit,” a choked moan escapes your lips when Haechan's hand keeps your thighs open, with so much strength that you can barely move underneath his grip. “Haechan”.

He places a wet kiss on your inner thigh, softly nipping at your sensitive flesh while pressing the vibrator even harder against your clit.

“You’re dripping wet,” he tells you with his heavy gaze all over yours, “you must really want to come, don’t you?”

You buck your hips at his mocking words, sobbing when you feel your inevitable fate creeping through.

It has been going on for minutes, maybe hours. You honestly can’t tell anymore, but it sure has been feeling like an eternity of torture.

“Haechan, please,” you cry out. “Please, I’m begging”.

“You can beg all you want, darling,” Haechan scoffs, forcing your thighs open even more. “But I’m still not going to let you come”.

Damned be him, who knows you too well. Even if you try to fool him, to come and pretend you just didn't, Haechan will know —he knows your body language like the back of his hand.

“Don’t even think about it,” he continues, just as if he is reading your mind.

“Please,” you cry out one more time, but it’s all in vain —you know he is not going to show you any mercy. “I’m close”.

The mischievous smile he has on surely tells you that he is pleased with all of this —pleased with how fucked out you look after having your orgasm taken away from you at least 3 times tonight. And in all honesty, you enjoy the dynamic. You enjoy being edged, and denied. You enjoy begging for pleasure, for him.

But maybe tonight your body is taking tolls on you, and you’re not enjoying it just as much as you usually do.

“Haechan,” you moan one last time before arching your back against the mattress. And it is in that moment, where your eyes go white and your lips start babbling nonsense, that Haechan knows you’re coming.

Clicking his tongue, he withdraws the toy away from you and leaves you with nothing but an interrupted orgasm. One that hurts, that has you crying and writhing in his bed.

“I didn't say you could, darling,” he murmurs with a deep tone, admiring your body trembling underneath his. “Did I?”

You don’t respond. Not that you can, because the pain on your lower back and abdomen it’s almost unbearable —after all the edging, your body is extremely sensitive. Another touch, or another forced stimulation and you’re sure you might pass out from exhaustion.

“Red,” you babble when you feel his soft hands prying your thighs open again. “Red, red”.

Immediately, he helps you close your legs and kneels right beside you on the bed, caressing your legs and looking out for your hand.

“Too much?” he asks, wholeheartedly. You simply nod, sobbing quietly at the overwhelming feeling. “Come here”.

He lays next to you and hugs you tightly, pressing your face against his naked chest. His heart is beating loudly, even from a distance you can hear it —he also doesn’t say it, but you can feel him getting tense at the realization that he might have overstepped your boundaries.

You spend some time like this, hugging him while trying to calm down. Even the painful tension on your lower abdomen disappears after some while, just by having his embrace close to you.

“Are you okay?” Haechan queries with a whisper.

“Yes,” you murmur, offering him a weak smile. “I’m very tired”.

“I know, darling,” he wipes the sweat off of your forehead, and brushes your hair back. “I’m sorry”.

“For what?” you ask, confusion imprinted all over your face.

“I should’ve stopped long before you use your safeword,” he explains. “I should’ve known when it was becoming too much for you, and I shouldn't have pushed you to use it”.

“Well we have a safe word for a reason, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” he exhales. “But I don’t ever want to overwhelm you enough to the point where you need to use it again”.

“It’s okay, baby,” you reassure him. “I’m okay, alright?”

“Alright,” Haechan whispers, kissing your cheek sweetly.

After a couple of seconds holding you between his arms, he decides it’s time to clean you up, put you some new clothes and provide you with some water. But right when he is about to step out of bed, he feels your arms tightening around him.

“Let me take care of you,” he tells you, patting your head softly.

“Don’t leave,” you murmur. “Please stay with me”.

“You want me to stay here?” Haechan repeats. “Don’t you want me to get you some water, clean you up?”

You shake your head. “All I need right now is you,” you tell him. “Stay with me a little longer”.

He nods compliantly, feeling his heart skipping a beat or two when the realization of how much you need his presence around at vulnerable times sinks in.

“I’m right here,” he coos. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m going to stay with you here until you need me to”.

“Thank you, Haechan,” you whisper against his neck. “Thank you, for always trusting me”.

⸺ Jaemin

“Come on, princess,” Jaemin smiles, his lips brushing against your sensitive core. “Let me make you feel good”.

When you told Jaemin you were feeling a bit stressed today, he took matters into his own hands to help you take your mind off of things for a while. Of course, he has his very own way to do so, and you're more than happy with it.

He’s like that, an act of service that meets physical touch as a love language kind of guy. Overtime, he has noticed how much you like it when he eats you out —you can spend hours with your legs open and your fingers latched to his soft hair, and he can do exactly the same.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, making sure you’re still with him.

And it does feel good, but you can already feel the overstimulation coming through with each flick of his tongue, or each touch of his rough digits against your clit.

“I’m close,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “So- close, Jaemin”.

He smiles.

“Show me how close you are,” Jaemin tells you, lapping at your slit messily. “Come all over my face”.

You can't understand how those filthy words can come out of a mouth so sweet, but you love it. So much so, that it's his words that trigger your third orgasm of the night, one that's just as messy as the way he has been eating you out for the past hour or so.

“Jaemin,” you whimper one more time, and pull his hair roughly against your cunt that it ellicits a painful hiss out of him. “F-fuck, shit”.

“Keep going,” Jaemin gasps against your pussy, burying his fingers in it while he continues teasing you with his tongue. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied”.

But you're more than satisfied by now. Your third orgasm it’s as pleasing as it is painful, and he is not giving you any time to recover from it.

“Jae- Jaemin,” you whimper, closing your legs around him instinctively as a way to avoid overstimulation. “Too much”.

All in his mind is to make you come again. And again, and again until you're left with no thoughts.

But the overwhelming stimulation is becoming almost unbearable, so you really need him to stop —no matter how badly you wish to come again for him.

“Red, Jaemin,” you cry out, and whine at the immediate loss of contact from his lips. “I can’t take one more”.

You can feel him panicking for a bit. But just as fast, he regains composure of himself and the situation.

“Are you okay?” he asks with shortness of breath, with messy hair and still your arousal glistening on his lips and chin.

“Too much,” it’s all you manage to say. “It started to hurt a little bit”.

Jaemin furrows his eyebrows and sits on the bed right beside you, staring at you deeply.

“What can I do for you?” he immediately asks, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “What do you need?”

“I just- need some time,” you exhale. “I swear I’m going dizzy”.

You let out a soft laugh, but Jaemin’s worry stops him from finding your comment any amusing.

“I need to know if you’re okay,” he tells you, the concern in his voice being almost palpable. “Please tell me if you need me to do anything”.

“I’m okay,” you smile. “I promise”.

Jaemin caresses your head and face, contemplating the sweet smile you're offering him even after the pain he caused you. He didn't mean to, really. But he failed to realize that the line between pleasure and pain can sometimes be very faint.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. “Please forgive me”. He leaves a wet peck on your forehead, and hugs you tightly against his chest, decorated with sweat. “I won’t let that happen again”.

“It’s alright, Jaemin,” the embrace is comforting enough, but Jaemin has other plans in mind for you. Or at least that’s what you think when you feel him stepping out of the bed. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll run a warm bath for you,” he tells you, slipping into a pair of shorts before approaching your drawer, and it takes him no more than a minute to pick up some new clothes and underwear for you, placing it at the edge of the bed. “I’ll get you cleaned up and we can have some dinner after”.

“A warm bath sounds nice,” you sigh. “Really”.

He smiles at you from the door frame, and walks towards you one last time to leave a kiss on your lips.

“I love you,” Jaemin reminds you. “I love you so, so much”.

He cups your face and gives you small pecks on your forehead, cheeks and the tip of your nose.

“I love you even more, Jaemin”.

A/N: This is my first post, ever! If you read it all and made your way up until here, I really appreciate it. If you like this, please please please leave a comment or an ask! That would motivate me to keep on posting stuff! Thank you for your time!

#nct dream smut #nct smut #kpop smut #mark smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #jeno smut

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pinkanonwrites · 7 months

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Washrack Academy

Jetstorm and Jetfire have a lot of questions about humans. But you? You just want to take your shower in peace.

TFA Jetfire, TFA Jetstorm, and Reader, no ships but it's implied Jetfire has a little crush on the reader, human reader, non-sexual nudity, is it still voyeurism if it's mostly fueled by curiosity? probably, AFAB Reader with GN Pronouns, alien anatomy discussions

"You know, humans are being much more hygienic than Sentinel says they are being."

You rolled your eyes, hefting your small duffel bag further up your shoulder. "Yeah, well Sentinel doesn't know as much about humans as he thinks he does. Most people I know shower every other day at the very least. We aren't big fans of being dirty."

"But now you are being extra dirty!" Jetstorm loomed over you with a cheeky grin, running a huge metal digit over the top of your head. A slick of motor oil came with it, sending another disgusted shiver down your spine at the gooey sensation. "Bumblebee maybe needs to working on power steering! And not splashing human friends with drinks of celebration."

Being a human liaison representing the city of Detroit on Cybertron was already a job way outside of the normal parameters of your career, and the stress was leaving you pretty wired. But Bumblebee accidentally tipping an oversized can of motor oil off a table and directly onto your head while showing off just had to be the final nail in the coffin. In front of a whole bunch of big important Autobots and everything.

Now you were being flanked on either side by Sentinel Prime's personal squadron (a gig they eagerly volunteered for and a choice both you and Sentinel had little say in) as they showed you to whatever the Cybertronian equivalent of an army base locker room was so you could get cleaned up.

"And motor oil not to be damaging your fluffy organic fibers?" Great, now Jetfire was poking at your greasy hair too. At least he had half a processor to keep his igniters off while he did.

"It's called hair. And it'll only damage it if I leave it in too long. Plus, it's really bad for my skin."

"Good for it not to be doing badness to hair! Yikes for it to be doing badness to skin. So sensitive, little organics. Must be very hard!"

"You're telling me, bud."

"Here! Coming this way." Jetstorm gestured for you to follow him through a tiled doorway. The room beyond looked remarkably similar to the locker room you'd had in high school, though blown up to a cartoonish scale. "We have tiny washrack for mini-bot sizes. Maybe too big for you still, but is better than nothing!"

He wasn't exaggerating, the handles for the mini-bot sized faucets were still a good two or three feet out of your reach.

"Where do you even put your towels? Your soap?" You glanced around but failed to find any bench or wall divot suitably placed for setting your things down. "Is there anywhere I can set my bag?"

"Just be putting bag into subspace! Easy for peasy!" A small compartment popped open on Jetstorm's chest, and from it he procured… a metal scouring pad? A giant one, about the size of a large restaurant platter. If the situation weren't so incredibly absurd already, you might've gotten a chuckle out of the idea of a robot using a Brillo pad as a loofah.

"Yeah, we don't… humans don't have that." You said instead. Because this situation was, in fact, incredibly absurd.

Jetfire and Jetstorm looked at each other, mirrored expressions of visible confusion. Then, they both shrugged.

"Being a human…"

"...Is very difficult!"

"Look, just- can one of you hold it for me? Please?"

"For certain! I will be best at human wash rack supplies holder job! Be counting on me." You dropped your duffel bag into Jetfire's cupped hands and wrenched it open. Grabbing your various bottles of hair product and a large towel from within, you lined them up on the floor along the wall and hopefully just beyond the reach of the shower's spray. But as you moved for the bottom of your shirt to pull it off, you felt the prickle of two pairs of optics staring just a little bit too hard at your body.

"Are you two just gonna… watch me? You can wait outside, you know."

"We are to be protecting you from curious bots! And make sure you do not do the snooping or the wandering off." Jetstorm insisted.

"Are you gonna do that while staring me down? A little privacy, please." Was it ironic to ask for privacy in a locker room? Probably. But most people had the decency not to stare while someone was getting undressed.

Most people. Maybe that sentiment didn't extend to twelve foot tall transforming robot soldiers.

"Staring? Who is doing the staring? Certainly not us goodness bots!"

"No, no! We would never be the staring! Especially not at soft and squishy little human frame!"

Both brothers rushed to cup a servo over their optics, continuously asserting their supposed innocence all the while. You sighed, peeling your way out of your slick and permanently stained clothes and letting them fall to the ground in an oily heap.

"Well I don't know how it is on Cybertron, but on Earth staring at people in the locker room is what we call 'bad manners.' You two ever heard of those?"

"We will being so very manners-filled! No staring from us at you, big promise." Jetfire insisted, carefully depositing your bag into his subspace as he brought his other servo up so they were both covering his faceplate.

"Though do not be trying to do the sneaking off while we are look-away! That would be also called 'bad manners.'" Added Jetstorm with a cheeky thumbs-up.

"I'm not going to go sneaking around your base naked, so you don't need to worry about that. Now could one of you get the water for me, please?"

As Jetstorm felt along the wall and cranked the water to partial blast, you swear you heard him ask his brother 'But what is "naked" meaning?' The hiss of the showerhead quickly covered it, though, and you decided you'd rather focus on getting clean before you struggled to explain the foreign concept to the pair of ridiculous twins. The water ran just hot enough to make your skin tingle as you lathered your hair with shampoo, vigorously scrubbing the motor oil free from your scalp. It'd probably take more than a few rinses to get everything out, you'd have to ask Professor Sumdac to bridge you some more toiletries way sooner than you'd originally planned. Maybe Sari could pick some up for you on her next trip home?

But as you lathered your hair up for the fourth (maybe fifth?) time, you couldn't help but notice a quiet, metallic buzzing that could just barely be heard over the hiss of water. It paused and fizzed in a rhythmic pattern, not all too dissimilar from Morse Code. It would stop for a moment, before picking up again, slightly lower pitched this time. It sounded almost like… a conversation.

"If you've got something to say, you can say it out loud." You called them out. Jetfire startled at the sound of your voice, his own sounding slightly strained.

"What? But we are such quiet being!"

"You're doing that… that 'EM field' thing. Where you talk to each other with your brains? I've heard Bee and Bulkhead do it before. So, c'mon. What do you want to know?"

He clammed up, absentmindedly scuffing one of his pedes against the tiled floor. Jetstorm, meanwhile, had a sly grin growing across his faceplate. He raised his free servo up in the air like a student waiting to be called on.

"Actually, Jetfire is having a question!"

"I-I am not! Do not listen, brother is merely making funny joke!"

"No, no! Do not listen to him! Jetfire is very, very curious about human not having sp-MRMPH!"

A cacophony of metal on metal echoed through the wash racks as Jetfire tackled his brother to the wet tile, wrestling his servos over the other's intake to keep him quiet. Jetstorm grabbed for his brother's goggles and pulled him into a shaky headlock, even as Jetfire repeatedly kicked him in the knees with the flat of his pede. You scrambled to grab your towel, clutching it to your front as the two bots collapsed to the ground in an ear-splitting crash.

"Hey, HEY! Quit it! What the hell are you two doing?!"

Both of their heads snapped up at your tone, Jetstorm still looking mischievous while his brother had the decency to look a bit sheepish. He quickly pried Jetfire's servo off of his intake.

"Jetfire is wanting to know why humans do not have spike! You know, since he was doing the peeking."

"Y-You were also doing peeking! I know you were curious too!" Jetfire shot back.

"Maybe curious, yes, but you are obsessed! 'Oh, little humans are so soft and so squishy being! Why so warm? I want to be holding one!'"

"I am not sounding like that! You are making exaggeration!"

Jetfire seemed on the verge of tackling his brother again, so you quickly stepped in. "Okay, geez, look. I will answer one, ONE! Question each. And only if you stop hitting each other. That's it. I don't have the energy for this today."

The two bots awkwardly clambered back to their feet, Jetstorm looking down at you with a playful grin while Jetfire seemed to be looking anywhere but your unclothed frame.

"Brotherrrrr?" Jetstorm teased. "Would you like to be going first?"

Jetfire dignified his brother's teasing with a sharp elbow to the side, but spoke anyway. "S-Sorry to be peeking when you said not, but, um, do humans not have- uh, not have spike? Or is it hidden? Maybe not pressurized? If embarrassing you don't have to say. No biggee."

You furrowed your brow. 'Spike.' You don't think you'd heard any of the Autobots use that term before, at least not around you. Maybe it was a built-in weapon? Or some sort of specialized armor plating?

"I, uh, I don't know what a spike is. Sorry. Can you be… more specific?"

Jetfire let out a high-pitched sound, similar to heat escaping a tea kettle, while his brother only seemed to beam even brighter at his humiliated suffering.

"Ah, you know! Spike!" Jetstorm grinned. "Right here, above valve? Comes out like 'fssshh'? No modesty panel on you, so maybe just hidden away!" He made a bunch of vague motions in front of his crotch, and with a looming horror you started to catch on as he mimed the motion of something growing and rising up in front of his crotch plate. His modesty panel.

Holy shit they had robot dicks.

"N-No? No, I don't have a- a spike." You were doing your absolute best to stay focused on the conversation at hand, not think about… about the robot penis that apparently all Cybertronians had? "Humans, uh, most humans just have one or the other. The, um, the spike or the… the…"

"Valve?" Jetstorm happily supplied.

"Sure? I guess?!"

"Something new to be learned every day! Right, brother?" Jetstorm thumped his brother on the back with an open servo, while Jetfire was openly refusing to make eye contact with you. The temperature in the room seemed to peak by a few degrees, and based on the heat waves rolling off of Jetfire's body you had an inkling suspicion it was his doing, however unintentional it may be. "Anyways, my turn, yes? You said word 'naked'. What is 'naked' meaning?"

"Uh, y-yeah. Um, yeah. Sure." God, you did not have the mental fortitude to deal with these revelations today. "Naked just means you're not… covered up? Wearing clothes. There are some parts on a human that have to be covered in public, otherwise it's uh… inappropriate." Your only solace was that now you had some sort of comparison to make between Cybertronians and humans. "Like, you guys wouldn't walk around with your… your spike out? Same for humans."

"Ohhh…" They even had stunned realizations in unison. You'd almost consider it cute, if you weren't already so burnt-out.

"Yep, well, class is over. Can I please get dressed now? Preferably without being watched?"

"A-Ah! Yes, of course! So sorry! Here is things." Jetfire quickly fumbled your duffel out of his subspace, only for it to slip through his digits and hit the floor with a thud. Wincing, he turned to shove his brother from the room, calling over his shoulder to you as they went. "We will be watching door so no bots do peeking! Then there is no way we be seeing you naked, not even little bit! Seeing you in moment- but not naked! Just normal seeing!"

