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tangerinesilk · 10 months

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－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other.

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later.

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.”

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-”

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up.

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman.

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…”

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek.

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you.

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, “What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head.

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice.

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted?

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time.

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass.

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.”

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.”

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor.

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure.

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them.

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock.

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning.

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw.

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing.

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine fic

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sgiandubh · 24 days

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Good morning to you...as always, this person is very indignant and enraged.

https://www.tumblr.com/maximumwobblerbanditdonut/748583730081333248/the-unexpected-guests?source=share

Dear (returning) Mythomaniac Anon,

Sorry for the delay and see below why. Well, then: how was that, at their end of the rope, across the street?

I know, I am quoting BIF (that petty, nasty, condescending woman), their Main Intellectual Luminary (LOL for years), but see how easy it is to boomerang anything?

And I will even suit myself and quote her some more, lookie here:

I am not even sorry. Karma is a bitch, like that and it seems to have backfired badly on BIF's comadre, 'Max'. You see, I can immediately tell when people who have NO idea about what LAW really is, start talking about it. They will always be oh so damn literal and oh so damn mechanical in their 'reasonings'. I mean, if law were to be read as is, why would we even bother going to law school, right? Why not have AI sort it out, literally and mechanically, too (and boy does 'Max' sound like an android when she starts droning her maximum wobbling bullshit)? You see, in law, it's never enough to copy/paste something, because this is about people, money and interests, being those individual or collective. Timelines are important (and indispensable in any legal approach), but never enough: what makes the difference is always the particular context and the interpretation of facts - that is, by the way, called jurisprudence, when it becomes a legally binding precedent (not our modest case, here), in common law system countries (the UK, the US) or a complementary source of law, like in Roman/Civil law systems, such as the French and Romanian ones, which I know best. There is a technical distinction between those two concepts (legally binding precedent and complementary source of law) and I once passed a whole year written exam in Public French Law with honors, picking this exact topic, but I won't bother you with it, Anon. In a nutshell, tread carefully when you open that droning mouth and leave no stone unturned, if possible. Otherwise, you'd make a fool out of yourself, with bullshit like this:

There is no Midhope Distillery Company Ltd, you fool. There once was the Midhope Castle Distillery Ltd, as I have abundantly shown in not one, but two posts. It did not 'change its name' in 2023, it was dissolved by voluntary write-off (third time might be a charm, across the street, maybe the coin would drop?). And one more time, for you Mordor people in the back: there is no way to know who the shareholders of a given company are, based on the Company House records, nor the amount of their participation. This is confidential information, as shown also in the Planning Proposal - once more, I repost the screenshot:

' The Business Plan, submitted (...) under Private and Confidential cover, provides background information on the applicant'. Including, but not limited to, the existing investors/shareholders - it is essential to show the local authorities your business project is not a whim or a dream.

She also writes confidently stuff like:

That is simply not true. As I have also shown in my last post, Outlander is explicitly mentioned in both the first and the revised Planning Proposals, as a strong argument for the entire business project. It may serve to remember that one of the elements justifying it was to provide the 20k seasonal visitors of the Midhope Castle Grounds an opportunity to access the (vastly) improved interior of the castle, along with a whisky related experience/discovery activity, accommodation and high-end dining opportunity. Again, I repost the screenshot, because those people are mendacious by nature and it is perhaps the only way to show them some facts (not useless factoids):

That being said, we can speculate and deduct a simple correlation between a company actively looking for investors to support their now vastly revised, ten-year project and an actor-cum-entrepreneur who might be interested/already involved in that project. Unless he'd make a formal announcement himself, at some point in time, there is no way to confirm. 'Max' should perhaps learn to water down her confident tone, sometimes, especially when it is obvious she did not look at the documents herself, used only Google in the arrogant and foolish hope 'those tinhat shippers are stupid' and has 0 (zero) legal expertise.

This whole thing might be pending approval, but let's not forget the first Planning Statement was approved back in 2020 (which is a good starting point), that they have secured a business partnership with the owner of the land, Lord Hope (the 4th Marquess of Linlithgow) and that as far as I could read during those past two days, all the reports seem ok, at least up until this point in time. I see no reason why they wouldn't meet and talk about it: on which planet is that such a big deal and on which planet could that be construed as 'conflict of interest' (another one of 'Max's' arguments), given the organic link between OL and Midhope, since 2013?

I also have made a hasty mistake, in my previous post, when dealing with Ken Robertson's participation to the project. He continued to be involved, as my penned timeline shows, in both Hopetoun Estate Distillery Ltd and Hopetoun Estate Whiskies Ltd, as a Director, continuously from May 2017 until their dissolution, in December 2022. Again, it's all on the timeline - see what I just did, here? LOL for a century and a half.

And for Marple's 'Sorry' clip, I have the perfect reply. Especially the chorus, of course - ignore the rest, it's about some Seventies playboy, quite an Alternate Universe from hers:

youtube

I will stop now, Anon. With the MPC Gala just round the corner, all the eyes will be on that one. This drama will probably draw to a fizzled denouement, as they always do, in this fandom. But I will follow that business project and report from time to time. I bet the farm we'll have news, rather sooner than later.

#anon #fandom #shitshow #boozewars

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ouroborosman · 8 months

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Actor!Wally AU Story Lore!

Okay!!! I've been sitting on a bunch of unfinished images but I wanna share this now! I'll update the pics as they get finished~

Here's the story lore for Jay in the Actor Wally AU!

Wally actor AU created by @frillsand!

Jay is a 20-something that moved to a larger city about a year or two ago. She was born and raised in a pretty small town, and being the oldest of her two other siblings, was set to inherit the farm her family owned. She really hated how secluded she was from everything, and decided to set off to a nearby city to make something of herself. She might even go to college, she told them!

The learning curve was really harsh to this formerly-sheltered girl. She brought some money with her she saved up, but that was gone before she knew it. She luckily managed to get a job and apartment before actually becoming homeless.