"O-Okay? I'll be out in… a bit." But they were already gone. Weird. Weird couple of bots. But hey, at least now you could dry your hair in peace.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Very bumpy landing, brother." Jetstorm couldn't fight his mirthful grin as he stared down at his spark-twin, who was currently sitting with his back to the wall outside the wash racks, knee-joints pulled up tight to his chassis and faceplate hidden from view. "I may not be seeing exact same appeal you do, but humans are verrrrrry entertaining being. That human especially so!"

"I wish to be offline." Jetfire lamented. "So awkward, very very uncool. They will never be speaking to me again."

"Do not be so downer, brother! They answer questions very nice, and do not even yell when you peeking at their array!"

Jetfire let out another pathetic wail. "Do not be reminding me! Me, caught peeking? Would rather scrub every rivet on Omega Supreme than be that embarrassing again." He slammed his helm against the tops of his knee-joints a few times for good measure, a loud, echoing clanking reverberating down the hall. "Why are little humans being so soft? A-And when covering self, why are little peeks of soft bits around towel so- so erotic?"

Jetstorm cackled, patting his brother atop the helm with his servo. "And to think, we thought being human is hard. Sounds like liking human is much, much harder!"

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers imagines #transformers jetfire #transformers jetstorm #tfa jetfire #tfa jetstorm #long post #my writing #maccadam #i love these doofy robots and their doofy accents so much #you have no idea how much fun they are to write dialogue for #sorry this isnt smut but i PROMISE there's more smut stuff on the way

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flower-boi16 · 2 months

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The Problems With Charlie As The Main Protagonist

I've spoken about my thoughts on Charlie as a character before a few times on this blog, but I think it's finally time to discuss why Charlie isn't exactly the best protagonist. On the surface, there doesn't seem to be much wrong with her, she's likable and endearing enough and she's easy to root for. But...once you look deeper, the problems begin to rear their ugly head.

1. Charlie Never Grows

The first major issue with Charlie as a character is how she never really grows over the course of the first season. The show never really gives her much of an arc...? Like, by the end of the season, what does Charlie really learn by the end? The only thing I can think of is that she was right about sinners being redeemed and...that's it.

And it doesn't really make Charlie that particularly compelling as a character, she's entirely stagnant. She does have a conflict with her father, which, while executed fine, isn't enough to make her a developed character. She only gets small tinges of development and that isn't really enough for me.

Charlie doesn't learn anything or grow as a character, which makes her pretty underdeveloped as a character. The show never really gives her any real character flaws to grow from and become a better person, she's always portrayed as in the right anyway and never challenged once. Speaking of that...

2. Charlie is Always Right

This more or less ties back into the "Charlie never grows" point I've said before and I've talked about this several times before, but it's still an issue with Charlie's character; she is ALWAYS in the right. Charlie's "everyone can be redeemed" mentality is never once challenged by the narrative, and anybody who does oppose Charlie in any way is considered as wrong by the narrative.

The reason why this is a problem is because Hazbin Hotel heavily preaches about being against black-and-white moralities, as seen with Heaven and especially Adam. Heaven is meant to be seen as bad because of its black-and-white mindset of "Sinners can't be redeemed and never will". This is put on full display with Adam, and his song Hell is Forever, to the point it literally includes lyrics like "the rules are black and white there's no use in trying to fight it".

You Didn't Know further pushes this with this line "the rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say and you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again".

So the show wants to push a message of "black and white morals are bad", but...it's rendered moot by the fact that Charlie is purely portrayed as in the right. Charlie is completely correct, everybody can be redeemed, everyone even the most evil people who did the worst possible things can still be good, and anyone who opposes her is wrong cuz she's completely in the right...gee, for a show so heavily against black-and-white moralities...doesn't this all seem very black and white in it of itself?

Charlie's "everyone can be redeemed" mentality is just as black and white as Adam's "nobody can be redeemed", they are both extremes leaning in opposite directions, that are also both wrong in their own ways, yet the show portrays Charlie's extreme as the right one and Adam's as the wrong one.

I've already talked about this before but Adam is a pure straw character; he only exists so Charlie can prove him wrong, he cant have any real character depth beyond being a generic asshole or have a real point because the show is so dead-set on making Charlie purely in the right no matter what; the narrative never challenges her and anyone who opposes her is portrayed as automatically in the wrong.

This is not the only time this happens btw. In episode 5, Lucifer is also portrayed as automatically wrong for opposing his daughter’s goals. He himself says that “Our people are AWFUL. They got gifted free will and look what they did with it!”, and the show…never counters this, despite what Lucifer is saying…being true. The people in Hell ARE awful and it's their own fault, many of them ARE deserving of death because…well, their shitty people.

Charlie is never challenged once throughout the show and its a problem because not only does it fly in the face of the show being so anti black and white, it also wastes an opportunity for the show to develop Charlie as a character; with her learning that some people can't be redeemed because they either are incapable or uninterested in changing.

That would fit more with the show’s anti-black-and-white themes and also have Charlie go through real growth as a character as she learns that not everything is all sunshine and rainbows. But sadly, we can't really have that.

So Charlie's ideals are never challenged by the narrative and thus it not only flies in the face of the show's themes it also wastes an opportunity for Charlie to grow as a character. Now it's best to get into the next issue with her...

3. Charlie is Barely Focused On

Another big issue with Charlie as the show's main protagonist is that the show doesn't really focus on her that much, especially the first half. Now, shows don't need to focus on the main protagonist at all times, obviously giving some screen time to other characters is definitely something shows should do.

But the problem is that Charlie gets very LITTLE focus in the series despite being the main protagonist, and this contributes to the problem of her being underdeveloped. The first half of the show is especially bad at this; episode 1 Is the only episode in the first half that focuses on Charlie, but even then it's overtaken by the B-plot involving the other characters trying to film a commercial.

Episodes 2&3 are entirely dedicated to what characters like Alastor or Angel Dust are doing and episode 4 is completely focused on Angel and his arc. It contributes to the issue of the show not being able to develop Charlie that much as a character because she's constantly being overshadowed by other characters. The second half is better in this regard for focusing more on Charlie but still, for the first half of the show, it feels like Charlie is overshadowed by other characters which is embarrassing because, well, she's the main character, yet she feels like she's barely gotten any actual spotlight.

4. Conclusion

I want to love Charlie as a character. I really do. I mean, she's a part of one of my favorite character archetypes. I always LOVE over joyful optimistic characters because I just find them a joy to watch on screen, but sadly, Charlie doesn't have much depth beyond that archetype. She isn't that developed making her fail to be much of a compelling protagonist, her ideology is never challenged by the narrative wasting an opportunity for her to grow and contradicting the show's themes, and she's heavily overshadowed by other characters despite being the main protagonist.

So ya, that's why Charlie isn't that great of a protagonist...bye.

#vivziepop critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel criticism

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 18 days

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Happy Sunday, my Darlings! I have a new Feyd-Rautha/Reader chapter up! (18+ Only)

Tags for this chapter: arranged marriage; dubious consent; breeding kink; overstimulation; blood kink; period sex; pain kink; oral sex (m+ and f+ receiving); vaginal sex; Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning; problematic smut; slow emotional burn; Feyd-Rautha having the most insane recovery period; discussions of pregnancy; implied/referenced past abuse; implied/referenced self-harm

Tags and notes for this story overall and full chapter below the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged when I update!

CW for the entire fic: arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced incest; sadomasochism; pain kink; rough sex; problematic smut; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; oral sex; blood kink; breeding kink; orgasm denial; eventual switching

Just as a note: this fic was going to be a lot shorter and completely plotless but that was 40k words ago and there's no end in sight, so I'm going to make some minor edits and rewrites to earlier chapters, but this story will end up factoring into the greater plot of the story.

Chapter Five: Playin' with Fire Burns a Little Bit

He keeps his word. It’s still somewhat dark outside when you wake to a hard cock against your backside and an arm wrapped around you, and you remember where you are and what happened.

Your ass doesn’t sting as much as it did last night; the more pressing matter is that Feyd-Rautha’s cock is slotted against the small of your back, just over the slope of your backside, and his arm that’s been looped around your ribcage is moving. His palm presses against your stomach. You give a soft grunt as you shift in his grasp and he raises himself up on his opposite elbow to get a good look at your face and your now-opened eyes.

“You’re awake,” he notes, voice even rougher first thing in the morning, and with that information decides to slide his hand from your ribcage to your crotch.

“You really meant it when you said first thing ,” you say, still drowsy, voice still laced with sleep.

“I have a busy schedule,” he says, rubbing down and sliding his fingertips along your slit before giving a quiet hmm as if to say, ‘ Not quite wet enough yet. Unfortunate .’ So he keeps circling your bud, nuzzling against your neck and jaw as you start to warm up, your breaths getting shorter.

When he wrings your first gasp out of you, he brings his fingertips back to your slit and gets the affirmation he wants that he’s getting you wet, enough that he can commence with his actual plans for you. In any case, you’re wide awake now.

You remind yourself that this isn’t the most depraved thing you’ve heard of on Geidi Prime. You don’t have to remind yourself that even as off-putting a concept it is, it felt great last night.

He turns you on your back and wastes no further time bringing his head between your legs. He takes just a moment to smell the blood between your thighs before he’s alternating between licking over you, wriggling his tongue inside of you, and suckling at your bud.

This time your hands are free to explore, to press against the back of his neck and scratch along his shoulders and biceps, to cup your own breasts to add to the stimulation until he covers them with his own.

He’s good at this , you realize, head falling back against the covers, hips arching up, and you have no frame of reference, no comparison for this, so it’s just a feeling. You’re pretty sure he likes this, likes the way you taste perhaps in part because of the blood coming out of you, and you’re willing to set aside how morbid that is if he keeps this up. You pant and moan, unconsciously grinding against his mouth and he lets you, lets you grip the back of his head as your breath comes in harsh and your entire body flushes hot. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it.

Your whimpers turn into a warning, one that he ignores as he keeps going, pulling back only to spit on his thumb and bring it to your bud as he presses his tongue back inside of you. He doesn’t let up, either, when you shake and come, trembling against his mouth. If anything it spurs him on, giving you too much.

You wish he had hair so you could tug on it to pull him away and give you a moment to cool down. You’ve never just kept on going after coming and it’s too much, it’s too intense. And that, apparently, is the idea because he keeps your hips pulled to him, his face still buried in between your legs. You groan, frustrated, knocking your head back against your pillow as your hips clench and you give another spasm.

He rocks his hips against the bed, devolving into grunts and moans against your sensitive skin, like this might be what sends him over the edge, too. Not that you realize it yet but he actually could. If he chose to, he could let the friction between his cock and the sheets below him get him there. But that would be a waste of his seed that he’s bent on spilling inside of you.

So after a minute he pulls away so he can sit up and flip you onto your stomach, pulls you up by your hips, and takes a moment to look at the remnants of the damage he did last night. It must be still sufficiently red and look as tender as it feels because he wastes no time squeezing the cheeks of your ass, probably smirking at your responding pained whine.

He chose this position on purpose, you realize. You’re still sore from last night, and you’ll feel the sting of his hips slapping against your ass, especially at the punishing pace he often sets. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he quickly, wordlessly, assures you this morning’s no different.

When he makes a ponytail out of your hair and tugs, spurred on by the noises you’re making, you wonder about the collars in the armoire. Are those because women on Geidi Prime don’t have hair to pull? Or will he use those collars on you, too?

He starts talking; a little unusual for him, since he doesn’t normally talk while he’s inside of you, but the words spill out of his chest in his gravely timbre. You just have no idea what he’s saying, it’s all guttural Harkonnen battle language that you haven’t learned yet.

You barely manage to hold your upper body upright, and you’re sure that’s mostly because of Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hair. He stops talking altogether and his speech devolves back into grunts and growls with each snap of his hips that almost drown out your moans and whimpers.

And then it’s done, he comes, one hand clutching your hip and the other still buried in your hair. For a few moments he stays there, still holding you onto him as he begins to soften, then he moves his hand from your hair to your stomach, coaxing you up until your back aligns with his chest. He breathes in, shifting his hand upwards until it curls loosely around your neck, which you turn in alarm to try and face him. Your blood is quickly drying, tacky and dark, on his mouth as he tilts his head and presses those blood-stained lips to yours. He only gives your neck the lightest of squeezes, a reminder of what he’s capable of but not a real threat, before moving his hand to your breast, palming it roughly. He keeps at it, kissing and fondling every exposed part of you he can reach until he gets hard again and you gasp at the feel of it, him filling out and stiffening inside of you once more.

Is this…normal? It can’t be, right? You’d probably have heard about it if it was.

He’s not a normal man , you have to remind yourself.

He took you in this position a couple of nights ago, when he had you brace your hands against the headboard as he fucked you, but right now the headboard’s too far away and so you rely on him holding you onto him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his hip as the other rubs down against your bud, your cries high and reedy as your fingers brush so close to where he’s pistoning in and out of you. His grunts and growls against your ear grow ragged; you half-expect him to snap his jaws and sink his teeth into your neck for the animalistic way he fucks you, like being inside of you makes him an even baser and more primitive creature. It makes you rub harder, feeling helpless to do anything else.

He lets you come this time.

For a full minute afterwards, he holds you to him, his breath going from panting back to normal, his pulse slowing back down, before he wordlessly tilts your hips forward and coaxes you on to your front before pulling out of you. You shut your eyes for a moment, hearing the telltale sounds of him padding over to the bathroom and take a moment to readjust yourself, shifting to lie on your side, waiting for him to come out.

When he does, his face and cock have been cleaned off and he heads for the dresser, and you’re about to get up to use the bathroom for yourself when he starts talking.

“I’ll grab you again in three hours for breakfast,” he says as he reaches into his drawers for clothes to train in. “When you didn’t show up yesterday my uncle was concerned that I may have been too much for you and wanted to verify that you’re still in one piece.”

“Was he really?” you ask. The best opinion the Baron seems to have of you is one of polite indifference; an adequate broodmare for the Harkonnen line.

“Harkonnen men can get overzealous,” he says. “He wants to make sure that I’m taking care of my new bride.”

That’s one way to put it , you think, shifting again to sit on the edge of the bed. It’s an effort, and even though the sheets are soft you can’t help but wince at the feeling of them against your well-used backside.

“Fine. I might get an hour or two of sleep before then.” You could certainly use it; your husband has certainly proved his stamina and energy in bed.

He glances over at you as he reaches for a training shirt. “I’m going to have a door installed connecting your quarters to mine. It’ll make it easier for us to meet at night,” he says, as if it wasn’t already easy. “Save us the trouble of having to get dressed before and afterwards.”

You could almost laugh. It would figure that’s his reasoning.

“Alright, I’ll be up in just a second.”

You’re a little surprised he’s not openly smug about how he wears you out. You’d almost expect him to joke about how hard it is to keep up with him, but he must realize he doesn’t have to. The way your legs shake a little as you walk over to your discarded clothing, the way you wince as you bend over to pick them up, speak for themselves. He does watch you, though, the rest of his clothes momentarily forgotten, as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory before you leave.

**********

You manage to get another hour’s sleep in which you quickly realize that sleeping on your back is out of the question for now.

Idrisa comes in shortly after you wake up to bring you water and coffee and prepare a bath for you. You’re so grateful for it that you could cry, hissing as the water hits your backside.

Idrisa peers in, concerned. “Everything alright, Na-Baroness?” she asks.

You look over at her. “Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water and one of those menstrual pain tablets?” you ask.

**********

You finish getting ready just in time for the Na-Baron to greet you in what you’ve gathered is his typical politician’s attire; black, clearly high-end and well-tailored material to show off his form. Too formal to train in but fitted for ease of movement. He has a holster on his thigh that holds a knife in its scabbard.

He gives you his arm for you to take; it’s almost whiplash how he oscillates between fucking you like a beast and having you on his arm like a courtly gentleman, but you accept and stroll down the hall together in silence for a moment.

He looks ahead as he says, “It’s going to be uncomfortable for you to sit down for a couple of days.”

“I figured that out earlier, but thank you,” you say.

“He’s going to notice and he’s going to bait you. Don’t acknowledge it. Getting flustered will just add fuel to the fire,” he adds.

“ You like seeing my discomfort,” you tell him.

His jaw tightens. He opens his mouth enough to run his tongue–strangely pink despite everything else being black–over his teeth before he clicks his tongue against them. “I like it for my own amusement, not his,” he says.

You reach the Dining Hall, with a spread being set out. It’s already too much food for three people, but with the Baron it’s unlikely that it’ll go to waste.

You stop and curtsy as Feyd-Rautha pulls your chair out for you.

“Good morning, Baron,” you say, face downcast, waiting for him to give you a nod before you sit down.

Feyd wasn’t lying, sitting in a chair’s even worse than sitting on a bed. You try not to shift around to get more comfortable; you just know that they’re going to notice.

“I suppose you’re still adjusting to Geidi Prime and married life?” the Baron asks you. You know he really means, Still adjusting to getting railed by my nephew, eh? Can’t say I’m surprised; I’ve heard that he’s hung like a donkey.

“Yes, Baron. It is getting easier, though. Everyone’s been accommodating,” you tell him as you take a sip of juice and avoid looking directly at him. He can probably sense your dislike despite your best efforts to be polite and deferential. He probably doesn’t care. He probably likes that you have to simper and fawn over how gracious he is when you wish you never had to speak to him.

“The relaxation chambers are still at your disposal, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

“Thank you, Baron, that’s an excellent idea.” And it is, much as you hate to admit it. All that worries you is the idea of anyone but you, Feyd, and Idrisa knowing that there’s no way that you’re pregnant yet. You’ll have to investigate first and see how bad the risk is of exposure. If word got back to the Baron…you’re certain he would be less thrilled than his nephew.

Conversation quickly turns to Arrakis. Since regaining it from the house of Atreides Rabban apparently has been struggling to overpower Fremen rebels. You’re a little taken aback that they’d be willing to discuss this in front of you and realize that it’s because you have no one to talk to about this anyways. The Atreides have been all but exterminated, not that you really knew any of them in the first place. Even Father was shocked to see how swiftly they met their end when it happened.

The Fremen, it turns out, are another story. It’s not a surprise that they can match the Harkonnens in brutality; they’re the only ones who inhabit a planet just as hostile and unforgiving as Geidi Prime and they’ve found ways to adapt to Arrakis that the Harkonnens haven’t needed to before.

“We’re going to need to train our men harder,” Feyd-Rautha says. “We’ve allowed ourselves to get complacent when we can’t afford to. The Sardaukar army helped us win back Arrakis; we need to hold ourselves to their standards. Until then, Rabban needs to stop trying to ply his ego with direct combat and use aerial strikes instead.”