One thing she had always liked was crafting and sewing and found herself doing such in her free time. She got fairly good at it. It was one day she ran into one of her puppet neighbors that had managed to get a pretty large tear in their arm. She offered to fix them up! Word spread around and soon enough Jay had a little community of puppets around her asking for repairs and she happily obliged.

This actually worked out well for Jay. Eventually she had puppets asking for cosmetic things, like decorative embroidery and such on their bodies. Jay charged a small fee for these services. Word got around enough that Jay actually got accepted for temporary jobs that she applied for, and she basically became an independent contractor of sorts. Along with her cosmetic services and selling her plushies she began making, she made an okay living.

Later she gets accepted to a ‘floater’ position for Welcome Home Productions, covering for people that call in. Normally she would probably bounce from how stressful the set is, but the better pay and more reliable work opportunities keeps her there for now. Plus, she enjoys her tasks at work! She often makes props, consults for costume designing, and other things alike.

THE MEET~~

Jay of course knew of Wally Darling before, often passing him by or watching as he worked on set. His reputation and behavior toward staff kept her pretty wary of him and she steered clear.

Too bad that she was covering for his seamstress one day! And how unfortunate that she needed to fix up an outfit he was currently wearing! Lmao. She really did expect him to bite her head off, but much to her surprise he wasn’t too bad. Small talk between them led to her explaining the other odd jobs and commissions she takes, as well as an off-hand mention about mending puppet injuries. Wally takes a bit of interest in that, how strange that a human chooses to do that? As soon as she’s done with the costume fix up she skitters off because he still intimidates her lol.

Seeing that he wasn’t as bad as his reputation said, Jay forms a little crush on him throughout her time on set. She jumped at the opportunity of a blind date with him! He’s awkward and she finds it cute and flirts with him a bit. Probably after this date, they became somewhat friendlier towards each other and chat at work when they get the chance.

(pic soon to come maybe!)