The Baron looks up from his food and sits back for a moment, considering his nephew’s words with a small smile. See, this is why you’re my successor and not him, he seems to think, even when their conversation leads elsewhere. It’s the look of a man who’s playing a game he has yet to reveal, and it sticks with you for the remainder of breakfast.

What else does he have planned for his nephew?

******

Feyd-Rautha walks with you out of the Dining Hall, still playing the courtly married man, taking your hand on his arm as you pass slaves and soldiers alike who lower their heads in deference. It’s going to take some getting used to. He apparently has a meeting to attend, though, as he escorts you back to your quarters.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says, with no need for innuendo.

And so it continues for a few days. At night he takes you into his own bedchambers, tastes you until you nearly weep from the overstimulation, fucks you until you’re sore and shaking, sleeps with you, and wakes you up early the next morning to do it all again before he leaves to train. You save your energy during the day by staying more sedentary than you’re used to, remaining in the library or your quarters and listening to recorded lessons of basic Harkonnen words and phrases. Your pronunciation when you try to mimic the guttural tones is laughable, but you put in an effort. You’ll save the relaxation chambers for when you start training.

The fourth night, before he buries his face between your legs, he has you do the same to him; has you kneel as he sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his cock into the confines of your mouth.

“ You’ll learn to take everything, ” he tells you, one hand buried in your hair as he pushes you down farther than you’ve managed before, until tears spill out of the corners of your eyes and the noises your mouth makes around him sound utterly obscene. He lets you brace your hands on his legs and it’s between then and when he pulls you off of him to bring you up into bed that you notice something. The scars on his inner thigh have an uneven mirror; there are scars on his other thigh, as well, along an invisible inseam, but they don’t match. Those other scars look shorter and like they run deeper. It’s yet another question you’re sure you won’t get to ask anytime soon. Before he devours you, though, he cups your chin in his hand and looks over your tear-stained cheeks and lips puffy from sucking his cock with unrestrained lust.

“What is it about me like this, husband?” you ask, after it’s done and he’s come inside of you. You’re both naked, sprawled, and spent in his bed. The blood’s been lighter and lighter and soon you imagine these visits will go back to just the evenings. “Do you only like tasting women when we’re like this?”

He looks over at you and draws one arm behind his head. “Not only then,” he says. “But I like enjoying something other men are too weak to even attempt.”

You wait for him to continue his explanation, but he doesn’t. You’ve been continuously worn out and sore since your wedding night, but there’s something pleasant in your ache. Perhaps it’s just your body getting used to being thoroughly debauched on a regular basis for the first time in your life, but there’s also a part of you that’s starting to enjoy it.

“It’s time,” he adds. “To start training you. It can’t last long so it will have to be comprehensive.”

“I already have training,” you tell him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says. “Tomorrow morning.”

You consider this. “Fine. Do I sleep here tonight or in my room?”

He gives it a moment’s thought. “Yours.”

You’ve been sleeping with him the past four nights; you suppose it had to end eventually. You’re surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep next to him even with the early mornings.

“Now?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation as business-like as possible. It’s just easier that way; to shut off any impression that you want intimacy from him that he simply can’t provide. You’re pretty sure it’s impossible for him.

He looks over at you, considering. “In a few minutes,” he decides. “I’m not sure if I want to go again tonight or not.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you a few times, his eyes-half-lidded as his gaze goes up and down the length of your body. When you meet his gaze he looks back at you as if to say, What? Am I not allowed to look at my own wife?

He finally tells you what hour he wants you up. “Get a good night’s rest,” he adds. “You’ll need it.”

He sits up to watch you as you rise from bed, padding naked over to his dresser. He stares unapologetically at your form as you get dressed and leave for your quarters. Construction for the door connecting your bathroom to his is almost complete, and soon you won’t need to leave your quarters to meet him in his.

********

Idrisa wakes you up early.

“My apologies, my Lady, but the Na-Baron wants you to meet him in the Training Halls before breakfast,” she says, holding a pair of flat boots and a couple of other garments in her arms. “He has this for you to wear,” she adds, setting the boots on the floor and everything else on the dresser. “Your coffee is on the desk. He’s given you half an hour to get ready and wants you to bring your dagger.”

You blink, trying to take in what she’s saying before rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyelid. Right. The training.

“Would you like any assistance, or would you like me to wait by the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, wondering for a moment if Feyd-Rautha was preparing you to get up this early for the past few days knowing that you’d be training with him.

Probably not. I think he just wanted to fuck in the mornings too .

You sip your coffee before plaiting your hair and taking a look at the clothes your new husband wants you to wear.

It's a practical training outfit; you're pretty sure that Geidi Prime doesn't make training clothes for women, and that he had this commissioned for you given that it fits better, especially in the hips, than you expected. Women on Geidi Prime don’t serve in combat, much like your own planet and if there’s any formal training for women you haven’t heard about it yet.

You manage to make it to the Training Halls in time but still not feeling fully awake.

Feyd-Rautha senses you from the moment you enter, even at the farthest end of the room. It occurs to you that you haven’t seen him in something as innocuous as training gear yet; simple trousers and boots, a fitted but breathable black shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, a holster strapped to his thigh. If it weren’t for his bearing he could almost blend into his surroundings.

“Good morning, Na-Baron,” you tell him with a polite incline of your head, figuring that his most formal title would be best to address him in front of the very men he’s meant to lead. You imagine that you make an unusual match for him as it is given how unambiguously foreign you are.

“Good, you’re here,” he says. His tone is casual, light; in front of his men, you may as well be an acquaintance. “We have a lot to cover, but today my main agenda today is to see your skill level as it is now. When we first met you said you were out of practice. How long has it been since you’ve sparred?”

You try to think. “It’s been about eight months since I’ve done anything,” you admit.

“And when did you start?” he asks.

“Age fifteen,” you tell him.

“And how often would you train?” he asks.

“About an hour, two or three times a week,” you tell him.

He looks both unsurprised and unimpressed with this new information. Instead he takes a small, black device from the waistband of his pants and holds it up. “Have you used one of these before?” You immediately recognize it as a shield activator.

“I have, Na-Baron,” you tell him. “During fighting lessons.”

“Good. You’ll be using one for all of our sessions, just in case.” He hands it over to you to clip onto your own waistband before he signals to another man who’s slight of build and several inches shorter than him. The man strides over to you and lowers his head in deference.

“Na-Baroness,” he says.

“This is Korvo,” Feyd-Rautha says. “He’ll make a suitable opponent,” he says, looking you both over as if to confirm that the two of you are in a similar enough weight class. “Which are you more familiar with? Knife or dagger?”

“I would say the dagger,” you tell him.

“Then I’ll start you off with the knife,” he says. “Start with mid-range fighting and work from there.”

“Alright,” you say, looking over at Korvo, who finally raises his head to look you in the eye. They’re dark brown; there’s a scar along where one of his eyebrows would be. His expression is entirely neutral; if he has a single opinion about you, you’d have no idea. It’s been a week since the wedding and you still don’t know how any of Harkonnen's subjects feel about you.

Feyd-Rautha pulls a knife from one of many lining the walls and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the handle. He releases it immediately, watching you adjust it in your hand.

“How’s the grip?” he prompts.

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, glancing over at him before he steps back to a safe distance, and turning your attention back to your opponent as you turn on your shields and settle into position. Korvo does the same, staying still until you both hear Feyd-Rautha’s voice give the simple command, “ Go. ”

You circle each other, and you try to remember your footwork, trying not to cross one leg in front of the other, keeping your stance guarded.

Korvo waits, letting you get nervous as you keep expecting him to make the first move. He makes no offense until you finally think, Oh, get on with it, and lunge first.

For a minute Korvo seems to let you get reacquainted with the practice; one of you strikes, the other blocks, still circling each other. You remember to play to your strengths, which you’ve been told is your form and your flexibility.

So far so good, you think as you block a blow to your shoulder. Then he sweeps his leg, nearly tripping you, and you realize that you haven’t been paying enough attention to his footwork, too preoccupied with his upper body. You startle and recover, regaining your balance just in time for him to swipe, and he’s closer than you realized. When did he get this close?

Too fast! you think, gasping as you try to lean back, as Korvo’s knife swipes just under your breasts, your ribcage protected only by your shield that reverberates with the resistance so hard that your teeth chatter.

“One,” Feyd-Rautha says. He sounds like he’s moving to get a better view as you and Korvo progress. You try to tune him out, inhaling sharply, before finding an opening at your opponent’s left side and lunging.

You’re proud of yourself for about two seconds in which your knife meets Korvo’s shield, even as the humming of it reverberates in your bones. Korvo counters with a knock of his forearm against yours with a force that knocks you off balance again before you realize that he’d been holding back. There’s a mechanical coldness in his eyes as he moves. You can only counter and have no time to lunge or attack, just trying to keep up with the barrage of swipes as he gains on you, forcing you back, before he lunges.

You stumble and trip, falling flat on your ass and in the blink of an eye Korvo’s on top of you, his blade at your heart, and you scream.

Were it not for your shield you’d be dead , you think as you stare, panting and wide-eyed up at the man who’s far more lethal than his appearance would suggest.

He immediately withdraws the knife. “Na-Baroness,” he says, tone apologetic, as he offers you a hand to guide you up. You’re just glad you fell on the flesh of your backside and not your tailbone. You hadn’t realized it was happening, too caught up in your work with Korvo, but people are watching you.

Of course people are watching; you’re new, you’re unfamiliar, and you’re the future Baroness. You sense their gazes on you but you ignore the embarrassed flush and turn to look over at Feyd-Rautha. It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and longer still since you felt so out of your depth.

He considers you, head tilted, arms crossed, as he looks between you and Korvo. Finally he speaks, stepping in closer to you both. “Alright, you have some decent baseline form and technique but you still need to reacquaint yourself, especially with speed and footwork. Korvo will continue to train you.

“Speaking of which,” he turns and immediately punches the man hard in the stomach and as the man drops, raises a knee to spike him in the jaw. You recoil at the sickening crunch.

“For scaring my wife,” he explains to the man now crumpled on the floor.

“ Was that necessary? ” you demand, voice cracking.

“He’ll be fine,” Feyd says. “We have Healers for anything broken, and I can help you with the rest of our session today. I’ll test out your skills with that cute little letter-opener you keep hidden in your boot.” He grabs another shield activator from a nearby table and clips it on.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Korvo slowly getting up and spitting a small wad of blood onto the floor before shuffling to his feet. An attendant quickly comes to his aid and escorts him from the Halls. You look down, not wanting to see whatever Feyd-Rautha may have done to his mouth or jaw.

“Now I’m going to want to get an idea of where you stand with the dagger,” Feyd-Rautha says, getting your attention again, holding out his hand for you to hand over the knife, which, once he has back, he hands over to another attendant to set amongst the others.

“Let’s see it,” he says when he turns, nodding at your boot.

You haven’t pulled it out of its holster since your last lesson eight months ago. You’ve been carrying it around with you more as a good-luck charm rather than a weapon since then. You pull up your pant-leg to unclip it and draw it out. It’s a very pretty blade, if you do say so yourself. The handle was made with a woman’s sensibilities in mind. Feyd-Rautha waits for you to unclip it from its holster and tilts his head when he sees it.

“Ornamental,” he says.

“Still functional,” you tell him as you hand it over and watch him twirl it in his hand and examine the blade. It was designed specifically for you, so it’s almost baffling how deftly his larger fingers twirl it with such ease. He looks at it as if it shares deeply guarded secrets about you before looking back at you.

"The dagger's close range," he says, as if you didn't already know. “What were you taught about evasion and disarming techniques?”

“In the event of an ambush, don't rely on brute strength, don't hesitate, and don't bother trying to fight honorably. It’s not a duel; they're not looking for a fair fight, either.”

“Good. Let’s start with disarming techniques,” he says. “In case you’re caught unarmed or unable to reach your weapon.”

The first exercise is easier; it’s one of the first things you’ve ever learned, the way to grab his wrist and pinch the flesh of his palm. This is familiar, and you ease back into the confidence you’d had earlier. After a few goes of it, Feyd-Rautha watching your form, decides to move on–you have no doubt that he’ll come back to this, go faster, go meaner. This all seems to be a diagnostic, something he can use to gauge your potential.

“Alright, you get the concept,” he says. “Let’s move on to disarming an opponent who’s behind you.”

Fine . You assume nothing will phase you quite as much as sparring with Korvo earlier as you get back into a neutral stance, waiting for the tell-tale signs of moving feet, but instead you feel the long, chiseled lines of your husband’s chest and stomach against your back, his free arm wrapped around your ribcage, and your own dagger at your neck. Or rather, you feel the hum of both of your shields vibrate at the contact.

Oh. This kind of close range . You inhale sharply. You don’t need to see Feyd-Rautha’s face to see the unrestrained delight in his eyes.

“Nervous?” he asks.

Exposed . Your pulse quickens. He hasn’t done anything, he’s fully dressed. His hand is on your ribcage, not your breasts or between your legs, but you feel like the two of you shouldn’t be doing this with other people around. They have their own training to get through, of course, but they’re noticing. Even as they keep their heads down and try not to stare, they’re paying attention. They’re probably wondering how you take the Na-Baron's cock inside of you each night.

The vibration of his shield merging with yours doesn’t help.

You take a breath and twist in his arms before he tightens his hold.

“Sloppy work,” he says.

You would argue in your defense that your previous instructors for this weren’t men who’ve been inside of you or licked your pussy until you screamed from the nerve-shattering pleasure of it. It’s more distracting this way.

He starts the position again, his front against your back as he presses the dagger just up against your shield, the hum of it so close to your throat it gives off an almost-purring sound.

Do you like being pressed up against me? you want to ask.

He answers before you get the chance. “I changed my mind. I’ll instruct your close range fighting personally.”

You could laugh, but instead you simply reach behind you, grabbing his crotch and twisting hard–with the shield it won’t hurt him in the slightest, but you were told it was one of the most effective ways to disarm a male opponent.

He snorts and presses the tip of your dagger further against your neck. “Should’ve known you’d go there, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. “It’s not always a reliable technique.”

He’s aroused. You can feel the outline of his cock straining against his trousers as it presses against you.

“Try again,” he says.

*********

Two hours later you’re worn out and beset with what you’re sure will become bruises. So, all in all a very typical two hours with your groom.

You part ways so you can each shower, change, and reconvene for breakfast.

“Unless you’re actually sick or he’s elsewhere, my uncle wants you to attend breakfast and dinner with him as a sign of respect,” Feyd-Rautha tells you. “But you’re free to do as you wish and go where you like during the day.”

That freedom would sound more appealing if you enjoyed going outside, but you still get short of breath easily every time you go out under that black sun, so that means more research, more time listening to language recordings, and more time re-learning everything you forgot plus everything you hadn’t realized you didn’t learn about self-defense.

But today you end up re-reading from books you brought from your old home and writing letters to each of your family members. You write to them about learning basic battle language, about how your husband has recently taken the liberty of teaching you what he knows about self-defense to build on what you’ve already learned. You ask them about the weather, about your friends, about how their lives have changed since you last saw them. It feels far longer than a week. You ask about the stars, about the natural light displays. Your planet has a beautiful night sky. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ll see it again one day, even if it’s not as soon as you’d like.

Feyd-Rautha’s as polite and restrained towards you at dinner as he always is in his uncle’s presence. During your meals together he seems detached, almost indifferent to you when you’re pretty sure he’s not. He doesn’t show an ounce of warmth but always pulls your chair out for you and waits until you’re seated to sit down himself.

You find that you prefer it; you don’t want the Baron to get so much of a glimpse of the carnality of your marriage and the way his nephew takes you apart with enthusiasm that’s almost frightening.

The only indication that Feyd gives of his interest in you is when you’re both leaving the Dining Hall and he stops to mutter in your ear, “Tonight I’ll come to your chambers instead.”

You think about how he’d gotten hard during practice. When you’re getting ready for the night’s rendezvous you wonder if he took care of it himself in the bathroom later that morning or if he decided to hold off until he could unleash his pent-up lust on you.

You get your answer when you’re in only your robe.

“Your husband, the Na-Baron,” Idrisa says, eyes downcast, as she opens the door for him. He’s barefoot, in just a pair of trousers he quickly undoes, and it’s clear both that he’s already hard and that he’s wearing nothing underneath. Your eyes widen.

Idrisa’s still in the room! you want to snap at him. She doesn’t want to see you like this!

Instead you watch as he steps out of his trousers and hands them off to Idrisa without a word or a look back at her. She inclines her head, accepts the garment, and turns to neatly fold it and place it on top of the dresser.

“Thank you, Idrisa, you are relieved,” you tell her, and she inclines her head and leaves after a soft, ‘ Thank you, Na-Baroness .’ You drop your robe, standing beside the bed as he comes closer. You look at each other for a moment. He raises his browline at your wide eyes.

“Is this another test?” you ask finally.

“Just something new,” he says. He glances towards the bed and back at you. Go on, get in , he seems to say.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide into bed, sitting up with your hands braced behind you as you wait for him to follow, unsure what position he’ll want you in.

As it turns out, you’re exactly where he wants you. You feel the dip of the mattress as he gets in, planting one knee in between your legs, then the other, before descending upon you. He leans in and you lean back, letting your head hit the pillows as he braces himself above you and latches his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking what you’re sure will be little pink and red marks that his men will notice tomorrow when you train.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he says. “I was nearly about to fuck you in the Training Halls during our session.”

“There were other people there,” you tell him.

“I could’ve told them to leave,” he says, in a tone that suggests he wouldn’t have cared either way. “Next time I might. And then I’ll pull down your pants and claim you on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to give you a rebuttal before he kisses you fiercely and you can’t help but respond in kind, as spent as you feel.

You cry out, back arching at the first full thrust of him inside of you, and he smiles.

Oh yeah , he seems to think. I’d make sure everyone can hear the noises I draw out of you . He braces one arm beside your head, holds your hip with his free hand as he normally does at first when he’s taking you in this position. He watches your face, your breasts and the movement of them as he rocks into you, his mouth open as he slides his hand from his hip to the small of your back. And then he sits up on his haunches, taking you with him. You gasp, a high-pitched moan spilling out of you at the change of angles. You scramble to get your knees under you in time as he continues thrusting upwards, one arm around your back and his other hand still clutching your hip.

“Ah!” you manage, sliding down onto him. It’s the most leverage you’ve gotten with him, making you gasp and whine as you hold onto him; it’s the most he’s really let you move and it comes instinctively. He lets you take over the rhythm that he started as you roll your hips on top of him and clutch at his back.

In a sense it feels almost like you’re the one fucking him, him rocking up to meet your movements and his hands on your hips encouraging you. The heat grows faster this way, with the angle and the friction and the way he eases up and follows your pace, his harsh breath against your ear as you keep thinking about how you want to kiss him but your gasps and moans against the open air are too much for you to collect yourself enough for that. The desperate noises that he pulls out of you, that you pull out of yourself, spill from you without thought, louder than his own grunts and growls. You just keep moving, faster and harder, your nipples stiff and your entire body flushed as your body chases after your release.

I’m close. I’m so close , you want to tell him if only you could speak. Instead you find a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and lean down to bite down as you keep grinding down on him. That’s the moment that does it for him, and you gasp, rocking down onto him one last time as he comes within you. Your hips jerk and stutter as you feel him painting your insides and remove your mouth from his neck with a sloppy lick and try to find your bearings. You’re still on top of him, he’s still inside of you, you’re both panting and you wonder if he feels as close to delirious as you do. You’re still hot, still pulsing, and give a closed-mouth whine as you squirm on top of him. C’mon, please , you want to tell him. I was almost there .

He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth, before with a snarl he grabs your hips to hold you still and brings his thumb down to where you’re joined. It takes only a few passes, especially when he brings his mouth just under your ear.

You come around him, shutting your eyes around the intensity and digging your nails into his shoulders; you’re starting to grow them longer for this very purpose.

He holds onto you, his forehead resting against your shoulder. He stays inside of you as he wraps one arm around your back, uses his free hand to clutch your hip as you readjust for the second time and he lowers you back down on the bed.

You assume that once you hit the mattress again that he’ll pull out and pull away but he doesn’t; he pulls his hand out from under you but otherwise stays where he is, buried inside of you and draping over you to rest his head against your sweat-damp collarbone. It’s like he’s sinking into you, laying on you, still inside of you even as he’s going soft. It feels oddly nice. Like he’s finding a home within you. As if the two of you are actually coupled by choice rather than mandate. Even the weight of him on top of you feels somehow reassuring.

You absently stroke his back and wonder what he’d look like with hair. What color would it be? What texture? He has long eyelashes, but there’s little else to go off of.

“Is my hair going to fall out?” you wonder aloud after a moment. It’s a reasonable question to have; none of your body hair has grown in again, not even a hint of stubble.

Feyd-Rautha pauses and raises himself up on one forearm to look at you properly, perhaps trying to figure out if there’s an implied insult in your question.

“I just wonder how all of that works here,” you tell him.

“You can’t lose something that never grows in the first place,” he says. “People born on Geidi Prime never grow any as long as they’re living here.”

You frown as you run your fingertips along the back of his head. “But you weren’t born on Geidi Prime, either. I looked it up; you were born on Lankiveil.”

“When I came here I was ordered to have everything shaved off,” he says. “None of it ever grew back.”

You consider this, enjoying the tenderness he’s letting you show him for now. “Is that why you have eyelashes?” you ask, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. There’s the faint memory of freckles on his cheeks; it makes you wonder what his pigment would be on a planet with a proper sun.

“Yes. He didn’t think removing them was necessary,” he says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and his tone is clear: I don’t want to talk about my uncle while I’m still inside of you .

Fair enough. He sinks back down, content to forget the entire conversation, and you drop it, but because this is the first time since you’ve met that you truly feel comfortable with him, you keep talking.

“What was it like on Lankiveil?” you ask him.

He gives an irritated huff. “Why,” he says.

“Just curious,” you say. “The climate sounds a lot like my planet. I grew up surrounded by water, too.”

He sighs, his chest expanding. “Then there’s not much to tell you, now is there,” he says again, voice flat. After a moment, “Even if you were blind and deaf you could smell that you were on an ocean planet just from the salty air. It was cold, damp, dark.”

“ Hmmm .” There are so many questions you want to ask. Did you like it, though? What did you like about it? Have you ever missed it? Were you happy back then? Did you love the family you’ve lost? Have you ever tried going back? You won’t ask them, not anytime soon and potentially not ever. “It’s not a smell you ever think you’ll miss,” you say instead, both hands absently stroking his back and shoulders in no particular pattern.

“Didn’t say I missed it,” Feyd says immediately.

“I do, though.” You already miss the sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks and stormy sunsets over the rolling tide. Geidi Prime has nothing. It’s a wasteland devoid of life, devoid of seasons. You try not to think about that, and instead the new information Feyd-Rautha’s given you.

Your children will be hairless . You’d implicitly assumed, but it paints a more vivid picture of what to expect.

“You miss home already?” he asks.

Of course I do. Geidi Prime's atmosphere is overwhelming and you're far away from your family. Idrisa’s the only friend you've made and she's obligated to spend time with you. Of course I'd rather be home than here.

But you're not about to tell him that right now, not while you’re the closest thing to content that you’ve felt since you landed. “It’s just what I’m familiar with,” you tell him. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

He finally slides out of you as he raises his head again, and you can’t place his expression, but you’re struck with a thought as you bring one hand to his face.

I really want to kiss you right now.

You almost do, and maybe he can see it in your face. You’re not sure how you’re looking at him but he blinks, looking at first your eyes and then your lips, and before you can lean up he gets up, slides out of bed, and pads over to your bathroom. You turn to your side to watch him go, to see his shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the slope of his ass, and those long legs and how even when soft his cock hangs between them. Tomorrow construction will be complete and your quarters will be connected to his.

Given his abrupt departure to the bathroom, when he returns you expect him to pull on his trousers and leave, but instead he slides back into bed alongside you without a word.

He settles for a moment, turning to face you. He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“Even with the protections you have, it would reflect poorly on me and the Fortress if we had you training while you’re showing, if you’re not pregnant already,” he says.

“I’m no Bene Gesserit,” you tell him. “I can’t tell if I’m pregnant yet, can’t control or predict the sex of the baby–”

“I wouldn’t want a Bene Gesserit wife,” he says. “I can barely tolerate them as is. That’s not the point. We train you as well as we can for the limited time you have.

“But while we're talking about the Bene Gesserit, they will be visiting in three weeks for my birthday. They'll be able to sniff out right away if you're pregnant or not.”

“Given the rate that we’ve been going, that won’t be an issue,” you tell him.

He looks down at your stomach, as if picturing how soon it’s going to swell with his progeny. “Training to be a warrior starts early,” he says. “I was seven when I began and that was later than normal, so I had to work harder than the others to make up for lost time.

“This is not an easy planet to grow up on, so the training is necessary. Especially with Arrakis. We’ve been in conflict for decades and it’s only gotten more severe.”

“Spice production isn’t your only means of industry,” you tell him. What Geidi Prime lacks in vegetation it makes up for in fuel and minerals that get heavily mined.

“Maybe not, but it’s our most lucrative, and until we find a different planet with as much spice as Arrakis, we won’t end our occupation there. In any case, we need to remind the Fremen of our might. I want to build my troops to be the most powerful in the universe. That’s what our children are meant to inherit. That’s what I want to lead and for our son to take over after I’m gone.”

After I’m gone .

Within ten minutes he takes you again, against your headboard as he holds you up, hands under your ass and your legs wrapped around his hips. He mounts you like you’re an animal he killed for sport and hung up on his wall as he murmurs something in Harkonnen battle language against your neck and all you can make out are my woman and something about his semen. He controls the pace this time, fucking you up the length of the headboard as you hold onto him, moaning and panting.

Afterwards you lay side by side, and you look over at him as he starts to doze off, one arm across his ribcage, the other behind his head, one leg bent at the side. His lashes flutter closed. He looks peaceful. He'd be blond, you realize. His lashes are fair so his hair would be some shade of blond. Or rather, he was blond, once.

Perhaps he’d be too beautiful with hair and a normal mouth, you think. Maybe the strange appearance is another layer of armor. The teeth certainly are; he must dye them with some kind of charcoal.

“What,” he says again, his tone annoyed even as he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Nothing,” you say simply, and turn away. When you’ve slept together it’s been with his chest against your back. Neither of you have discussed it, but you both seem to prefer it.

As you drift off you picture a version of him with more pigmentation; sun-kissed skin sprinkled with more freckles; wavy blond hair and tawny eyebrows, a white-toothed smile. A version of him almost too pretty to look at, in a life he was never going to have.

**********

You wake up as the early morning trickles in a sickly gray from the window.

Feyd’s turned away from you at some point during the night and it registers as odd, not having the already-familiar sensation of the warmth of his body against your back and his cock nestled against you. You blink, turning around, and seeing that his back is turned towards you. For some reason his scars look worse in the morning light. Your pink little scratches and bite-marks will fade soon and be replaced by others; the lash-marks will probably never go away.

You reach out, fingertips skimming his back. The unmarred skin is so soft, stretched over the sinewy muscle, that the raised skin of his scars feels like a road map of what he’s quick to endure. You wonder about the scars along his inner thighs, if he’d let you touch them. You think about how you’d like to, how you’d like to explore more of his body as you trail your fingertips along the deepest and ugliest of his lesions.

No sooner do you think that then you can sense Feyd waking and turning to face you in an instant. It takes you by shock, barely able to comprehend what’s happening, as he grabs your wrist in a vice.

His pale eyes look silver; his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched. For a moment it’s like he doesn’t see you.

You want to pull back but he holds onto your wrist–for a moment you worry that he’ll squeeze tighter and shatter the delicate bones. The two of you stare, caught in silence. Then he blinks and seems to take in the fear and confusion in your eyes, and whatever he saw wasn’t you, not with the recognition sinking in. He releases your wrist, looks away, and rolls in the opposite direction of you.

“What are you–?” you start, stunned. You feel utter whiplash from the difference a few seconds could make, unsure exactly what you did.

He gets up without a word. He doesn’t look back at you as he pulls on his trousers.

“What did I do?” you ask him.

He pauses, starts to look back, and turns his head back to the door and leaves. You stare after the door once he’s shut it behind him, wondering what happened.

You don’t go back to sleep. You lay in bed for the hours it takes for light to more prominently trickle in.

Not that he said it out loud, but you think you just got confirmation for how he got those scars.

Tags: @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #dune part 2 #dune 2 #feyd rautha x you

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aeithalian · 1 year

Text

Rick. Buddy. Amigo. Explain something to me. Real quick, I promise.

[The Trials of Apollo: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 4]

Good genetic package, Rick/Apollo? Are you sure about that?

Listen.

Estelle's physical description *clap* makes *clap* no *clap* sense. Why on earth does one of the only fully human characters in this series have to have unique and weird physical traits? Also, it makes no sense in the larger scope of Rick's writing style to have chosen this unless he had some sort of larger intention behind it. Not to mention the theories by fans haven't really done much to fully flesh out any perceivable reason as to why this might be:

Poseidon blessed Sally when she was pregnant - By far, this is the most believable to me, but it's still eh, because this feels very weird and I don't get the vibes from Poseidon that he would have done so to the extent that it shows up in Estelle's physical traits. Also if that were true, it doesn't make sense for Rick to just fully drop it in the story without the intention to flesh it out further, because to my knowledge he doesn't have plans for another novel that takes place after ToA.

Paul isn't Estelle's father - Firstly, this is out of character for Sally, and this doesn't fully justify why Estelle has Percy's eyes. PLUS, salt-and-pepper hair still wouldn't be natural for a newborn

Paul is Poseidon in disguise - This explains her traits the best, but Paul's character is so much more satisfying if this isn't true. It's also total bullshit.

Enter me. I have a theory. Yay. But first, we must discuss.

Firstly, I want to talk about her eyes. Going back to the theories, and based on my fair amount of knowledge of genetics (clarification: I write this as I procrastinate studying for my final genetics exam), the eyes are mostly interesting because Apollo specifies that they are immediately similar Percy's. The thing about eye genetics, though, is that they are what we consider to be 'complex traits', meaning that they are influenced by the interactions of multiple genes from both parents. What I mean to point out here is that Sally could definitely have the genes to produce two children with 'sea-green' eyes, considering her canonical eye color is blue. We don't know what Paul's eye color is, which makes my job a whole lot easier because I can assume that it doesn't directly contradict the possibility that Sally just has really strong eye genes (?). ALSO, who's to say that Poseidon didn't just change his eye color to match Percy's when he was born? Ah, yes, the perks of having a shapeshifting dad who seemingly loves you and your eye color a lot (but is still absentee, WHOOPS).

But what I actually found the most interesting about Estelle was her hair color. More specifically, the fact that Apollo says he's never seen an infant with that color hair. And we know Apollo is somewhat of an unreliable narrator (although this rarely affects his descriptions of people other than himself, and has also mostly evolved into a more honest narration since the end of book 3), but I believe we're supposed to trust this dude who just so happens to have been alive for over four millennia. Based on Apollo's previous descriptions of his own powers (see his conversations with Percy in TTC, when he pulls a Mufasa and basically admits to seeing everything the light touches), we know that Apollo knows and has seen a lot of stuff. So, how is this the first time he's seemingly witnessed this type of hair mutation?

I did some research, as one does. To me, it seems as if Estelle has what's called Griscelli syndrome, which is a type of rare autosomal genetic mutation that typically results in phenotypic hypopigmentation of the skin and hair. (It can also result in neurological disorders and immunodeficiency, based on the type, but I digress.) It's also pretty rare, considering both parents have to be carriers, and even then the child still has a one in four chance of being affected. Current statistics from the NIH say that Griscelli syndrome currently presents in less than 1000 Americans, and is rapidly fatal in 1-4 years without aggressive treatment.

That sad note aside, it's weird to me that the way Rick wrote Estelle's physical description makes it seem as if Apollo had never seen anything similar. I feel like a god of both medicine and knowledge would probably be a bit more up to speed with rare genetic disorders, especially because he's so old. The only explanations are that Apollo, in his mortal state, can't make a diagnosis, OR what he's seeing isn't actually something he can diagnose.

FURTHERMORE, from the same chapter, Apollo says something that muddies the waters even further:

It doesn't make sense that Apollo thinks that Zeus would take such an interest in Estelle. Her nature alone doesn't make me think that the king of the gods would take a sudden interest in a literal newborn, regardless of how much Apollo loves her (and honestly, I don't blame him).

What I think? Rick pulled the strings just tight enough that he has a very interesting plot point to go off of if he ever decides to pick up the pen again and write a new book.

What I think? Estelle doesn't have Griscelli syndrome, she is in much more danger than anyone realizes, and Apollo's subconscious put this together from the second he saw her.

Actually, let's rewind. I'm in the process of writing a fic (stay tuned!) and I had a random thought: do the Greeks have an apocalypse story? You know, like Ragnarök in the Norse mythos, and the Revelation stories in the Bible.

The answer? They don't. I guess that's what you get when the Greco-Roman gods are fully immortal and literally can't be killed.

That didn't stop the rabbit hole, though, and what I found was actually very interesting and I couldn't believe what I was reading.

I give you: Hesiod. More specifically, his poem Works and Days. More more specifically, his 'ages of man'. More more more specifically, the iron age.

For context, Hesiod was an ancient Greek poet who lived in the 8th century BC, and was walking right along with Homer in terms of fame at the time. The poem Works and Days is actually more of a really long Facebook post where he complains about anything and everything, especially in his section on the ages of man.

In summary, Hesiod wrote about what he perceived to be the five stages of human life since the creation of mankind by Zeus' hand:

gold: perfect in every way, pious, and blessed by the gods

silver: real bitches, the ugly middle child, so Zeus killed them

bronze: were so violent they wiped each other out

heroic: golden child, contained the heroes of the Greek mythos

iron: middle-aged men still living in their mom's basement

Hesiod wrote his poem during what he perceived to be the Iron age (it's really just him complaining about being born in the wrong generation), but he ends up listing a lot of qualities: 'everyone works too hard, the gods hate us, nobody respects family values anymore', blah blah blah.

I know what you're thinking: Tia, what does this have to do with an apocalypse?

Well, dear reader, bear with me. You see, every time Zeus didn't like an age of mankind, or it became too violent, or it generally wasn't pious enough, Zeus wouldn't hesitate to destroy that race and start over. Basically, an apocalypse.

So, you may ask a new question: what is the criteria for Zeus to destroy the Iron age? And, assuming that this is the age we're currently in, what would it take for Zeus to destroy everything our beloved Riordanverse characters know and love?

My friend, that is where Estelle comes in. Yes, a baby.

Take this excerpt regarding the Iron age:

"And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

My theory? Estelle, in her unique position as a bridge between not just the mortals and the demigods (eg. her relationship with Percy), but also the mortals and the gods (eg. her great impression on Apollo), is a living, breathing prophecy. A prophecy that the end is nigh for this current age of mankind.

Furthermore, I also think that Apollo made this connection, somewhere in the back of his mind, the very second he realized that her hair was entirely unique. According to Hesiod (who Apollo also mentions later in the book, so we know he knows who Hesiod is), the day that babies are born with gray hair (or, salt-and-pepper for the sake of the theory) is the second Zeus basically get the go-ahead to commit genocide.

This also brilliantly explains why Apollo suddenly, and seemingly without reason, makes to keep Estelle's existence a secret from Zeus, because he knows that it might be the easiest way to get everyone he knows and loves killed by his own father for "the greater good" as I'm sure Zeus will put it. Plus, in his mortal state, Rick didn't have to explain why Apollo did what he did, since Apollo's been having memory issues since the beginning of the series: why would he remember one line from a poem written almost three thousand years ago?

Frankly, Zeus doesn't care about mortals: the only reason he really cares about anyone is if they have enough power to threaten his own, or if they have some sort of power he can benefit from. This, certainly, falls under the category of the latter. Wouldn't you want a chance to remake humanity into the perfect image that it used to be? You would, if you hadn't gone through a five book long grow-a-conscience speedrun like our lovely Apollo over here.

Fortunately for Rick, this is such an outrageous theory that if it never comes to fruition, I won't be surprised. If he ever writes something similar, though, know I called it first.

EDIT: here's the fic i mentioned i was (am) writing

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

#riordanverse #trials of apollo #apollogists #also that fic i mentioned will definitely be including this #estelle blofis #theory #fan theory #also if you were wondering my genetics exam went well thanks for asking

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notfreetoday · 9 months

Text

My Personal Weatherman Ep 1 Subtitle Corrections

So I've been analysing the way MPW uses language to showcase the dynamic between Segasaki and Yoh - something that I suspect is not quite coming through with the English subs - and decided to watch Ep 1-3 again, with Eng subs this time. I am now going to complain about some of the subtitle and translation choices and edit them way too literally because I'm nerdy like that.