Aaand that’s the base story in my head! I think leaving it open-ended makes it fun to imagine different scenarios! Thanks for listening to my brainrot if you made it this far!! <3

~~~

Other little factoids that will probably never be relevant to the main story:

Jay freaking loves bugs!! She’d become an entomologist if given the opportunity. School is expensive, though!

Jay keeps a few pet insects and has a cat

Though she has a little community of puppet neighbors for company, Jay lives alone. She gets really lonely sometimes, as her best friends became long distance when she moved

Maybe her loneliness is why she has so many plushies. She basically is surrounded by them when she sleeps.

She is quiet and polite to associates. To friends, she indulges in strange humor and is pretty goofy. She’s a bit too sensitive for her own good and will get pretty sad if she thinks her friends are upset with her.

Jay’s clothing style is a mishmash of cutesy-pastel and punkish. She likes fem and androgynous clothes best. She can’t afford many outfits anyways tho-

Jay loves biology and nature. She spends most of her time inside doing work and hobby stuff, though

#welcome home actor au #wally actor au #wally darling #welcome home puppet show #actor au #welcome home oc #welcome home #diva wally #self insert #oc #frillsand #gosart

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doll-elvis · 9 months

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✰ New interview with Reeca Smith about her time with Elvis

- I was googling some things about Elvis (as one does) and I randomly came across this interview that was just posted yesterday featuring Reeca Smith Gossan who was briefly involved with Elvis from September 1974-January 1975

it’s only about 40 minutes long but worth the listen in my opinion !! Reeca seems really sweet and is very adamant about defending Elvis and his intentions with her. However if you don’t have the time to listen I did list some of the most important/interesting keynotes below ⬇️

- According to Reeca, the U.S release of the Amazon documentary was delayed not because of Currie Grant’s involvement, but because of the passing of Lisa Marie. This didn’t make much sense to me in regards to the timeline so I’m wondering if the makers of the documentary used that reason as the company line as opposed to saying they didn’t want any legal trouble with Currie/Priscilla. She did say it will be coming out “hopefully soon”, and if I had to guess, I think it will come out either before the release of the upcoming Priscilla movie or after (probably to cash in on the hype)

- Reeca also said that she is involved in an upcoming project with 60 Minutes (Australia’s version, not the U.S) about Elvis, however she gave no other info than the fact that she was being interviewed for it. So I’m not sure if this 60 minutes special will be just about Elvis’ women, or about Elvis all together

- She also talked about how it was Jerry Schilling and Joe Esposito who urged her to initially share her story as they wanted the world to know that Elvis had good intentions with her, despite how their age difference looked on paper

- And for now I’m giving kudos to Reeca because she said she has declined several opportunities to share her story about Elvis over the years as many were going in a direction she didn’t like. For example, she declined an offer to be involved on a project that was named “Elvis: the Cradle Robber”

- Another little random factoid is that while she was working in California, she actually met and became acquainted with Austin Butler’s mother (what a small world 😭)

- As for her relationship with Elvis, she says she first met him in September of 1974, and met up with him throughout that whole month. Then she met up with him again throughout November of 1974. And then lastly in January of 1975

- Their first initial meeting started with a shopping spree where Reeca left with over 2700 dollars worth of clothes, including a rhinestone-denim-suede floor length coat that she still has to this day

- After the shopping spree they went back to Graceland and one of the Memphis Mafia guys brought her down to the TV room where Elvis soon came down to talk with her

- She said they had a very very long talk and that was Elvis was extremely inquisitive, asked tons of questions, and basically wanted to know all about her

- Reeca also talks about how Elvis’ biggest source of happiness was giving other people happiness, and that he almost managed to do so just by getting information from casual conversations

- For example when Elvis was asking Reeca what her favorite animal was, she didn’t know it was because he was planning on buying whatever she said. She loved cats, so Elvis wanted to buy her a white persian cat. Dave Hebler, one of the guys, was assigned with the task of finding a white persian cat but came up short 💀 He settled on a little dog and showed up with the dog at Reeca’s doorstep, courtesy of Elvis

- Another example is that when Elvis and her were talking about his cars, she casually mentioned that she loved Trans Am. Just a few hours later after telling Elvis this, Reeca was asked to close her eyes, and was then escorted to the front of Graceland by Elvis where a brand new Trans Am was waiting for her 👀 Elvis made a pact with her and her parents that the car would only sit in their drive-way until Reeca was old enough to get her license

** Also Elvis was very open and honest with her parents, and personally called them everytime he wanted Reeca to come over. She said he would even let them know what exactly they would be doing, and who exactly was in the house

However Reeca did say there was a few occasions where he wanted Reeca to fly with him on tour but that idea was promptly shut down by her parents

- And when asked about if Elvis was able to go anywhere without bodyguards she talked about how Elvis and her would take off alone and go driving up and down on Elvis Presley Boulevard, without letting any of the Memphis Mafia know where they were going … which of course made them mad as they worried about Elvis’ safety but Reeca said Elvis was never worried

- As I mentioned Reeca was 14 at the time and so she was naturally very curious to know why Elvis wanted to spend time with her, and Elvis’ answer to that was that she reminded him of his childhood and of a simpler time where people didn’t expect so much out of him

** Elvis was very content just to have her company as neither one of them put any pressure on each-other and Reeca said he particularly loved reading the Bible to her, and spending hours just talking

- He was also extremely protective of Reeca and made it known to her and the guys that she was never to have any of the medication/pills the group took, after she had inquired about them from seeing them in his bedroom

- And according to her, it does seem like Elvis intended on having a future with her as they talked about they could be together more when she was older, and how Elvis was going to help her accomplish her dream of becoming a model as he had the connections to do so

- But the relationship/friendship ended up being short lived as Reeca saw that Elvis was going on a downward spiral. Whenever her mom said that Elvis was on the phone and wanting to talk to her, she declined the invitation. She was very young and she talked about how she felt scared and very helpless as there was nothing she could do to stop him

- The very last time she saw him in person was in January of 1975. He made the trip to her house alone, driving his yellow Pantera, and asked her to come out and talk to him at his window. She said she nearly didn’t recognize him as it was clear that his physical and mental health was declining

- After she stopped seeing Elvis, Reeca says that’s when she started hanging out with Ricky and David Stanley more on their own. They were terrible influences on her and were actually responsible for getting 15-year-old Reeca on some hardcore drugs

- Reeca also said that if Elvis had ever found out about what Ricky and David were doing, he would have either kicked them out or killed them (deserved tbh 🤧)

- She gives Elvis credit for being the one to inspire her to turn her life around. Soon after Elvis’ passing she was involved a very bad car accident as she was driving while high, and that became the turning point. Reeca even said if it wasn’t for what Elvis showed her, she would be dead right now

- Reeca was really impacted by Elvis’ passing as he was the first person close to her to pass away, she really struggled with coming to terms with the fact that she would never see him again. And according to her, on the day of Elvis’ funeral, Joe Esposito brought her in for a private viewing of Elvis in his casket which gave her the closure she needed as it became very real that he was actually gone

- When asked about why Elvis felt lonely and could sometimes be unhappy, Reeca said it always felt like Elvis was reaching for something. She also believes that in the later years when his health deteriorated and struggled to make it through concerts, he felt like he wasn’t make anybody happy anymore and that’s what killed him inside

#I actually really loved listening to this!!#I never knew how influential he was in her life #hopefully more news comes out about the 60 minutes special #I’m really curious to know what exactly the story is #I would have paid to see the ass whooping that Elvis would have unloaded on Ricky and David had he found out what they did #reeca smith #elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #elvis history #elvis fans #elvis news #elvis documentary

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aaghht · 2 years

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minor spoilers for the usagi chronicles series but just wanna try and figure out a timeline here, so...

Miyamoto Usagi is established as a "distant ancestor" of Usagi

Yuichi Usagi lives in a futuristic Edo inspired era/re-imagining of the comic world

Neo Edo exists about 1000 yrs into the future? (i think the show itself doesn't establish this as strictly, so i think might have gotten this from some NYCC livestream or something) Edit (24.10): Actually, the show establishes this a few times, but it's a bit vague/always the same:

One of the dog police guarding Usagi in ep 2 tells him the story of Miyamoto Usagi and how he was a big traitor, starting with:

In the first ep, it's established that a 1000 years ago, something happened with the main villain Kagehito, to make him hate Miyamoto Usagi - for sealing him in the Ki-Stone for a thousand years.

The same episode, Karasu-Tengu also mistakes Usagi for Miyamoto, and says a similar line about the Ki-Stone:

Then the season end establishes that this sealing of Yokai and Kagehito by Miyamoto Usagi was to hold off an invasion from another dimension/space a 1000 years ago.

Another little factoid to build on: in the 1st ep, when meeting Usagi, Gen says it's the first time he's seen a rabbit in the city;

(edit end)

Auntie mentions in the 1st ep that her and Usagi's great-grandfather made her sword, Edgewing, together "back when I was your age." - so I assumed here first that Miyamoto is the great-grandfather Auntie means here. (edit: again, how old is Auntie if she's had her sword for that long???)

so when in season 2, Usagi and crew save Neo Edo and then visit the temple again, they see Miyamoto Usagi reflected from the Ki-Stone, he calls Usagi his grandson. I checked this in translations and the subtitles too and there's no mistaking his words there.

so I'm just wondering... What is the timeline here?? how many generations have passed between Miyamoto's time and Usagi's time?

Also, since they have different last names (Miyamoto and Yuichi) and Yuichi is his grandson, I guess I can only assume that Miyamoto Usagi had at least two daughters: Auntie and Yuichi's mom.

edit 2 (Oct 24): The 2nd season establishes that at some point, Miyamoto sent his sword, Willow Branchs away for safekeeping with a servant. The sword is lost in a war those same "1000 years ago"so at what point did Miyamoto Usagi of this series die? How old is Auntie? What's the life-span of rabbits that there are so few of them that a bounty hunter like Gen (who we will assume, travels or at least sees people a lot), would be surprised to see a rabbit in the city?

This begs another question.... if we assume their lifespans are actually quite long.... How many rabbits are left?

a 1000 years is definitely enough time for a heroic character like Miyamoto to be rumored into a villain, but even a 100 years is enough for that sometimes, so is it really a 1000 years?

Yokai are mythical beings so they can basically exist and remember a time like that easily enough, but since they've been locked away for a whole 10 centuries... (edit end)

sdfsdfsdfs i would just like to know more plz

seriously, this show is so fun but i know almost nothing abt the og comic series except maybe stuff I once read on fan wikis, so I guess I'll have to introduce myself to the series proper one day. I believe the series is a bit more removed from the series in that it exists in the comic world but in a further away sci-fi future, so it isn't too bad that it's left vague in the Netflix series.

but I'm still just wondering??? so Yuichi Usagi is a grandson???

Gen, Kitsune and Chizu are also either distant descendats/direct re-interpretations and unique takes on the side-characters of the og comic series, so very non-seriously I'm just wondering here how the family trees look like lol

edit 3 (Oct 24th): so with all this in mind..... is Auntie Miyamoto's daughter and then, Usagi's own mom, his youngest daughter? How old did the other characters from the og Usagi's time live? How many generations have passed for their families? Gen has a family tree, but both Chizu and Kitsune are orphans - how old aaahhh so many questions (edit end)

also listening to an interview with both Stan Sakai and art director Khang Le on this podcast and it all just sounds so inspiring to me but I just thought I'd make this post to think about what the timeline/relation might be. I also think it might not be that important since the show itself seems to be spiritually faithful as a spinoff to the comic, but still, got a bit curious haha!

edit 4 (Oct 24th): also, from that same interview, I remember they mentioned that Neo Edo as a futuristic city (a 1000 years from the Edo-era of the Usagi Yojimbo series) has flying cars. There are talking appliances (not Yokai-posessed), vending machines (a staple of modern japanese cities?) and futuristic games, like TRON-esque car racing games, but interestingly, no phones. So the crew put a bit of thought into that - what would a futuristic world without phones look like?

signed - Aghht, 19th October, 2022 (might add more as I remember)

#usagi chronicles #samurai rabbit #samurai rabbit the usagi chronicles #miyamoto usagi #yuichi usagi #just thinking #fandom posts #aghhtposts #forgot if i had any tags for fan theories/fantalk #fantalk #usagi chronicles spoilers #spoilers #samurai rabbit spoilers

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outrunningthedark · 1 year

Note

given that buck has a new couch and given that andrew wrote the first couch thing back in the s6 premiere, think well get any sort of callback to it???

Narratively speaking, if anyone's gonna mention the couch it should be Eddie since he's the only one who had an awareness of the situation in canon, but there's still the possibility it's nbd because of the time that has passed (off-screen) between Buck going home with Maddie + parents and tonight's episode (because it's not like Eddie won't have been over already)... *shrug* What *I* think would be funny is if Eddie declines the opportunity to sit on the couch because he tried that last time and his back was not happy (which would fit with Oliver's factoid about the couch being a not-so-fun experience due to how uncomfortable it was) 😄