Disclaimer: Everyone translates differently for different audiences. This is not meant to disrespect the official translation team in any way because they are subbing for a more general audience and have different pressures, so don't come at me or them for our different priorities. I'm talking to the particular group of viewers who like this show and/or like Japanese and want to go a step further in interacting with the characters. That said, I'm happy to discuss MY translation choices so please feel free to drop in about any line.

Under cut because this GOT REALLY LONG.

I'm translating directly from the Jp, so sometimes my subs differ only slightly - I will lean towards a more literal translation here because that will allow me to explain my language analysis better in a follow up post so some phrasing may be awkward. Big changes/missing info have been italicised and bolded. Explanations of nuances/connotations have been added where I feel they add to the understanding of the character/scene, and the relevant phrase is marked with * in my translation and the Jp.

Ep 1

[S: だから、漫画つずけりゃいいじゃんって　衣食住の金は保証してやるから　おれんとこに来い。んで、その代わり　*俺の言うこと全部聞け]

Original: I said, just keep drawing manga. I’ll take care of your food and lodging *expenses, so come to my place. And in return, you’ll do everything I say.

Mine: I said, *it's fine (for you) to continue (being a) manga (artist). I'll take care of the expenses for your *food, clothing and lodging so, come (live) at my place. And, in exchange for that, (you must) *listen to everything I say.

*This whole paragraph is extremely blunt and direct. Every sentence is worded as an order, and this last line especially - the word "listen" is used here to mean "obey" - so this line really translates to, "in exchange for that, (I want you) to obey my every word". The reason it's not been translated this way is that it sounds so strong it borders on corny in English. In Jp though, the connotation of "obey" comes across not in the words but in the extremely strong/direct delivery of the line (contrasted with the extremely nonchalent tone), so it sounds more shocking/overbearing than it does corny. The original translation here works very well actually.

Technically Segasaki introduces himself here as 気象解説員 (weather forecaster) as opposed to 気象予報士 (meteorologist), but in the show's character bios, and when Man-san talks about him later, he's called a meteorologist anyway, so this difference is of absolutely no importance (I'm just anal like that). FYI, in Japan, all qualified meteorologists (who must pass a national exam) can be forecasters, but not all forecasters have this qualification.

[Y: 明日も雨…か*] Original: More rain tomorrow Mine: There'll be rain again tomorrow, huh? *Said with a falling tone, the "huh" here hints that Yoh is likely a little down/disappointed about the rain continuing, and lays the ground for his reaction later about the rainy season.

[M: 人を沼に召喚しといて　何なの？その態度 S: いや　むしろ　万さんがかなり能動的に突っ込んできた印象しかないんだけど M: ごちゃごちゃうるさい　ややこしいオタクめ S: ごめん　ややこしくて]

Original: M: Why summon someone into your otaku pit and act like that? Y: No, it’s more like you actively intrude into my life M: You’re being noisy and complicated, you complicated otaku Y: Sorry for being complicated…

Mine: M: (You’re the one who) dragged me into this fandom, (so) what’s with that attitude? Y: No, on the contrary, I have the distinct impression that it was you, Man-san, who pretty much jumped right in of your own volition M: (You’re) babbling nonsense (you) troublesome otaku Y: Sorry for being troublesome

[S: めし　なに？ Y: あ、しょーしょうがやき]

Original: S: What do you want for dinner? Y: Stir-fried ginger

Mine: S: What's for dinner? Y: Sho-shogayaki

Shogayaki is a style of cooking meat, usually pork, where you stir fry the meat with ginger. Unless the type of meat is specified, it refers to Pork Stir Fried with Ginger, or Ginger Pork Stir Fry. Very common home cooked dish.

[S: あ、そ] (A, so?) S: Oh, is that so?

"I see" is a totally ok translation too. "A, so" can mean "Oh I see" or "Oh is that right" or "Oh is that so" etcetc but it has the air of a really bored "Oh, really?/Sure/If you say so" This is why Yoh's reaction after this is "if you aren't interested then don't ask!". This is the first of many times that Segasaki will use this phrase, as we will see in the following episodes, so I'm highlighting it here for now.

No translation issues here - but I just want to point out that it's reeaaally difficult to make tasteless shogayaki hahaha If you've had ginger stir fried in anything you'll know - it's not a meek herb at all. Canonically, Yoh is apparently a really bad cook. This will be pointed out again later, when he makes curry, because again, it's gotta be some kind of talent to make bland japanese curry; it's r*eeeeaally *easy. Anyway, the sauce that Segasaki asks for here is Soy Sauce, which is different from the sauce that he asks for later! Seems like a few people think they're the same thing (also pay attention to the sauce rack position here - Yoh'll will move it closer to himself by their next dinner hahaha)

[Y: ちかいんだよ、いちいち*] Y: He (leans in) so close, every (damn) time*!

*Not sure if this comes across, but the word for "every time" here is usually associated with slight annoyance, but the way "close" is said here implies Yoh's a little bashful about it.

[Y: 雨、多いな*] (ame, ooi *na...) Y: Rain...so much of it*

*This has the same feel as the "there'll be rain again tomorrow...huh" that we first saw earlier this episode. The ending particle "~na" bakes in a sigh and a sense of disappointment here (if you didn't notice the utter depression on Yoh's face lol)

[S: めし、まだ？] S: Food's not ready yet?

See, you don't notice it with the Eng translations because even the most basic Eng grammar will form a complete sentence. In Jp though, Segasaki is once again taking "man of a few words" to the extreme. He has taken out every single part of the sentence he possibly can whilst still keeping it grammatically complete. So this line is literally just "Food, not yet?". He's done this throughout the episode btw - it's why he comes across as so cold/distant.

[Y: や��ぱ　わかんねえよな] Mine: As I thought, he doesn't understand...

[Y: 結局　従ってしまう自分の従順さが憎い*] Original: I hate my obedience, always giving in Mine: In the end, the obedient part of me that always ends up following his orders - I hate* it

*the word used for "hate" here is "nikui" which is different from the word Yoh uses when he says he "hates (dai kirai)" Segasaki. "dai kirai" is simply the opposite of "dai suki" - to really like, so is more accurately "really dislike" than it is "hate" (even though it is frequently translated as such). "Nikui", which is much stronger word, bringing to mind the idea of a "strong rejection of/detest/disgust for" something.

If you didn't already know, the word "embrace" aka "抱く" here is a euphemism for "to sleep with (somebody).

Shoyu = Soy Sauce. Sauce = worcestershire sauce, unless you're in a tonkatsu shop. Then sauce = tonkatsu sauce (which is a slightly different variation). Don't look at me, I don't make the rules.

(This is very long but I'm going to write the whole monologue here)

[Y: 晴れ予報の度に抱かれて晴れ　なんて単語は　暗いなかで湿っぽく行われる　それとは　ちぐはぐなイメージなのに。。。まるでやらしい言葉みたいに　頭に刷り込まれていってわかってんのか？　あんたの口から　予報をきいて　どんな気持ちになるかわかんないんだろうな　一生考えもしないだろうなだってあんたは　恋人でもない俺に　平気でこんなことができる]

Original: Every time there’s a sunny forecast, he does it with me The word sunny feels out of place for such activity in a dark and damp room It’s as if it’s such a lewd word being forced into my mind Do you understand, how I feel when I hear that word from your mouth? You probably won’t understand or even think about it for your entire life You have no problem sleeping with someone you’re not even going out with

Mine: (He) embraces (me) every time the forecast is sunny A word like “sunny” … (brings up) a completely different image from that damp, humid activity taking place in the dark And yet (to me) it seems like a lewd, obscene word, searing (the image of) itself into my brain Do you understand? How exactly I feel when I hear the forecast from your mouth? You probably don't understand, do you? Probably won't ever think about it your entire life, right? Because you're able to do this with me, (someone)who isn't even your lover, without any issues at all

This line was ad-libbed btw, if you didn't already know (link leads to Kouhei's 16th Aug IG livestream, and his explanation starts around 07:20 mark) They've talked about this a few times on both their IG lives, and Kouhei seems to get prouder about it each time hahaha. In the linked IG, Kouhei said:

(reading a fan comment) "More" was an ad-lib?? I'm gonna die

Kouhei: Yea it was…ah that was…um, Mashiko-kun… Acchan (his nickname for Atsuki) gave me a really good expression so…somehow, (by the time) I realised (what I had done), yes, (by the time) I realised it,I had said it. Well probably saying "by the time I realised it" is weird but… yes. By the time I realised it... "even more"…(I'd wanted him) to open his mouth more so. Yes. That's all.

[S: そこそこ高給取りになる予定*だから] Original: I'm planning to *become a high earner Mine: It's likely* that I'm gonna be drawing a pretty decent salary so...

*The exact wording here is actually "(it has been) planned that (I will) become (someone) drawing a pretty decent salary so" - the way this is phrased indicates that this conversation probably happened in Segasaki's last year of university, probably right before he graduated when he already had a job lined up for himself. In Japan, your final year of university is spent interning at companies and if they like you, you'll stay on as a salaried worker, so most graduates will have something lined up before they officially leave university.

[Y: 流されるな] Y: Don't get swept away (by this) This phrase is usually used to warn people not to let themselves be swept away/caught up by the latest trends/public perception/societal expectations/their own emotions/panic etc Here, together with his insistence that he's just Segasaki's slave and so obeying him is a natural consequence, and so is sleeping with him (as opposed to Yoh doing it because he likes/wants to) - Yoh is basically telling himself "don't get swept away" by the situation/his feelings because their relationship doesn't mean anything.

[Y: じゃあ、しばらく…ないのか。*slaps face* しばらくしなくていいんだ！]

Original: So, it won't be happening, for a while huh? *slaps face* I'm fine without it for a while, right?

Mine: So then... there won't be... for a while, huh... *slaps face* (It should be) "I don't have to do it for a while!"

Again, you can see, Yoh's literally spent this entire episode trying to convince himself that he's not actually in love with Segasaki, and everything he does for Segasaki, be it listening to him, or sleeping with him etc, he does simply because he is fulfilling his end of the bargain as "a slave".

OMFG I FINISHED THAT WAS TOO DAMN LONG.

I will finish Ep 2 & 3 before I do the language analysis post. But first... I need a break....

#my personal weatherman #taikan yohou #体感予報 #MPW subtitle corrections #mytranslations #this was not supposed to happen #i just wanted to nerd out at the way they talked to each other #not do subtitle corrections gdi why am i like this #i had to split the episodes because it was getting too long #translating is hard work i respect everyone ok #but also i get very frustrated when the subs are off #otherwise i just kinda sigh and lament about all the nuances people miss #this is why i don't like to watch with eng subs #left some out that weren't too important to the storyline because otherwise this post would never see the light of day #anyway hope this helps #also hope someone comes and geeks out with me

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skzhua · 1 year

Text

Episode four.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: Swearing, mentions of divorce, mentions of deceased parents, arguing. (And Min Ho gets on my nerves in this one.)

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

"You kicked her out?" you yelled as soon as you stepped in your dorm.

Min Ho frowned in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Kitty. I just walked her to her new dormitory. I thought we agreed you wouldn't call Campus Police."

He got up from the couch and approached you close enough so you had to look up at him. "We agreed I wouldn't call Campus Police on you, which I didn't do. You never said anything about Portland Stalker."

"I wouldn't have minded that much but since her new dorm mate is weird as hell, I am concerned."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Then don't be? I don't get why you all worked up on this."

You groaned and left to barricade yourself in your room. First day of school went on even worse than you expected. You were startled when you phone started to ring.

"Y/N! We just wanted to check on you. So, first day?"

The excitement in your aunt's voice made you feel bad for not enjoying as much as you should. They had been trying to get you the scholarship for a while to give you the best scholar environment and you couldn't be ungrateful to them. Especially not when it was all Principal Lim's doing for allowing you to stay there.

"Great. I met up with Yuri and made some friends. Classes seem fun and I like my roommates."

They smiled through the small screen of your phone. "We're happy to hear that. Tomorrow, you have a class with me. I can't wait to see you there." your uncle said excitedly.

"Me too. I'll go to sleep now. Good night!"

"Good night, Y/N! Take care."

After changing into your pyjamas – that were surely too revealing for some people but you didn't care at this point – you went to the bathroom for your night routine. Min Ho was already there, doing his own skin care. While he didn't talk to you, he still stepped aside to leave you some space. Him checking you out didn't go unnoticed by you but you decided to not say anything about it. You brushed your teeth quickly and then proceeded to apply your primer.

"That's mine." Min Ho pointed out.

"It's not, I just brought it with me."

He chuckled. "I don't think you did. This is worth $200 and my mom got it for me."

You observed him take it from you. "You do realize I have money too, right?"

"Because of Principal Lim and Yuri? Yeah." he attempted to mock.

You took the primer back. "Because my rich parents died five years ago."

Stunned, he didn't move for an instant. While satisfied with the reaction you got from him, you began to regret spilling out about your parents. You usually kept it to yourself that even Yuri didn't know what happened.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know." he said, his voice now much softer.

"It's fine."

You went back to your room immediately. You didn't want to discuss it any further, nor did you want Min Ho to be pitying you. You needed sleep, and fast.

A week went by pretty quickly. Your uncle taught your history class and you both agreed to not act like family in class, although most of the students knew you were relatives. You bonded closely with Kitty over that week and rarely ever saw Yuri since she was so busy with everything going on in her life. Plus, Kitty was avoiding her as much as possible.

You, yourself, had avoided Min Ho successfully for most part. The only times you really interacted with him were in chemistry class or in the morning where he would always make you a cup of coffee.

You were walking to the library when Kitty intercepted you.

"Help. Me."

Analyzing her appearance, you took in the bags under her eyes and the hairdo that seemed have been done last minute. You held back a laugh and Kitty simply told you you could laugh at her.

"I'm so sorry, but what is this?" you sneered and gesture her whole figure.

"My roommate is the worst human being on this planet. She eats all day, screams at night, throws tissues at me – used tissues – and I have never smelled such a horrid odor. Get me out of there."

"Have you talked to the dormitory advisors?"

"Yes but they said the girls dorm is full."

You smiled apologetically. "Then there's not much you can do, I'm afraid."

She whined. "I hate this."

"You'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

"Says the one who seems to live the perfect life with the guys. How is that going for you?"

You let out a chuckle. "Q is the sweetest and Dae is pretty respectful of my privacy. But then there's freaking Min Ho who can't seem to give me a break."

She squealed. "Oh, Min Ho! I almost forgot about him." she wiggled her eyebrows at you.

"You're so annoying." you shook your head in despair.

"I know." she snickered. "Ah, by the way. Remember how Q and I found a baby bracelet?"

"Ah, that."

"I wonder how I can find my half-sibling. Do you think they would want to meet me? Do they know our mom has passed?"

You sighed loudly. "Kitty, I love talking to you but we went over the same questions yesterday."

"Sorry." she said in a small voice. "I'm just really excited."

"I know." you gave her a smile.

"We have a watch party tomorrow evening at your dorm, by the way, if you didn't know."

"I didn't know." you frowned.

"It's normal, I just planned it with Q. You can join us. Min Ho's going to participate."

You faked a smile and walked straight to the library. She really was determined when she had a plan in mind...

Q had begged you to join the Outdoors club. While you weren't one for physical exercise, you did love enjoying nature. So you agreed to go to the first hike at least. When you considered having packed everything you needed, meaning sunscreen and a bottle of water, you went to the living area and just had to listen to Min Ho whine like a child.

"I really don't remember giving permission to Y/N to use my custom blend products. She doesn't even need to use them, she has her own stuff!"

Dae zipped up his bag and ran out the door in a second. "Sorry, man. Got to go." he said quickly before closing the door.

"Thanks, great talk!" he yelled back even though Dae couldn't hear him anymore.

He seemed to not have noticed you were in the living room as he slumped on a stool and took out his phone. He looked at it for a bit and then sighed.

"You're always busy, you're never around." he said out loud before dialing to call someone.

"My darling boy!" a female voice spoke.

"Hi, Mom! You're doing good?" he waved at the phone.

"Yeah, just about to head to set." she informed.

"I miss you."

Your heart warmed up from the cute interaction. You were happy to know he had a great relationship with his mother, which you wished you still had.

"But since you're more important, should I tell them to wait?"

He paused for an instant. "No, it's okay. Let's just talk next time."

"Okay, kisses."

He hummed as the call ended. His head down, he folded his phone and breathed out. He kept the same position and you noticed that his jaw clenched.

"Your mom seems sweet."

He turned to look at you and was suddenly alert of his surroundings. "You heard?"

"Not on purpose, I was getting ready for the hike."

"I see. Yeah, my mom's great."

"That's good." you awkwardly went to the front door and put on your shoes while he stood still at the counter, not having moved much. "See you later, Min Ho."

"See you."

When you joined the group outside, you were surprised to see Kitty already stretching out. You walked up to her and asked what she was doing there.

"Q suggested I joined the club so I can have some time with Dae without Yuri around." she explained. "As friends, you know?"

"That's a good idea, yeah." you nodded in agreement.

Q was quick to arrive and encouraged everyone present to do some stretching beforehand. Dae then arrived as well and was surprised to see Kitty there. He joined her the moment he laid eyes on her and she explained to him that she wanted to stay friends. But it was rapidly ruined when Yuri spawned out of nowhere like a character in a video game. She interrupted their conversation and led Dae away from Kitty.

"Do I really have to hear from Min Ho that you're hanging out with Kitty?" you overheard her say.

Just when you thought the man had some sort of feelings behind his pretty face, he had to pull a move like this. Kitty changed spots and, after sending a glare to Yuri's direction, you moved as well and positioned yourself next to Q.

"Alright, who's ready to go on a hike?"

And Min Ho spawned too, and just right next to you. You were about to question him on his presence but Dae was as perplexed as you were and asked him first.

"What? I can't hang out with my best friends?"

You rolled your eyes at his behaviour. If there wasn't anyone else around, you'd definitely be beating the shit out of him. And what annoyed you even more was Madison coming up to him with a flirtatious look on her face. Though he surprised you by not looking so thrilled with her advances. You were thankful that Q started the hike soon later and you stuck with Kitty to avoid having to witness Madison almost drooling over Min Ho. It also allowed Kitty herself to forget about Yuri's presence.

"You guys are making great time. Let's keep with the pace, people!" Q encouraged proudly as you were almost to the top.

Walking behind Yuri, you almost walked into her when she stopped so suddenly and let out a yell. She jumped around trying to get worms off her and Kitty took the opportunity to go see Dae.

"We're in nature, embrace it." Q tried to get some sense into her but she kept on yelling.

"They're just worms, Yuri." you said but in vain, she wasn't hearing you.

"Is it on me? I thought the worm followed me, where is it?" she talked to herself.

"I'm surprised you aren't the one screaming about bugs." Min Ho joked as he joined your side.