#anonymous #tina speaks #911 speculation #911 spoilers #buddie

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thesinglesjukebox · 6 months

Text

VICTORIA MONÉT - "ON MY MAMA"

youtube

Your Fun Pop Factoid Of The Day: the uncredited vocals on will.i.am's "I Got It From My Mama" are by Kat Graham.

[7.65]

Nortey Dowuona: I TOUCHED A JAGUAR'S SWAG AND NOW I HAVE A TAIL: STORYTIME [9]

Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: The backstory for Victoria Monét's "On My Mama" may overpower the song one day: sat in the studio during COVID, battling postpartum depression, singing affirmations that she didn't yet believe. It's powerful, and now that it's a hit, it's the type of tale that pastors will add extra sizzle to, knowing it'll ring the congregation's bells. And yet, the song is slinkier and more pared-down than the built-in uplift would have you believe. Cheekier, too, zapped with tossed-off gags that are Monét's secret weapon: I always giggle at "[I] might be too fine to hit it from behi-yi-yi-yind". Ribald and heartwarming -- quite a combination. [8]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The bassline's two-note filigrees are self-assured in their minimalist swerve -- effortless cool without lifting much more than a finger. "On My Mama" operates in this reserved mode for its entire runtime, capturing the righteous act of feeling yourself via Chalie Boy's "I Look Good." Ironically, the hook sounds constrained in this new context, trapped inside the hallowed gloss of triumphant brass. It's less thrilling when the instrumentation telegraphs that -- why let anything else explain that you're good enough? Still, this sleeked out take on Southern-rap braggadocio does find a moment of comparable excellence when Monét utters "sex game go stuUUupid." It isn't playful or horny, just domineering and cocksure; she doesn't sing that line for anyone but herself. [6]

Ian Mathers: Monét weaves so effortlessly and precisely among all the little bass pushes and gently peaking horns that it'd be easy to overlook how crucial her performance is here. But it is, and she nails the hell out of it. She rightfully mentions being deep in her bag, but this whole thing is also almost impossibly in several different kinds of pocket at once. [9]

Oliver Maier: Professional, fairly tedious, sounding so built for Tiny Desk that I'm shocked it hasn't happened yet. This would really benefit from some oomph, or at least some hi-hats. [4]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: The bass doesn't slap quite as hard as I want it to. But really, that's the only note I have here -- Ms. Monét is so self-assured here on this slab of funk, stringing together one-liners that lesser artists would be lucky to get one of like she's got an infinite supply. I always want extended versions of pop songs, but I especially want one here. [8]

Alfred Soto: Like a suite in a four-star hotel, everything's where it's supposed to be: the horn section, the bass line, and Victoria Monét's polished vocal. From Jamila Woods recording her own Avalon and Corinne Bailey Rae her own Sign 'o the Times on one disc to K Michelle reveling in tradition, 2023 was a wonderful year for female R&B artists: they sing their bodies eclectic. "I think we deserve it, right?" Monét asks rhetorically. [8]

Leah Isobel: "I just wanna live in a fantasy," Monét sings, her voice burnished gold. "I think we deserve it, right?" This song -- by design -- makes me remember 2000s R&B and pop, the era of Ciara and "Do It To It" and Usher's imperial phase, when the whole industry's center of gravity briefly shifted to Atlanta. The welding of hip-hop's stance and production with pop's melody created what felt, at the time, like the most impossibly cool music I had ever heard, both celebratory and strong. That trend passed, as all pop music trends do; as I left childhood, pop music became more nihilistically post-human. I like that stuff, too. But "On My Mama" triggers a specific memory button in which I remember a version of the world in which it seemed like people could keep pace, if you were tough enough. Monét brings a soft allure to that fantasy: it could be good. It could still be good. [8]

David Moore: There's been a scourge of millennial hip-hop worship that somehow takes some of the most joyous music ever produced and reduces it to the great gray blob of content, just execrable nostalgia-mining of the lowest order for almost every major rap and R&B hit between c. 2002 and 2007, so how refreshing is it to hear a pitch-perfect post-Aaliyah minimal R&B performance with the period-appropriate accoutrement to match: is that a real horn section? Chopped and screwed ad-libs? Oh my god, are those punchlines?? "I'm so deep in my bag like a grandma with a peppermint / they say ooh she smell good, that's because I'm heaven scent." Perfect. [9]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: "On My Mama" is sexy, swaggering, and most importantly, fun. Victoria Monét's glow-up from Ariana Grande sidekick to Grammy Award nominee is the exact type of thing everyone should have predicted on their 2023 bingo card. Extra point for making me smile with "I'm so deep in my bag/Like a grandma with a peppermint." [8]

Kayla Beardslee: "I'm so deep in my bag, like a grandma with a peppermint / They say, 'Oh she smell good,' that's just 'cause I'm heaven-scent" isn't actually the lyric of the year... or is it?? [9]

Katherine St Asaph: Cocaine-decor sumptuous to an almost surreal extent. Wish Monét hadn't crammed all her good lines into the second verse, though. [7]

Brad Shoup: Starts off luxe and slinky, a getting-ready ode that annexes the club before she walks through the door, similar to Kelly Rowland's "Like This". After the first chorus, she's thoroughly feeling herself, and the jokes and vocal elasticism put her in Post Malone territory. Not a bad thing! Peak Posty would've avoided the triumphant "SpottieOttieDopaliscious" horns (his loss), but probably wouldn't have bothered sampling Chalie Boy after a perfectly fine interpolation. Feels like padding. [7]

Alex Ostroff: Any song with even a passing resemblance to "SpottieOttieDopaliscious" is always going to hit almost every pleasure centre in my brain. [8]

Michelle Myers: Jaguar II is a phenomenal album, but I'm hard-pressed to pick a single track that demonstrates how sophisticated and immersive this record is when experienced in full. It's definitely not "On My Mama." [6]

Rachel Saywitz: "On My Mama" isn't Victoria Monét's best single, but it's unsurprising that it's the one that's garnered the most critical and commercial acclaim. There's a homely essence to its meandering horn lines and grounding low rumbles, like the human-shaped indent on your grandparents' old leather couch that looks like it's been there forever. Here, Monét eschews her honeyed voice to command in a deeper, wiser tone, as if relaying knowledge from her elders onto a new generation, and I'd absolutely love it if I didn't already know that Monét is capable of more wondrous and sexy R&B. And yet, listening to "On My Mama" still sounds like a bit of a triumph. The song, along with its success, seems like a testament to all the work Monét has put in to get to this moment: you can hear, for example, the trademarks of her writing that are more widely known in the voices of others, such in the Ariana-like playful tilt of its second verse. For those fans who've been with her for years, it's hard not to think of "On My Mama" as anything other than a long-anticipated greeting -- a toasty home on a chilly day, a sweet smile and open arms, the words, "welcome home." [7]