You moaned in annoyance. "I'm not talking to you."

"Why not?"

"I think you can answer that yourself." you spat out.

Not looking in front of you properly, you didn't see that Kitty had tripped. Luckily, Dae caught her but as for you, you halted your moves too fast and fell backwards. And again, Min Ho was the one who caught you in time.

"So clumsy." he tsked at you.

You quickly broke away from him and cleared your throat. Meanwhile, Yuri interrupted the duo in front of you and Q went on about safety before walking again. You definitely regretted coming here.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" you acted clueless.

Min Ho chuckled. "So we're being petty now?"

"I'm always petty with you." you argued.

"You weren't this morning."

You groaned, growing impatient with him. "Can't you leave me alone for a day?"

He didn't know what to respond and you took it as he understood the message. With that being said, you fastened your pace and arrived next to Dae.

"Hey." he smiled at you.

"Not in the mood, just walk."

The poor guy gulped but listened to you and didn't speak to you again. But your hike was halted once again when Kitty and Yuri started to run to the end.

"Just, make sure that you stick together!" Q yelled at them.

"I'm pretty sure they can't hear you." you smiled at him sadly.

"I know." he shrugged.

Min Ho then went to Dae causing you to walk away from them. You hated this, all of it.

"Why did you come?" Dae complained to his friend.

"Because I'm looking out for you, that's why I called Yuri."

"Let me deal with it on my own."

Dae came next to you again, visibly avoiding the man as much as you were.

"So much drama." you heard Madison from behind.

"No one asked." you said loudly for her to hear.

With Kitty running away from the hike, you went on with the watch party without her. After Q set up everything, he sat next to Florian while you sat on the floor to let them have their moment. Focused on the screen, you were disappointed to get interrupted by Min Ho walking out of his room.

"Hey! My mom is in this. She plays the king's second daughter."

"Nice, now shut it." you said rudely but he dismissed your request as Florian asked him about her.

"Does she still act?"

"Oh, yeah. She's absolutely smashing it right now in LA. She's up for a role as a mermaid in the mafia."

"Great, can you go now?" you asked, insistent since you didn't want him to be ruining Q's moment just like he had done with Kitty.

He ignored you again and walked to the couch, asking Florian to scooch over to leave him space to sit.

"Oh, I could give you, guys, the behind-the-scenes dirt on this." he continued and you mentally cursed at him.

"Okay, I love dirt." Florian replied.

He finally shut it for a while and you thanked whoever for it. As per usual, it didn't last long.

"It took that guy twenty takes to nail that."

You threw your head back in disbelief. Was he that clueless to not get a hint? The thousands of glares he got from you and Q weren't enough?"

"Oh, hey, look! It's my mom."

"Oh, wow." Florian commented. "She's gorgeous."

"I know! Thank God I got her bone structure."

"Taking any opportunity to make it about yourself, uh?" you turned to look at him.

The infamous smirk was already there. "Always."

"Wait..." one of the other guys said. "Didn't your mom and dad have that messy divorce?"

"The whole mess was exaggerated to sell magazines." he said in defense right away. "But yeah, they did get divorced."

That part was said which a much calmer tone, it sounded almost sad to you. Determining that it was enough of him ruining Q's evening, you let out a long breath.

"Okay, we get the point." you announced as you got up. "Your mom's an actress, it's great and all but I need to talk with you."

You took him by the arm and forced him up. He tried to stay at his seat but you were stronger than he expected. So he let you forcefully get him off the couch and you dragged him back to his room, not forgetting to close the door.

"Is it the moment that we're supposed to kiss after you reveal you have a crush on me?"

You scoffed. "So you really do think about yourself all the time. I was saving your ass from talking any more about your parents and that's how you thank me?"

He smiled with a knowing look. "So you do care about me."

"I care more about Q. Tonight was for him to make a move on Florian but you couldn't shut it."

"Well, how was I supposed to know that?"

You deadpanned at him. "Really? Ah, you're killing me."

"Fine, maybe I did get the message but I'm looking out for my friend."

"Yeah, just like you're looking out for Dae when it's none of your business."

"Y/N, this isn't your business either."

You huffed. "You're damn right it isn't but for some reason, I get dumped with all of it and it's a hassle to carry so many drama when it doesn't even involve me."

"Just go away then!" he snapped at you. "If it's that hard to deal with."

Your jaw clenched as you stayed still, glaring at one another. You scoffed once more and left his room without adding anything else. It took you aback when you heard him follow you. The other guys had already left so only Q remained in the living room. That made arguing less embarrassing.

"Y/N." You stopped and waited for him to continue. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

You went to hide in your room and you heard him sighed in defeat. You didn't know what was up with him today but it only confirmed to you that you wanted nothing to do with him.

taglist: @nanaspalette | @schniti-is-in-the-house | @bakugou-katsukis-wife |@soobin-chois | @honeydewpie

#xo kitty #xo kitty fanfic #xo kitty x reader #xo kitty minho #xo kitty min ho #xo kitty minho x reader #xo kitty min ho x reader #min ho x reader #sang heon lee #sang heon lee x reader

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radiant-reid · 2 years

Note

Hot wife request:

A photo of Reid’s hot wife just walking down the street or grocery shopping or doing whatever goes viral online. He obviously doesn’t know cuz he doesn’t use socials. The team discusses this beautiful lady only to find out she’s Reid’s wife when she stops by with the glasses he left at home.

gosh i love how much y'all have gotten into this because me too

also, this is set with him ↓ but modern

It's not unusual for Penelope to send Morgan TikToks while the BAU is off working a case somewhere around the country. Usually, they're cute ones of puppies, other animals, or babies. Today, though, it's a video of her current favorite Tiktoker who she caught onto just as she started blowing up.

The it's.y/nnnn account now has 500 thousand followers, and Penelope might be one of her biggest fans. She found the account on one of the first videos Y/n posted, a highlight reel of her best pictures in October. From there, it transformed into her doing trends and talking about her fabulous life while maintaining a healthy balance of being real, an incredibly rare feat.

Morgan watches it immediately, understanding Penelope's next message- OH MY GOD!!!- when he recognizes the street and suburb 18th Street NW, Adams Morgan. It's a video review of a Mexican restaurant, one he and Penelope had been at a week prior.

JJ and Elle, sitting with him at the boardroom table, notice his amusement. "What is it?" JJ asks.

"Penelope's favorite TikToker lives in DC." He reports, handing over his phone so they can see the video and read Penelope's following texts voicing her excitement. "Someone find Reid so I can tell her how many people live in DC and that it's not that surprising."

"Wait, no, this is good," Elle tells him, taking the phone from JJ's hand and scrolling through some of the other videos from the creator. She's heard Penelope hyping this girl up, but she wasn't curious until now. "Do you know if she's... you know?"

Morgan laughs. "What, you're going to go and stake out the restaurant and then hit on her?" He asks.

"She's hot." Elle shrugs. "You would if you had a chance."

That offends him, and he scoffs. "I absolutely would have a chance."

"Bullshit." She calls. "She's too hot for you."

Playfully wounded, he places a hand over his chest. "I'm wounded. JJ, back me up."

JJ looks like she doesn't want to pick sides, but since he's making her, she's honest with her answer. "I mean, she is really pretty."

Determined to validate himself, he asks the next person that walks in. Unfortunately, that's Hotch who's forced to watch three videos. "Do you think she'd get with me?" Morgan questions his boss.

Hotch gives him a hardened stare. "I think you should do your work." He states firmly, in his scary tone, and takes a seat before adding his answer in a whisper. "And no, I don't."

He gives up after that, not wanting to damage his ego further, and texts Penelope that he, too, is very excited by the revelation.

Every morning, Penelope gives the three of them an update on any developments she's found out, and every morning Morgan and Elle compete about who would be able to land her. Hotch quickly bans her from misusing FBI technology to uncover any personal information about a stranger and forbids her from printing memos for everyone.

She almost faints when the Y/n gets out of the elevator one morning, having to pinch herself, take off her glasses, and put them back on to make sure she isn't dreaming or hallucinating.

When she determines she's not, she rushes over, not going to miss her chance. "Oh my gosh, you're you!" She squeals, clearly catching Y/n off guard from the way she jumps.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Y/n asks awkwardly, hating when situations like this occur.

"Oh. Oh, no, but I'm a massive fan." Penelope gushes. "Your page is seriously my life goals. I'm Penelope."

She smiles gratefully. "Thank you so much." It feels weird for her to be recognized in public, especially when she's come to her husband's workplace.

It's then that Penelope notices the massive engagement ring on her finger next to the wedding band. "Oh my gosh, you're married?!" She asks excitedly, completely forgetting to ask a question about why an influencer is standing in the BAU. Y/n nods happily looking down at the ring. "To who?"

With near-perfect timing, Spencer walks through the glass doors and notices his wife and his colleague talking, frowning at them.

"Well, actually, to him." Y/n answers, nodding at her husband who's walking over to them.

"Hey, sweetheart." He greets her nonchalantly, coming to stand by her side and wrapping his arm around her waist. He then notices Penelope's shocked face, something he's never seen so intensely. "What's going on?"

She's practically speechless, but she doesn't need to speak when Elle, JJ, and Morgan turn up. "What's going on?" Morgan repeats the same question as Spencer, stunned like Elle is.

"Hey, I'm Y/n Reid." She introduces herself, shaking their hands.

"Wait, you have a sister?" Morgan asks. They don't look related but there's no chance in his mind that they're not dating.

Spencer completely misses the intention of the question. "No. Well, not that I know of, but I guess there's a chance I could have a half-sibling, but you'd tell me, right, Garcia?"

His wife rests her hand on his chest, signaling for him to stop while showing off her ring. "We're married."

"No shit," Elle remarks, raising her eyebrows.

Spencer's not only married, but he's married to a popular, stunning woman.

"Mhm." Spencer doesn't pick up on the looks being exchanged between the four of them as they try to work out how their relationship happened. She's model-level gorgeous, and Spencer, although they love him and know he's attractive, does not seem like he'd be her type. "I forgot my glasses." He informs them as Y/n takes them out of her handbag and gives the case to him.

"You've got to stay for lunch." JJ insists. "We have so such to ask you."

Morgan nods in agreement. "Like, if you weren't married to Pretty Boy, would you date me?"

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fandom #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb

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niiine · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍

Character(s). Wanderer (Scaramouche)

Synopsis. Wanderer's voice lines (omg talk about redundancy) as your slow burn love story.

Fluff, comfort, CLICHE! CLICHE! CLICHE!

Mentions of Scara being taller than the reader. F! reader (because this is safer. I keep messing up gn reader fics because I always put her or any fem pronouns.)

Surely you don't expect me to proofread, right?

Not all of his voice lines are included, only the few where I can write something I enjoy BUT STILL WHY IS THIS SO LONG? Might do Xiao next but idk.

Babygirl Xiao ver.

NAMES

The first time you met was when lesser Lord Kusanali introduced you to the wanderer as his temporary companion. Something the latter deemed unnecessary as he will be staying under the Dendro Archon's supervision for a while.

It would be nice to have someone to talk to aside from me. The archon mused before leaving the two of you, saying something about discussing a few things with the traveller.

Your eyes travelled towards the lad in front of you, slender figure towering over yours. And his eyes— you couldn't point a finger at the emotions blaring through it, He's scary.

You inquire about his name, trying to start a proper conversation that may make him feel comfortable. But then all he did is stare at you for a good three seconds before clicking his tongue and walks away.

Talk about manners.

A bit irked by his actions, you followed through his steps before yanking his sleeves, "I asked what's your name"

The irritation in your voice and your bold actions amused the lad, if Kusanali thinks it's a good thing to have another companion, then surely she'll not complain if he enjoys himself a little, right?

"I've gone by many names throughout my life—" you noticed how he paused, and a flash of misery waved in his indigo orbs "But you can call me anything you want. Just don't disappoint me by your choices"

It took you days to decide, until you learned from the traveler that he was referred to as SCARAMOUCHE before things happen.

When you told the lad that it is what you plan on addressing him as, he refused right away. But your words struck something in him and somehow, he's glad it is what you've decided to.

"You've had so many unwanted things that relates to this name, and I want to turn it around."

SMALL TALKS

He always looks at you with bored eyes and crossed arms before turning his back at your every attempt to spark little chat.

And when I say every time, it means every time. Your first few days accompanying the lad were just awkward with him denying you any form of conversation.

But don't get me wrong, as much frustration it gave you, the wanderer is enjoying it. How your nose scrunch up, vivid annoyance, etc. He's loving how much entertainment you're giving him.

You've caught up to this, you really do. But you just want to feel the satisfaction of making him talk. Besides, how are you gonna comply to your archon's wishes if you can't talk to him?

That is until you stumbled unto the man in question sleeping. His face drawn in between fear and resentment as his chest heaved heavily, a drop of tears adorns his visage— A nightmare.

You shake the man awake, saving him from further heartbreak the dreamland is serving him.

And when he opened his eyes to look at you—archon's, when he looked at you. The steel emotions are gone, it doesn't looks like he's intimidating or anything alike.

To you, Scaramouche looks like a love deprived child.

His eyes flashed pain and exhaustion boring holes onto yours before he regained composure, the usual wanderer now back.

Yet you noticed how his hands still tremble, so you took it in yours, him wincing in the process. "What are your doing?"

"I don't know, but I'm here" you really don't, yet as he laid his head on your shoulders, shushing you as he do so, you know you're doing something good.

"Don't speak. It's aggravating when you try not to be awkward with silence"

ATTACHMENTS

If he weren't so pretty, you might have bruised his face by now.

Three months have passed after your fated interaction with the wanderer. And in such time, your patience isn't getting any longer.

"What? Gonna cry to Mama Kusanali now and ask to take you away from the meanie?" Scaramouche taunted you, just like yesterday, and the day before, and so on. "Such a crybaby, this is why you've got no lover still"

"Hah?! As if you have one! You're so tactless people will scurry away even before you speak" you spat back, missing the way he flinched at the thought.

"Heh? You think I've got a sharp tongue? I just tell things the way I see it. Isn't your problem that you're too sensitive?"

You end up arguing more, of course. But much to your amusement, and unusual worry, the lad toned down his insults for the following days.

You tried to confront him and his poor attempt at being friendly, but it's Scaramouche we're talking about. There's no way in hell he'll let you have what you want.

"Fine, fine. If you don't want to tell me, then don't" you notice how his face contorts into that of his when he's about to insult you, but then he holds it back.

You're not sure where you'll be shocked at. The way he controls his mouth, or his next choice of words—

"Since—since Buer brought you hear, you will not leave me right away even if I'm a bit tactless—right? "

I'M HERE

You watch his eyes narrow at the painful memory as he recalls what his creator did to him. Scara barely talks, and you appreciate the small moments he decides to tell stories about him self.

But when hurt become evident in his indigo orbs, you feel guilty for asking the wanderer.

He probably guessed your thoughts, flicking your forehead and muttering "I don't need pity, dumbass" before hiding his emotions once again.

"I don't pity you, idiot—" you started, gaining his attention. "You're kind. The world did things that made you mean though" he rolled his eyes at your words, ready to say something but you beat him to it

"But I admire you. You're strong. You've been wronged so many times and yet you're still willing to atone"

Your companion looks at you with confusion adorning his pretty face, words long died down in his throat so you decided to speak more.

"They may leave you, but I won't. If there will be a time that the strong you needs someone to wipe your tears, "

You took his gentle digits into yours, on usual occasion, he may have slap it away, but something tells him not to.

"I'm here. I will be here. " and with that, you have his eternal, undying loyalty.

SPECIAL TREATMENT

"Buer told you to bring an umbrella, didn't she?" you pursed your lips at his words. Your archon did remind you about bringing the said item, but then the sun was all high and mighty earlier today that you decided to neglect her words.

"Yes, but it doesn't look like it's gonna rain today!" you huffed, surely he wouldn't be that drenched if you two share his hat, right?

"But it did. So now, suffer"

Annoyed at the lad, and by the fact that he's right, you proceeds to stomp your feet away from the shed the two of you are currently residing, determined to get back to the city before the downpour comes heavy.

The wanderer watch as you angrily walked away from his direction. His idea of staying a little longer outside with you now in the dumps because your stubborn ass can't get a hint.

Sighing, he unleashes his elemental skill and hover towards you.

You met his indigo eyes, annoyance still vivid in yours. "You act like a five year old sometimes"

His words, as usual, irked you. but then the irritation quickly dissipates when he put his hat on your head and gestures you to climb up his back as he kneeled.

"We don't have the whole day dumbass"

You comfortably settled on his back while he secure your knees.

The journey back to the city was silent until you speak, and archons, the wanderer is grateful that his face is hidden from your sight.

"You smell nice"

CONFESSIONS

"Just do it"

You hesitantly placed your palms on his before he maneuvered your body and carried you princess style.

"Scara not too high!" you warned as he gives you a soft chuckle and called you a scaredy cat.

"Look" you heard him say, gesturing towards the scenery the night of Sumeru City can offer. To say that it was breathtaking was an understatement— the image before you is enchanting.

The flickering lights of the busy streets adorned the darkened city, and the stars above aren't taking any competition into account. The air up high is cold, considering the altitude, but something keeps you warm.

Scaramouche.

"It's beautiful"

The wanderer's gaze flicks towards you and saw how in awe you are at the view. He wonders, will you ever look at him the same way? he'll never know.

"Of course it is." he huffed, proud that he get to show you such a wonderful view. He almost dropped you, though, when you voiced out another thought of you.

"Do you consider me as pretty as this?"

one... two... three seconds and you brushed it off with a laugh. His silence is enough proof that once again, you sound so stupid.

"Kidding. idiot."

You thought that the discussion is over, but then when you were about to wave him good bye for the day, you felt a small tug at your sleeves.

You turned around to see a flustered wanderer, his eyes avoiding yours. "There's only one similarity between you and this city,"

He began, not entirely sure of whether to continue his little speech or not.

"I'm in peace."

Your heart flutters at his words. Maybe he feels the same way about you, maybe he doesn't. But he's an immortal, and you have a lifetime.

#scaramouche x oc #scara x reader #scaramouche imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader angst #genshin scara #kunikuzushi #scaramouche genshin impact #wanderer #wanderer x y/n #genshin wanderer #wanderer x reader #yae publishing house #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact screenshots

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finsterwalds · 2 months

Text

Got my hands on the script of Anatomy of a Fall, and I couldn't help but compare it with some scenes from the movie because that's how deep I am rn :'D Anyway, here are some of my finds and things I personally enjoyed. I'm sure there are more things to dig out but these are what I wanted to share with the world. The order of my finds will be chronological, for the most part, but keep in mind that sometimes, some scenes were edited to show up later, or earlier than originally intended. Spoilers for the whole movie obviously so you've been warned!

Takes place when Vincent first visits Sandra to discuss Samuel's death. In the movie, Sandra stops Vincent and cuts him harshly, saying "STOP, I did not kill him". Vincent then says a line that I think is pretty iconic in the movie, a sarcastic : "That's not the point. Really". His line is much harsher than on the script, where he's a bit softer. "You don't need to tell me that" implies that he has some deep, loyal faith in Sandra, while "That's not the point" cuts any further discussion. He really doesn't wanna know if she actually did it. Comes from a wish to remain blind still, but with less innocence and a lot of denial. Oh, Vincent.

In the movie, his last line is way better imo, he says "No one's gonna believe that. I don't believe that." I like the emphasis on his opinion rather than the fleeting and impersonal "it's really hard to believe". Truly hits way harder and puts Vincent back in the position of a lawyer.

The rest will be under the cut because I think it's gonna be a wall of text I apologize guys...... This movie does things to my brain.

There's a scene that was cut where Vincent phones Nour while still at Sandra's, which I would have enjoyed a lot but I'll admit it's a bit filler-y. Doesn't add a lot and kinda cuts the serious tone of Sandra's confession, imo, as they discuss the judge's antics in a pretty comical manner. I just love Nour so I'm based......

Another, REALLY long scene that was cut where a medium comes into Sandra's house to feel Samuel's ghost and foreshadows Daniel poisoning Snoop with aspirin. I had a good laugh at that one, honestly. It feels pretty out of place with the tone of the movie, and the personality of the characters even... I can't picture Sandra calling a medium. I'm glad they removed it because the foreshadowing was unnecessary too. It's still interesting that they had planned it however.

This takes place after Vincent finds out about the tape. Interestingly, his whole line was cut after "before he died". In the movie, he never comments on Sandra's affairs/sexuality. He never really asks much about her life at all. He truly is blinded by his wish to shield himself from her inner demons, in order to maintain his undying loyalty towards her. To see what he wants of her...

Another scene that was completely cut (a flashback, I believe?) where Sandra makes Daniel pose for a german photographer to make some money, which Monica dislikes, and then they argue. I think it really frames her as too unsympathetic, so I'm also glad it was cut.

Okay, so now, here comes The Big Change. The scene where Vincent and Sandra drink together after the first trial was heavily altered, because its tone in the movie is pretty tense when compared with the lightheartedness of the script. In the script, they laugh and reminisce together about the past and even kiss at the end of the scene. In the movie, none of was I screenshot happens : instead of playing along with the 'firing Vincent' suggestion, the scene ends with Sandra scolding Vincent for judging her in his head. Vincent backs off and the scene ends. Another instance of him not pressing emotional depth to shield himself.

There are other scenes I liked (many that touch upon Sandra's books) but I'll stop there. Hope you'll enjoy that... I might draw some of these so stay tuned... This movie has absorbed my soul but it feels good to be alive, thank you Justine Triet.

#anatomy of a fall #anatomie d'une chute #justine triet #vincent renzi #sandra voyter #not art #im posting it on my artblog because i wanna find this again and store everything about my lawyer era in one place #i didn't translate anything because that would take some time but hmu if you need a translation or if something's unclear #i didn't proofread this and my native language isn't english so picture a crazy frenchie going about their theories to you okay?#fits the movie imo

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floareadeaur · 2 months

Note

Hello!I really love your analyses (I am trying to read them all)and having personally returned to the fandom after 4 years it feels like I discovered a hidden gem.

Since my favourite characters are all vampires and since Ferid is also one I would like to ask you what do you think the ending of the vampire race will be like?I mean with the way the story is going it seems that in the end all the vampires are sadly going to die either from the resurrection or with Saito finding a way for them to die as he promised.I would like it if they somehow get turned back into humans and somehow live a peaceful life but it seems highly unlikely 😔.I love Kagami for creating such a complex and deep story but since Horn and Chess appeared there is a high chance that Lacus and Rene will also and seeing my boy Lacus finally appear after 6 years ( his last appearance in the manga was in 2018 if I am not mistaken) to just die hurts 😭.

(I know this is a pretty complex ask and you are not obligated to answer it if it's too much also I don't know if you have answered this already so if you did I am sorry)

Hello!

Please, do not worry about the complexity of the question.

It is true, this ask is one that requires more thought, but it is a pertinent one that deserves attention.

"Hidden gem", this is perhaps the nicest compliment I received here. Thank you so much!

I am really glad that my analysis is helpful and enlightening to this fascinating story. I will try to attach all my analysis in the masterlist to make it easier to read. (I kind of lost track of them and the analysis masterlist does not have them all. Sorry for that. )

Now about your question.

The answer is a complex one, and I really do not think I can offer anything with certainty.

Thus, I will rather discuss the existing possibilities and any assumptions I have.

In the end, we will see what happens in the manga further. What is certain is that I am sure that the ending will be extraordinary and full of meaning, commensurate with this special story, and I support the author whatever he chooses next.

Now I will present my ideas.

In the OnS world, there is a lot of emphasis on the concept of "soul". How the whole universe is created as a "prison" for this soul.

Infinite reincarnation, without the possibility of an end or a meaningful destination for the soul. This is how human life works here, in a continuous vicious circle.

To me, vampirism is simply another form of reincarnation. The same impossibility of freeing the soul, the same immortal "life", the same lack of meaning for the soul, only now in one body and at the cost of altering the memories and personality of the human souls trapped in this form of curse.

Moreover, vampire souls, as I said, do not have the possibility to die. They can only pass into another "form", as demons. So it is about human persons cursed with vampirism, which in the end can only become demons. Still a "circle" type trajectory, without escape.

That is why, I think, that just as humanity needs a new "restart", a release from infinite reincarnations (which maybe the resurrection will do), the souls of vampires need a form of release, of rest.

How will this happen?

Honestly, I do not know. Vampire souls are human, that much is clear. No matter what form they exist in: mortal human body, immortal vampiric body, demonic entity, it is all about human souls in different forms.

And right now there is no Heaven for these human souls, under any form, you know?

From here we can draw the conclusion, that maybe if Sika's suffering will find a solution, and if Guren will succeed in the resurrection, the laws of the OnS world will change and the possibility of a Heaven for all these souls will appear?

But the answer is, frankly, a complicated one. Because it is not just one way, I think.

For example, the vampires transformed by Sika Madu are basically the reincarnations of his angels. And Sika Madu wants to go back to Heaven with them, from whence they fell. So maybe these vampires will return to this Heaven in the end? As angels again, or as human souls?

But there are many other vampires who are not reincarnations of those angels, like Ferid, Crowley, Basteya, Lacus, René, Chess, Horn and the rest of the vampire race. These were just people. So what will be their ending?

And there is also something else. We are talking about the resurrection, which involved the death of every vampire, either for the resurrection of humanity or Mikaela.

But from what we have seen recently, these vampires are not much in the form of "vampires" anymore. Hundreds of them have been ingested by Ferid and their souls are in a state of metamorphosis to the demon form in Ferid's inner dimension.

Here comes a guess of mine.

Mahiru Hiiragi, before becoming a demon, said something, "Next time I am reborn I want to be an ordinary girl."

I think these words of hers should be taken more seriously, considering that since the age of 11 she has had visions and nightmares including about the Apocalypse. Perhaps she knew that there was a possibility that human souls who had reached the demon state would be reborn as humans someday. Perhaps this is a consequence of the resurrection Guren is currently working on.

Mostly, I do not think Ferid is working against Guren's plan by his current actions. Given that Guren's plan directly fights against Sika Madu's purpose, and that Ferid is involved in this plan willingly, I strongly believe that the "resurrection of mankind" means the restoration of the laws of this universe as well. That is, including what Ferid wants since he was 16, "breaking that circle", of meaningless reincarnation, changing the broken laws of the world.

Especially, Ferid did not say that he does not want anyone to ever be born again, but that he wants no one to ever be reborn in that " putrid " world. In that world of broken laws, which holds souls meaninglessly captive in infinite reincarnations.

Birth and rebirth are two different things. Or resurrection versus rebirth.

Rebirth drags the soul into a new life even if that soul has already lived a life. Rebirth leaves no room for rest.

Resurrection restores a life ruined by something, repairs it and perhaps gives it another meaning.

And if new laws are established for the universe, if the problem of infinite reincarnation in this hellish world is solved and Heaven is opened for human souls, maybe one good life will be given to resurrected human souls?

A life with meaning, at the end of which the soul has a Heaven where it can go.

And perhaps, the souls of vampires ingested by Ferid and turned into demons, as Mahiru Hiiragi implied, can "reincarnate" again as humans, now in a world that offers only one good and meaningful life for each soul, followed of the possibility of entering Heaven.

Thus, in this version, Ferid can be considered to represent the "gateway" through which vampire souls can get a chance to later regain their humanity.

And in the end, maybe the only vampire to die will be Ferid.

I think all vampires except him have had someone who loved them. Look at Horn and Chess, who are good friends in my view, or Lacus and René. Or Crowley with his comrades, with the friends he must have had in his previous life as Ferid's older brother.

All of them had love in their lives, people who loved them. And maybe that is why they need a new good life with these beloved people.

And Ferid, truly unloved by anyone, is the "sacrificial lamb", no matter how surprising it seems.

Basically, his greatest frustration is the rotten way his world works, its meaningless laws, the creation out of darkness by a corrupt God. And perhaps his happy ending is to die, leaving behind through his actions a world of meaning, a world born of love, something he always longed for but could not have.

There is a lot to say in this hypothesis, but what I am pointing out is that I am sure that Ferid will have a direct confrontation with Sika Madu, and more than anything, a discussion with this god of his, in which he will again demand the reason why everything is like that.

If you remember chapter 76 where Ferid asked Sika why the world is like this.

I think Sika might be willing to give Ferid an answer in the end.

In a way, you know, it may sound strange, but I feel a great similarity between Ferid and Sika Madu. Such a similarity that it seems for me that Ferid is a reflection of the curse placed on Sika Madu.

I would go into a lot of detail, but I risk making this essay too long.

The idea is that Ferid longs for a world with meaning, that good God, harmony and the possibility of a Heaven, the breaking of the cursed circle on earth. Just as Sika longed to reach Heaven again, where his Father (the other God) was, and just as he was cursed to live endlessly on that earth exactly like a Hell.

Even chapter 134, the fact that Ferid's memories where we find out how he feels about reincarnation follows the panel when Shinoa tells Sika that she will see all his memories. Beyond the sudden shift in perspective specific to the series. Perhaps this is also a clue related to what I say about the similarity between Ferid and Sika, about the sufferings of both.

If anyone is interested, I can elaborate more on this theory about Ferid and Sika.

Now, in conclusion, I am sure that no matter how everything ends, the vampire species will no longer exist. They are a cursed creation born of the suffering, frustrations and curse of Sika Madu. This is how the first vampire was "born", from his negative emotions generated by the received curse. So automatically this curse has to be resolved somehow.

And with the vampire species gone, surely their souls will find peace one way or another. I think a balance will be reached in the end.

I also have an idea for how Ferid could achieve this balance. I can elaborate on this in another post if anyone is interested.

After all, it remains to be seen how the author ends this fascinatingly profound story. I have full faith in Kagami and I am sure that the end of the story will teach us valuable things.

That is all for now. I feel like I wrote chaotically again. Please come back with questions about anything you feel. This topic is one that needs to be discussed a lot.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to look into it a bit. I had never answered this question before.

Thank you very much for the trust in my interpretation! I hope this answer was at least a little helpful!

My inbox is always open for such discussions. And remember that kind feedback is welcome!

I wish you and whoever finds this post a good day!

#ferid bathory #urd geales #rigr stafford #crowley eusford #krul tepes #lest karr #ky luc #lacus welt #rene simm #horn skuld #chess belle #sika madu #shikama doji #owari no seraph #seraph of the end #ons #sote #ferid bathory analysis #owari no seraph analysis

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aromanticbuck · 4 months

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Crochet Commissions!

For those who don't know me, I'm Alex (she/they), and I started the year off with Covid. Because I had to take two weeks off work, I'm really hurting for money right now, so I'm opening up a limited number of slots for crochet commissions to try to fill in that financial gap.

ALL of the materials I use are machine washer/dryer safe

Pictures of my recent work and prices are below. Including: stuffed animals, dice bags, holiday stockings, blankets. As well as: shipping info, custom request info.

For further questions or to request a commission: message me here or email me at [email protected]

When I did my poll, most people voted for stuffed animals, and I recently finished a few that I can show my skills with. The blue penguin is my latest finished piece, with the purple penguin the first thing I ever crocheted side-by-side for comparison of how much I've learned in the last ~7 months. The mouse is technically unfinished because the eyes aren't embroidered yet, but I made it in about a day and a half, for timeline purposes.

I also just finished the above dice bag octopus about an hour ago for my roommate, which took about three hours of non-stop work (I turned on a movie and got through the stitches pretty quick). I can make them in any color you want, with either the plastic safety eyes or embroidered eyes. Most of these can be entirely customizable, just let me know what you're thinking and I'll see what I can do!

Dice bags: $10 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Stuffed animals: $15 + $5 domestic (US) shipping optional crinkle filling (washer/dryer safe): + $2 (stuffed animals only)

10 slots total (4 REMAINING)

I don't have any pictures of any of the hats or scarves I've made because it's been a few years, but I made some stockings for the apartment for Christmas last month, and that's one of my most recent projects. The green one was the last one I made, and probably the most accurate to what my capabilities are now.

If you'd like a stocking for Christmas 2024, let me know! I have an unlimited number of slots for them as the holiday is far enough away that the time crunch isn't so rough.

Hats: $20 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Scarves: $30 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Holiday stocking: $24 + $5 domestic (US) shipping

5 total wearable (hats/scarves) slots

The least popular item in my poll was the blankets, which I understand. And I'm only going to open one slot for them at a time because they take so long and so much yarn to make. The wave pattern (both blankets pictured above) is my favorite to do, but I have patterns for most simple designs, or I can likely easily google it and put it together for you. Prices are based on the time and materials these take to make, but because they're so much more expensive than the smaller items above, domestic (US) shipping is free.

Baby blanket (top left): $50 Throw blanket/afghan: $100 Full size (length shown in bottom picture): $200

1 blanket slot (0 REMAINING)

Custom requests:

If there's a pattern you've found on Etsy/Pinterest/etc that you want made, contact me by using the contact information above. We can discuss prices or my ability to accomplish that for you. ***patterns must be CROCHET patterns as I do not knit (yet)*** 5 custom slots total

International shipping:

Let me know when you request a commission where you are located, as shipping prices vary wildly from country to country. I'll go over the actual cost with you before you commit to the commission and make sure the price works for both of us.

Current open slots:

Stuffed animals and dice bags: 1. [FILLED] 2. [FILLED] 3. [FILLED] 4. [FILLED] 5. [FILLED] 6. [FILLED] 7. [OPEN] 8. [OPEN] 9. [OPEN] 10. [OPEN]

Wearables: 1. [OPEN] 2. [OPEN] 3. [OPEN] 4. [OPEN] 5. [OPEN]

Stockings: [NO LIMIT]

Blankets: 1. [FILLED]

Custom requests: 1. [OPEN] 2. [OPEN] 3. [OPEN] 4. [OPEN] 5. [OPEN]

#crochet #commissions #crochet commission #crochet commissions #yarnworks #yarncrafts #yarn craft #yarn work #crochet art #crochet stuffed animals #crochet dice bag #crochet blanket

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writeforfandoms · 10 months

Note

HI YES HELLO COULD I PRETTY PRETTY PLEASE REQUEST FOR SOME MORE GLITTER AND GOLD CRUMBS PLEASE <3

Haha okay, have some crumbs!

Warnings: blood and injury, mention of healing, reader is still pregnant.

You weren't surprised when you woke without John. Sometimes he needed to go, and that was fine. You had run of the place (except for Kyle's room) all the time, after all.

Kyle had taken the room closest to the kitchen. It had taken a bit of doing (and some grumbling from your dragon as he got a few necessary supplies) but he was comfortable here now. Plus he made bread for you. Which just made everything better.

"Morning," you greeted him, smiling.

"Good morning," he returned, setting a plate in front of you. It was simple food, but he cooked, which was much better than the alternative (you could not cook).

The two of you got through breakfast and had just begun discussing plans for the day when you heard wingbeats. John was back. You hopped off your chair (ignoring Kyle's huff of amusement behind you) and headed towards the stairs.

But John surprised you. He came in the castle entrance. And he was carrying a man - big, blonde, and bloodied.

"What happened?" you asked, eyes wide, hand pressed to your belly.

"Found him like this," John grunted. "Some idiots thought they could use my territory as a dumping ground." His teeth shone in the light as he bared them in a grin. "I taught them otherwise."

"Is he...?" You couldn't quite ask the question.

"Still alive," John grunted. "Don't worry, princess. Kyle can handle this." He stepped past you carefully, carrying the stranger further into the castle.

You followed. Because you'd always been bad at keeping your nose out of things.

Kyle and John worked quietly together to bind the stranger's many injuries and make him as comfortable as possible. After the third time he removed you, John gave up and let you watch from the doorframe.

You helped as you could, bringing in water and taking away cloths to be cleaned.

The stranger slept for a few days, restless and feverish. Kyle kept an eye on him, but he wasn't a healer.

So when the stranger finally opened his eyes, clear and lucid, you couldn't help but be relieved.

"Easy," you murmured to him, getting up to get him some water. "Here."

He gulped down the water, bits of it splashing on his skin. He looked around quickly as he did, clearly wary. "Where...?" he started, slow and rough.

"My home. Well. Ours, really." You shrugged. "You're safe here, my husband brought you here to heal up."

"Husband." He repeated the word slowly, brow furrowing. He winced as the motion tugged on some of the scabs on his face.

"Mmhm. You'll see him again soon, I'm sure." You rubbed your hand over your belly, soothing yourself. This poor man wasn't a threat. He didn't even look like he could pick up a kitten right now.

Brown eyes settled on you again and he tipped his head slightly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." You smiled, easy and warm. "Are you hungry? I think Kyle's working on some soup."

Which was how Simon joined your little group. It took a while for him to heal, and when he did, he was left with scars. None of you cared much, especially after having seen his recovery, but he hated seeing himself. So you gave him a few scarves to wrap around the bottom half of his face.

Simon didn't leave. Didn't show any inclination towards leaving. If anything, he hovered, uncertain, near you.

You couldn't figure out why until you "accidentally" overheard him talking to John.