Aaron Bergstrom: Man, to tell the truuuuth, my opinion is irrelevant. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#victoria monet #music #pop music #r&b #music writing #music reviews #the singles jukebox #Youtube

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iamthescalesofjustice · 2 years

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meme posts that got the poster sniped before they could actually post them to the earth bet internet

‘was anyone gonna tell me that glaciate, paracelsus, arsenal (the 2nd one), jack of diamonds, elevenses, equipster, hazeclank, exfil, breakneck (the 1st one), mirkwood, madcap, and assault are all actually the same person or i was i just supposed to find that out from my cousin who works at watchdog having a breakdown and getting blackout drunk’

see also ‘was anyone gonna tell me that assault, accord, marquis, panacea, regent, and that new member of the s9 are all closely related or was i supposed to find that out from my cousin who works at watchdog and is currently passed out in my bathroom’ (he is not passed out that was the poison taking effect)

#disclaimer this is about the version of earth bet that lives in my head that has very little to do with canon and a lot more to do with #years worth of highly-tangled personal canons for dozens and dozens of works as well as original settings i have had for decades and the #massive cast of characters that inhabit it some of whom i decide to tie canonish characters to for various reasons including but not #limited to 'honoring a random dream' among other stuff #no i will never do a deep dive of any of this only mention the iceberg in passing #fun fact: yeah the suits call the role knave instead of jack. or at least they sure do by the 2010s. guess why #average indie cape on lasts a few months factoid is actually a statistical error. capenames georg who has been in the business for years an #adn has had over a dozen separate cape identities is a statistical outlier and should not have been counted #said i wasnt gonna elaborate but i do want to clarify this is not a poison apple situation. these are all completely separate cape personas #operating in different regions over the years each with different mannerisms seemingly different physical traits and powers and #different alignments to boots (notably glaciate; arsenal 2; and jack of diamonds were heroes; madcap #was outright villainous obvs as was breakneck; equipster was officially a villain after awhile and exfil was a very murky merc. paracelsus #was a rogue but with a very positive track record; hazeclank and elevenses rogues aswell #mirkwood was an outlier within the outlier as no one ever got a read on what was going on there. and assault is a hero obvs)

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procrastinatorproject · 2 years

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Holo-Tech Database

Over the last seven or so months, I have watched through every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It’s the first time I’ve seen the entire series, there were quite a few episodes in the later seasons I’d never seen before. Quite an enjoyable experience on the whole.

But because I’m me, of course I didn’t just watch TNG. Instead, I took notes every single time the holodeck or any other piece of holo-technology played a part in the plot, were the setting for even the briefest of scenes, or so much as got mentioned. Essentially, I’m building towards a database of every little scrap of canonical information about holo-technology that I can get my hand on. And this was a start.

I haven’t had the time or energy to look through all of my notes in detail. There is a lot of information in there already. Of course, I’ll only be able to draw any real conclusions once I add in all the data from DS9, Voyager, and PIC, (since I’m interested in the state of technology at the time La Sirena is in operation, because of course that’s what this is about), but it’ll be quite a while before I get there.

So, in lieu of any detailed analysis, here are some quick impressions of my first foray into holo-episode-tracking!

[Image ID: a table showing the number of total holo-episodes for TNG is 58, and breaking that number down for each season. Season 1 has 10 episodes, season 2 has 8, season 3 has 6, season 4 has 9, season 5 and 6 both have 8, and season 7 has 9 episodes. /end ID]

My observation aren’t limited to the holodeck, but also to other instances of holo-technology. An example for an entry might be:

S03 E04 - Who Watches the Watchers

Archaeologists watch a pre-warp civilzation from an outpost that is hidden behind a holo-projection of a rock

The projection is powered by a 4.2 Gigahertz generator, which is failing.

When the projection is reinstated, it is solid to the touch and indistinguishable from the surrounding rock

In total, my notes about TNG (including episode titles) come out to 18.417 words, though my notes did get more elaborate the later the season. I still think I made a note of every time holo-tech was mentioned, even if it was just in passing. Though only a full rewatch would confirm that, of course, and I’m not there yet 😅

One interesting factoid I have pulled from the data so far is whether the holodeck/holo-tech is the main focal point or main setting for the episode, whether it’s importance is only secondary (only a short scene, inclusion has no bearing on the plot or characters, etc.) or whether it is merely mentioned but is not actually seen on screen.

[Image ID: a pie-chart titled “Role of Holo-Tech in the Episode”. Over have of the pie are episodes labeled “secondary”. The wedge labeled “Offscreen” is about a fifth of the pie. The wedge labeled “Main” is slightly larger than the “Offscreen” one, and comes to a quarter of the pie when you add the very small wedge labeled “Main (questionable)”. /End ID]

So this is what I’ve been working on - and why watching all of TNG has taken so long. I frequently got stuck when an episode hit a holo-moment and I didn’t feel like getting out the notes, or when I knew the next episode was one of the designated Holodeck Episodes 😅

But I’m still glad I’m doing this. Research!!!

Next: The TNG movies and DS9!

#star trek #star trek tng #star trek technology #star trek meta #holo technology #holo-meta #i also started watching tng because i wanted to have seen the whole show before picard season 2 came out #so the ds9 rewatch will probably have to take a backseat at some point for a PIC season 1 rewatch #but there is SO MUCH INFO THERE you guys! so much holo-technology! and so much that doesn't make *any* sense and allows me to basically make #up my meta how ever i please 😁#very satisfying

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cherrywoes · 3 years

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dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him.

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taglist: @picturethosesmiles (open)

#ryoumen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojou satoru #gojo satoru #itadori yuuji

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since-it-must-be-so · 3 years

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Choujin X: Chapter 1

So I'm really excited to read more of Sui Ishida's newest manga, and I'm arriving just in time for the front seats! I don't want to let this pass without writing down my thoughts on the first chapter and possibly look at it in the future as the story progresses. You can read it here:

Having said that, please note there will be spoilers ahead!

Tomato Girl

The chapter starts with this cute little girl with that native(?) farmer-like hat, who supposedly grows big fruits (it's huge in Japan, look it up!). I think she will also be a main character since she's the first person we see. From this point I'll call her Tomato Girl. She is obviously from a rural area and is a farmer. We see her motivation is money (and that big dog... which, I think we will see in the future lol). She also wants to marry a "handsome goldilocks hubbie", lol. Wonder if this means she's going to be a love interest of the other cast? She also wants to have 9 kids. Naki and Miza, is that you?! Lol. So here, we have a girl with lofty aspirations! We shall see if any of this will happen or if it will change or if she's lying!