"Can't go back," Simon said softly, like he was agreeing with something John had said. "Don't want to impose here."

John snorted. "Then don't," he said, firm but not unkind. "Work for it."

There was silent for a few long moments and then a soft hum of agreement. "What needs doing?"

"Kyle is in charge of the daily things," John said. "Saw you had a sword. You any good with it?"

"I am."

"Good. You can keep an eye on my princess, then." There was a brief pause before John continued, low and pleasantly threatening. "If anything happens to her or my child, I will take it out of your hide."

"Understood." Simon, to his credit, didn't sound scared. Only accepting.

"Good." John sounded pleased. "I'll bring you anything you need."

You snuck away again before you could get caught.

Well, well, well. Looked like Simon was here to stay. Your own little kingdom was growing stronger.

#follower celebration #2k celebration #glitter and gold #dragon!price

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franki-lew-yo · 3 months

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An 'A-ha!' fandom moment, ft. The Owl House

These comments I screencapped from a user I watch elsewhere really hit like a brick in the face to me. I'm blotting out OP's name, mostly cuz this was just a shower thought they had rather than any meaningful open discussion with people, but it ended up making me realize something (also NO they're not some contrarian AntiSJW type or even hate TOH; they're a very gay+trans writer themselves. Sorry if youknowwhoyouare sees this and recognizes ur posts but you don't allow reblogs or comments and I wanted to present it on my own):

The Owl House was always hampered by being killed halfway through, writing wise and that will always be it's greatest 'sin'. However, OP's comment made me realize how much the show kind of tells you it's characters are flawed rather than actually give them arcs to suggest it, especially in season 1. When I say flawed I don't mean lacking quirks that are relatable but human: Eda is a recluse criminal; King thought he could kill people and acted like it; Luz is a genki girl; Amity starts off as a bully; Hunter...is unfortunately Hunter, ect. Those ARE flaws, character wise, but in the presence of the complete story (as complete as the show will ever be) they really aren't actually flawed, bad people in anyway.

Before I go further, two things: 1, IN ALL FAIRNESS, this is why myself and others particularly LOVE the characters and why TOH was a comfort show for me rather than a 'high-tension narrative'. The characters are a lot of what you want and hope to be like and I think that's really sweet and enjoyable, especially for horror and especially for kids.

2, NO! I DON'T think any particular bad faith cartoon reviewer opinions about coddling certain characters and punishing others IS WHAT DANA and co did at all here! Steven Universe and certain crap-reviewer's takes ON Steven Universe and how it's characters were flawed but overly forgiven by the fandom the show itself are NOT the b-all end-all of this discussion, nor are they the reason The Owl House is the way it is!

The context op was talking about was how in the upcoming hate crime The Last Airbender live-action show the showrunners are going to tone down Sokka's sexism because they think it's 'unlikable'. Even though, we all knew as children that this was an arc for him and it was WRONG, so axing it because we the audience lack nuance to recognize characters we love doing problamtic-sisms is BEYOND annoying.

Op's point is how The Owl House in particular doesn't actually expect much or want much out of it's characters. Or audience. For any infighting early on about how much Amity should 'die' because of reasons, that's really just fandom infighting when you get right down to it. There's nothing on par with the disagreement people have over, say, the Diamonds from Steven Universe and how Steven 'totally forgave them or 'should have murdered them in cold blood' about The Owl House. And like...from a fandom point of view that's good, but otherwise the show is pretty concrete the way you're supposed to see certain characters vs other shows which allow you to make up your own mind.

Avatar, Star vs the Forces of Evil (pre finale), Centaurworld and Amphibia all showcase your protagonists being genuinely, intensely flawed. Sure, maybe some neckbreather crap-pseudocritic complains that they 'made the unlikable' or whatever (i.e. me with Friendship is Magic) but overall the actual point is HOW the characters actually have grown and have ended up with the ending and morality they need. The villains, no not Zukos or 'redeemed' villains who joined the protagonist squad, VILLAIN-villains, will always be at least one serious step behind the protagonists and that's what give the protagonists the cautionary wherewithal to end them like they should and not 'be like them'. It's such a fufilling narrative, there's a reason people like it so much because it's really good when it's delivered well.

Removed from my fandom gaze; the Owl House feels like it's saying it has that ultimate messaging and character arc when it actually doesn't. Your protagonists have the endearing aspirational-part totally covered, but as far as the actual 'edge' and nuance? Well...

Eda is, at most, naughty. She really isn't any kind of morally sidetracked character. She's an outlaw because literally her society is awful to her and she's in the right to be against it. She's cursed but she's not addicted to her potions or hiding it or not really taking care of herself or her loved ones because of it. Her actual biggest flaw is that she's been 'running away' from problems rather than dealing with them, but I'd be lying if that wasn't suggested more than it's actually portrayed; or at least, dealt with fast enough in "Eda's Requiem". A bigger issue I see, even if it's what's also endearing about her, is that she REALLY isn't a flawed caregiver at all. It's portrayed as her most redeeming feature that she's otherwise a good mom and mentor, but Eda having virtually no problems in raising Luz and King just, again, makes her feel ONLY aspirational. All of the angst about 'failing' to parent and making up for it is moved all onto Camilla and sadly all of that angst for her is mostly within an already bloated episode. Eda, while an absolute mood, lacks any real kind of edge. Does she need it or not? I don't know. Discuss, kids.

Luz, like OP says, is treated like this high-energy super-optimist. She's like Star Butterfly in that her fangirlism and impulsivness are supposed to get her in trouble. But, she absolutely just isn't one when you break it down. Besides episode 2, Luz really is never that inconsiderate or lost in her fantasies ever again throughout the show. She never has anything like what Steven goes through where he hops into Larz' body and makes things worse for people by trying to fix things- which is not only good filler but it calls forward to the ultimate ending of Steven's arc for the series - Luz is just sort of adorable. Luz has blindsided by hype moments of weakness, like when she accidentally hurts Owlbert or messes with Amity's secret room, but still always level headed and down-to-earth. Her impulses are always kind of treated like...excusable? Because, again, they usually are. This is a large part about what makes her self-hatred at the end of the show about accidentally helping Belos' feel 'forced'. Even MOREso than what Hunter and Daddy Titan explain about Belos using her, we the audience never see Luz's choice to go back in time and try and get answers from Philip as being anything other than just, you know, logical. Because it is. The show acts like what Luz did was reckless and bad and that she was SOOO overtaken by her fangirlism about Philip and now just how much she has to live with the guilt and regret of helping being duped by him...it just doesn't come off that way at all. She was only so much excited about meeting him and her interest was getting home to her mother. In terms of comparing her to Philip, that's all fine and good, but again it's not 'flawed'. Not really, anyway.

Lilith absolutely has it the worst...but I kinda think people know that. She arguably does have the most morally-gray turning point in the show given what she did to her own sister. But neither the characters nor her nor the show really hold her accountable in any lasting way for cursing Eda. Lilith is the closest we get to that 'Diamond'-dilemma. She does 'make things right way too quickly and it's obvious to even her biggest fans that her character is really rushed in this area. They lampshade what Lilith did and that she was their villain in season 2 and 2B, but lampshading isn't the same thing as progress. As a result, as a Lilith fan you kind of never really forgive her for what she did. None of that's her fault, cause' you know...she doesn't exist, but it makes it frustrating that you the fan watching the show is doing the heavy-lifting in your mind in this area.What you come away from is this feeling of loving the characters for being able to work everything out. They're engaging and nuanced in theory, but you also feel robbed, w or w/o the Disney interference, of them being fully rounded or WHOLE. It kinda feels like 'and suddenly, he wasn't racist, anymore' all the time with every character ever with except Amity's mom, the Titan Trappers and Belos.

The reason everyone dunks on Star vs the Forces of Evil's finale, (besides being salty over ship wars and declaring THAT'S the reason for the drop in quality) is that 'Cleaved' could have not only worked but REALLY worked. It just needed to be better written and processed as an ending. Instead people reviled Star, the protagonist we're supposed to be rooting for, for what feels like impulsive apathy and cruelty towards everyone else by destroying magic, as opposed to it being an actually selfless sacrifice that makes her different than Toffee. Ultimatley, I do prefer The Owl House, unfinished as it is, to any of that. But yeah... I can now never unsee the characters as being what they are: fun but indulgent when they're supposedly complex. Indulgent is never bad u guys, but the problem is when you only have that to go on while insisting you have fully developed characters, there's a lot of the show telling you how to feel and how to come away from it rather than letting you, the audience, make of that yourself. As annoying as fan-wars can be over this stuff and when people are either WAAAY to forgiving of their villain blorbo or form hate-campaigns over Glub Shitto for ruining their life, it is ultimately a good thing that shows give you that chance to really see the characters that way at all.

The Owl House is, as OP calls it, "tumblr feels" not for being gay and magical and fun and wholesome and indulgent like that stuff is GREAT. It feels 'tumblr oriented' in that it all kind of feels too easy even when it's not for your protagonists. It's never actually "challenging". I guess, in as far as 'good' indulgence is concerned, it's as warm and fuzzy and a happy AU fanfic you found but not so much the Pacifist Ending of Undertale where you really do feel bad if you rectify the good ending in anyway. It's fun and it's comfort food, but not entirely lasting as you want it to be???

Amphibia, I think, was also way better than Owl House in this respect. It wasn't perfect cause nothing is but you really got a feeling for HOW flawed Marcy, Sasha, the townsfolk and even Hop Pop throughout their arcs-- which made it so SO rewarding to see them get their happy endings and come together to defeat the core and be the better people they needed to become.

The Owl House is my favorite where I think Amphibia is the better of the two.

#ramble #the owl house #toh critical #good lord did any of this make any sense Idk #franki's features #I guess technically King had the most fufilled arc #considering he thought he was a dictator-realized he wasn't-and then w he found out his true past was horrified by it but coped #discuss

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balioc · 5 months

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Holiday Engineering: The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I wasn't actually planning to make a dedicated post about Christmas. In most ways, it isn't a helpful reference point for a would-be holiday engineer. The things that make Christmas really noteworthy, and most of the things that make it really good, are not things that are within your power to replicate.

But, judging by the notes on my last Holiday Engineering post, it seems clear that my take on Christmas is a thing that is worth discussing and explaining. And, moreover, this is probably a fine pretext for some discussion of what it means for a holiday to be good or bad.

To start with: no holiday is for everyone. No thing is for everyone. No matter what kind of festival you make, a lot of people are going to be annoyed by it, and a lot more people are going to be pretty indifferent.

That basic truth has a number of ramifications. One of them is that -- as with any other kind of design -- when you're thinking about holiday design in abstract conceptual terms, it behooves you to distance yourself from your own preferences and passions at least a little bit. The best thing for you isn't necessarily the best thing in general, and vice versa. It's important to be able to understand when your own idiosyncrasies are pulling you away from good craftsmanship.

I have a strong antipathy towards Halloween, for Reasons. But I have enough perspective to be aware that those Reasons aren't going to be relevant to most other people, no matter how important they seem to me; and, in fact, I believe that Halloween is generally a very well-constructed festival in an "objective" sense.

Whatever else you want to say: there are definitely a lot of people who really don't like Christmas. And it's worth talking about why that is, because some of those reasons are widespread, and they matter. But that, in itself, is not an indication of bad design or low-quality content.

So, without further ado: I believe that the modern Western instantiation of Christmas is probably the greatest holiday of all time.

The core of the holiday's excellence is its theme. The short and simple version of that theme is peace on earth and goodwill towards men, which is -- pretty much the best possible theme that a holiday can have, A+, no notes. It is a high ideal of human living, so obvious that anyone short of a Spartiate can appreciate its value, rendered so straightforward that a tiny child can understand it. But in fact the situation is more complex than that, because Christmas is a complicated holiday, and it's worth digging a bit deeper.

Christmas is, in theory, God's birthday. Which is to say, it is a festival celebrating the entrance of the sacred into a profane world. It is something more than the commemoration of a mystery or a miracle; it is a commemoration of the fact that we get to have mysteries and miracles. And so the essential nature of the holiday is a fully-general "this is the special-time and the sacred-time," but that thing isn't just a bare assertion, it's fully rooted in the myth. The holiday spirit of Christmas is the spirit of everything that humans really think a holiday ought to be, put in a blender. Which tends to work out to something like, well, light and love and joy, letting our worldly strivings and animosities fade away in the face of the celebration, peace on earth and goodwill towards men. Christmas truces can develop spontaneously because Christmas is the festival, the moment at which it becomes powerfully obvious that there is something more powerful and more profound than whatever-you're-fighting-over-this-week.

And, crucially, this is framed in a deeply universal way. At its deepest roots, Christmas is all about Jesus, which just by itself raises a lot of hackles in certain quarters...but who is the Jesus of Christmas? He's not arguing with Pharisees or cursing fig trees or talking about how he came to bring the sword. He's not even tending to the poor, or dying horribly for your sins. He is a baby. The cult figure of the festival has no agenda, no politics or judgments, only wonder and potential and promise. The miracle of the season is often described as "a child is born," which is the most universal kind of celebratory event known to humanity.

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At this stage of its development, Christmas-as-she-is-practiced is really three almost-distinct holidays, each with its own vibe and its own canon of traditions.

Christmas A is the religious festival celebrating the birth of Christ, the one with the angels and the magi and the Latin. Christmas B is the not-necessarily-godly-but-solemn-and-sacred festival of peace and togetherness -- the Christmas of A Christmas Carol and "Good King Wenceslaus," the Christmas of fetishized family dinners. Christmas C is the tinsel-y consumerist holiday, the one that's all about how winter is fun and magical, with "Frosty the Snowman" for the kids and "Santa Baby" for the grownups and big holiday-sales displays for everyone.

(Crucially: Christmas C is still a real holiday, even just taken on its own terms, and has its own sacred narratives etc. Often these are weirdly romantic, but, well, at least in America, courtship is more sacred than pretty much anything else. See: appx. one hojillion Hallmark Channel movies.)

(There are also some more-minor quasi-independent holidays kicking around in there, like the remnant pagan stuff that you see in "The Holly and the Ivy." These are outside the scope of this discussion, but, y'know, they're interesting.)

This weird structure gives Christmas a lot of flexibility, because these three pseudo-holidays are capable of functioning more-or-less independently, but each of them is strongly connected to the others and therefore capable of providing reinforcement. If you don't want Christmas to be about Jesus, then fine, forget about him, there's still a practically-infinite amount of Christmas in which you can participate. But if you do want Christmas to be about Jesus, then your celebration of the nativity borrows sparkle and mojo from both Charles Dickens and the Coca-Cola Corporation. I myself have a strong dislike for the tinsel-y kind of celebration, for "Jingle Bells" and "Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree" etc. -- but not only am I capable of enjoying Christmas A and Christmas B, I am capable of enjoying a world made Christmassy in large part by people who are doing the Christmas C thing, and their celebrations are constantly shading into the things that I like more.

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Relatedly: Christmas is one of the vanishingly-few modern holidays that is capable of feeling like a festival in the old sense, in a more-than-tiny-and-localized context. By which I mean that it consumes and alters the entire world. It's not just a thing you might choose to do, it is a thing that is happening around you, it is a season of the world. It feels real, to me and to many, in a way that most lesser holidays don't, because it pervades.

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...and we haven't even yet touched on the actual-factual nature of Christmas's power, which is just pure snowball effect: because Christmas is what it is, because it is the biggest and most important holiday, it is constantly becoming more that thing as ever more people add to it.

I said in my last Holiday Engineering post that Chanukah had two decent songs. You could possibly talk me into raising that number to five, maybe even ten if you're willing to accept some real deep cuts. Christmas has amazing songs, and it has so fucking many of them, because "writing new Christmas bangers" is a thing that medieval monks did and it's a thing that top-shelf musical geniuses are still doing today. You can fill days' worth of soundtrack with excellent Christmas music even if all you like is sacred stuff in Latin, and the same thing is true if you hate sacred stuff in Latin but you love Mariah Carey and Taylor Swift.

"Classic Christmas movie" is a genre, and not a small one. Practically every noteworthy long-running TV show made in the West has done a Christmas thing at some point, and many of them have done Christmas things every season.

Christmas is not particularly a sweets holiday, but nonetheless there are a million Christmas candies and Christmas cookies etc., because 'tis the season and it's worth randomly doing that thing, in a way that it is not worth randomly doing that thing for any lesser festival.

Even myths and rituals accrue in this way. Eight flying reindeer with cutesy names? Awesome, that poem was cool, let's make that canon. A ninth reindeer with a light-up red nose? The kids will love it. Krampus? Sure, why not, let's (twist the Alpine tradition a bit and) give Santa an evil opponent in the form of a goat demon with a taste for kidnapping.

And all of these things provide foundation for future ones.

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(I am not going to spend a lot of time listing high-quality Christmas foods and drinks, explaining why Santa Claus is a punchy and compelling bit of myth, etc. I think you can probably construct those points on your own.)

(...I suppose I will take the time to point out, briefly, that in additional to everything else, Christmas has so many good and distinctive symbols. The manger scene, the magi on their camels, the Christmas tree, Santa in his sleigh, the wreath, the wrapped gift box, the colors red and green...)

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It is true, of course, that Christmas is a family holiday. And that alone is enough to ensure that many people, especially around these parts, despise it.

There is, of course, a version of Christmas suitable for wholly-independent adults. Which matters. You can have a very Christmassy Christmas, full of lights and festival music and gifts and myth, celebrated entirely in the company of your peers. But, yeah, the world kinda expects you to Go Home (if your family celebrates Christmas) and you'll have to deal with various kinds of trouble if you choose not to do that.

I refuse to deduct points for that. It is not inherently bad to be a family holiday; in the end, holidays are probably more important for kids than for anyone else; if for some diabolical reason I had to choose between having only family holidays and having only independent-adult holidays, I'd choose the former, even though I personally enjoy the latter more most of the time. The fact that you don't like spending time with your family is not a knock on the holiday, any more than your being allergic to cheese is a knock on cheese.

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It is also true that Christmas is kind of inescapable. As I said above, it pervades. Which means that, if you don't like it, you still have to deal with it quite a lot, and that's probably going to make you like it even less.

I don't blame anyone for feeling that way. But, like, that is inherently an outgrowth of the holiday's success and popularity.

Being popular doesn't necessarily mean that something is good. You can even be legitimately annoyed that something is over-popular or overhyped. In the end, however, anything is going to cater to the people who love it and not to the people who hate it, especially if catering to the people who hate it primarily means "existing less." This is double-plus true for a holiday, where (as discussed above), being really widespread and close-to-universally-adopted provides a power and a value all its own.

#holiday analysis

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