Also an observation - Tomato Girl is also close with her granddad, since she said she's going to the contest in lieu of her granddad (whose back was hurt). She obviously has this strong personality, standing up to the creepy bad guy, who was going to hit the old lady.

Bad Guy

The Bad Guy (since this guy doesn't have a name yet) is obviously a terrorist-for-hire. Also seems to be obsessed with beauty and elegance. I would guess his power lies in blowing things up?

I think, though, that Tomato Girl is a choujin herself, considering she didn't immediately get blown away. Plus, Bad Guy was on fire, and so was she. So, it doesn't necessarily mean Tomato Girl is already dead. She also seems to be reaching out to the Bad Guy as that scene ends.

It's later revealed that despite the plane crash, there were 200 survivors. Hmmmmmmm. Maybe they were turned into choujins?Only the hull was burned but the frame wasn't.

Tokio Kurohara and Azuma Higashi

Yes, the MC! He's notices the plane catching fire. Then, for some reason, Tokio's teacher (Ms. Bazonkas) has a weird voluptuous design. BUT, I think there's something afoot there. She might actually also be a choujin. Possibly a mentor role for Tokio? She seems to be very knowledgeable.

Anyway, going back to Tokio. He's introduced as a sixteen-year-old high school sophomore from Tsuru High. Like any high school kid, he finds studying math to be useless. We're also shown that lives in a district which has destroyed buildings. Possibly dystopian future?

We next find a girl getting harassed by a Mohawk guy and his 2 honchos. Tokio calls for someone, turns out to be Azuma. I just thought it's funny how he called for Azuma, he sounds like a police officer. Haha. But right after, Azuma is introduced, flying from a building.. a very dramatic, heroic entrance. He kinda looks like a hybrid of Haise and Armin from AOT for me. Haha. He's so cute and tiny but he's strong and is apparently the town hero. He breaks the arm of the thug, which Tokio thinks is going too far.

The girl seems to be a pretty girl, and I think she will play a role later on. She's a lot older than them, since she said she's going to an interview. She will possibly a love interest or a villain, but I think more of the latter. I just read CSM so I'm wary of pretty girls lol. Anyway, I think there's something there to link her with Azuma, considering, Azuma introduces both Azuma and Tokio but she only seems to thank or acknowledge Azuma. Tokio even says "don't mention it" even if the girl didn't even thank him, lol.

Azuma and Tokio talk about the plane crash, and it's revealed that choujins seem to abuse their power, and that the attack is kinda normal. We look at their hometown which is really wrecked. Buildings are dilapitated in an abnormal manner -- one building looks like it was done in with a circular force... They live in Yamato Prefecture which is described as an ordinary, self-governed prefecture with some areas partially destroyed. Wonder what self-governed means, but my guess is that it's kinda like a state and the national government is different altogether.

Roly-Poly

Well I never really thought of pill bugs or rolly pollies until I read this. Azuma talks about how roly polies roll around in dry areas and when they find a damp rock, they hide under it. He questions if the roly polies like damp places. And Azuma wonders if choujins are anything like roly-polies. Tokio is confused, so am I. I'm not going to make solid convictions what he means by it, but I think... what Azuma is driving at is that, roly polies and choujins DON'T like damp places. I don't know, I have no reason for this, it's just a guess. We'll see what Azuma means eventually. Haha.

It also appears that choujins are generally bad guys, since Azuma wonders why they don't use their power for good. Maybe something about being a choujin corrupts? Just a guess based on the succeeding events.

They end their conversation with Azuma thinking if he can help with the plane crash. Tokio comments, "seems noble of you" and Azuma says, "it's just a habit". Wonder if Tokio finds Azuma pretentious or if he's genuinely impressed. Azuma's answer is also quite concerning, "just a habit", a question arises if he's sincere in helping in the first place.

The Mohawk Guy

So this guy is supposed to be a funny, evil villain, now bent on exacting revenge from Azuma. Then, a guy (possibly gay guy because he is wearing a lipstick?) with a briefcase offers him an injection.

Tokio's Family

So Tokio has a bigger sister and a dad who seems to be very quiet. Not sure if that's their dad though, it wasn't clear. It's possible they don't have parents anymore and that guy is just an associate. Anyway, it appears that the sister pays Tokio's tuition and she's the breadwinner.

Tokio and his sister talk about Azuma. Azuma is apparently very smart, very athletic (proficient in judo and karate), girls love him, and that his dad is a big shot in the police. The sister questions why Tokio is so proud, and Tokio funnily admits that it's because he feels popular because Azuma is popular. A leech!

Vulture

I just finished re-reading Tokyo Ghoul and :re, and I was blown away by Ishida's art and story. To say I love Kaneki is an understatement. I think I'm going to love Tokio too! I also want to discuss the cover.

So it appears that the cover is the Tokio with an image of a vulture. Tokio is naked and it feels like the vulture is seducing him. From here, I get the vibe that Tokio might be corrupted by the power. "It's something of an affliction" is a dead giveaway. It feels like becoming a choujin or superhuman also corrupts, in a way?

Also since, there seems to be a commentary on the negative view on vultures being scavengers or "steals prey". (Though TBH I always thought vultures wait around for the predator to finish eating and then it eats the scraps??)

On the other hand, Azuma, Tokio's best friend who's mighty strong and brave (almost to a fault), is viewed as a lion by his peers. Also, an uncanny observation is the when Tokio cries about while sitting on the floor, above him is a hyena. Hyenas are known to prey on the carcasses of lions' prey.

It's almost uncanny when Tokio himself says, "I can be a lion too". But Azuma makes Tokio feel better by telling him that buzzards can fly higher than any bird -- telling Tokio to focus on the strength

But even if Tokio admires Azuma, Tokio thinks of telling Azuma when he's going too far. I think this comes from a place of concern. But maybe secretly he's also jealous?

Tokio also even tells Azuma that maybe they should hold hands so Tokio can be more like Azuma, implying that Tokio wants to be like Azuma.

Praying Mantis

Just before Flexi Choujin attacks, Tokio mentions that he bought an insect guidebook and was about to say a factoid about praying mantis near water. I wonder what Tokio was about to say? A search on the internet about praying mantis and water shows this disgusting video of a parasite exiting the praying mantis leaving the mantis to die. Ew. Let's see if this is the factoid Tokio was thinking of. If so, who's the mantis and who's the parasite? Is it Azuma and Tokio, respectively? Hmm. Also, love the insect symbolism. Throwback to Kaneki's centipede!

Flexi Choujin Attack (Johnny Kiyoshi Takeyama)

Mohawk Guy, now a choujin, is a flexi monster who's now more resistant to hits. He attacks Azuma indiscriminately with his new powers. He also kinda goes crazy... His subordinates fear his super violent side, begging him to go back to his "kinda naughty mama boy self", but he ends up snapping their heads off.

For some reason 2 injections fly up into the air?! Maybe someone tossed it. Because as Tokio brought Azuma to the water and brought him back out, he sees the 2 injections. Azuma wants to use it on himself.

Tokio hesitates to have Azuma use it but Azuma insists. Tokio remembers how Azuma saved him from bullies as a kid, and they agreed that Tokio will help Azuma beat the bad guys... Tokio gets the other injection and points to himself. Azuma says Tokio can't but Tokio insists because he feels that it's the only way to stay friends with Azuma. They also promise each other that they will have no regrets over this. This is kinda alarming for me!! Let's see what it will mean in the future.

But instead of both of them transforming into a powerful choujin, only Tokio transforms into one. He looks like a vulture, very beast-like. Looks even like Kaneki's Centipede! I think the other injection might have resulted in a bad/weak power, or maybe it's empty, or maybe Tokio didn't inject Azuma? But I doubt the last one. Anyway, Tokio's choujin look is amazing!

Can't help but feel this scene is related to the praying mantis thing... Maybe my hunch is correct? The parasite exits the mantis when near water, which is why Tokio manages to muster up some courage on his own?

We'll see!! I'm really excited to see this develop. It will be the first manga I will be able to see from the start to finish!

#choujin x #tokiokurohara #azumahigashi #sui ishida #tokio kurohara #azuma higashi #ishida sui #choujinx #superhuman x #superhumanx #bestial choujin #bestialchoujin #flexichoujin #flexi choujin #chojin x #chojinx

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technospotatoes · 3 years

Text

FUNDY LORE ANALYSIS

Howdy, howdy friends! After about 6 hours of pure thinking, I have more Dream SMP brain rot-theory-analysis stuff for you! This week I’m on spring break, so unfortunately I’m not prolonging any assignments haha! Today my focus is FUNDY LORE >:) and I’ve sprinkled in a little IRL factoids for ya to enjoy!

Please lemme know your thoughts, opinions and theories-- and as always, it’s gonna be a long one!

Enjoy <3

TW/CW for brief mentions of derealization-- nothing in detail, just thought I’d let y’all know. Please be safe ily.

Fundy’s lore stream took place today, 3/30/2021. It's roughly 45 minutes, so if you have some time to kill, go watch it! It’s really well done, and his acting is incredible. I will give you a warning; it contains derealization. If you choose not to watch it, here’s a summary from Twitter! link

First, let’s talk about what we know of Fundy’s character so far.

Fundy’s story throughout the events of the SMP are quite tragic. A few key staples are...

1: the death and betrayals of both Wilbur and Schlatt, as well as the absence of Eret-- all of whom he viewed as father figures (Wilbur being his biological father, and Eret his adopted father who failed to show up at his adoption ceremony. Schlatt was a source of validation and approval for Fundy).

2: Jealousy of Tommy and Tubbo-- These two replaced Fundy’s position as Wilbur’s son during the L’Manburg eras, and Fundy became rightfully jealous towards them. He no longer felt valued by his father, and was only more negatively impacted when Wilbur made an attempt to mend that rift.

3: witnessing the rise and ultimate fall of L’Manburg-- and even assisting in its destruction with Niki.

Along with some other rocky encounters with his family members in the timeline, Fundy can be simply boiled down as a character with no stable relationships to his family, or those whom he considers family. However, he does deeply value his friends and the fun that he has with them-- which we can assume is one of his attachments (this will be important later). He takes pride in making mischief and carries a friendly persona… which makes him easily approachable.

He does carry valid reasons to instigate villainous acts-- but he instead chooses to remain neutral due to his fear of losing something else close to him.

I have a number of thoughts regarding Fundy’s character and his current lore, so enough stalling from me, and let's get into it!

Analysis of Stream:

The desert

When Fundy leaves his tower for the first time during the dream sequence, the world is no longer the SMP, but is replaced with a barren desert. From the title of the stream, we can infer that this desert represents Fundy’s Mind and contains the majority of what he thinks about. Deserts often symbolize loneliness or emptiness, and can also be synonymized with brutal honesty or survival. Fundy’s character is indeed alone (in terms of family), and has fought for his survival by being sly and mischievous through Schlatt’s reign of Manburg. Sand itself symbolizes the passage of time, or in other words, the inevitability of the future or truth. As we see in each of the 3 dream sequences, the mysterious bunker containing “truth” appears closer and closer to Fundy’s tower and also becomes more withered and worn on the inside, implying that Fundy cannot escape the coming of truth and future as time passes.

The desert itself contains a replica of the Camarvan from the old L’Manburg days-- likely a representation of Fundy’s childhood that he holds onto dearly, in spite of his past trauma. During the first dream sequence, the van even contains Wilbur-- perhaps to mock Fundy’s pain, or remind him of it. During the second sequence, Wilbur is gone, likely referencing Wilbur’s absence in Fundy’s life, or his death. During the 3rd dream sequence, the Camarvan is replaced with what looks to be a crater, or the aftermath of an explosion. This could possibly reference the ultimate destruction of L’Manburg (and the destruction of the van), or it could be foreshadowing of the destruction in the future…

Side theory, here! Tubbo just lost a nuke, and multiple people have vendettas against Dream / want him dead. The pit seemed like it was made out of black stone and obsidian, the same materials as the prison, so it is likely that this is an allusion to Dream’s possible escape.

Who is “He”?

On his 3rd visit to the odd bunker in his dream world, Fundy reads the 3rd book in the chest. Towards the end, this book warns him of a vague male character that Fundy should not join, or avoid at all costs. To quote the book…

“Do not join him. Whatever he asks of you. Do NOT join him. His plans aren’t as nice as they sound. His intentions aren’t what you think they are. He will use you. He will destroy you. Everything you ever loved, everyone you ever cared about. Do not join him.”

I bet a few characters instantly came to your mind as to who this person that Future Fundy is warning us about, and I’m going to list who I first thought it could be below:

Technoblade and the Syndicate. Now, I disagree with this option, even though Techno has the outright power to destroy anything and everything like he’s done before. However, because of the creation of the Anarchist Syndicate and their accommodating ideals, it would be out of his character or set of ideals to suddenly destroy Fundy’s attachments to purely demonstrate his power. Also, Fundy no longer represents any forms of government, so he does not pose a threat to the Syndicate.

I did theorize here that Fundy could be Harpocrates, but that would imply that he goes against the warnings of his future self. (Also not to mention the placement of this stream in the timeline would have to be much later in the past.) But the more that I think about it, the more likely it could be. It wouldn’t necessarily be out of character for Fundy to join the Syndicate and side with Techno against the warnings of his inner voice, but he has been a spy before…

BBH / the Eggpire. This is also not a likely option for our “he” character, because it is more likely that this dangerous person is not associated with a group such as the Syndicate or Eggpire-- in other words, he operates alone. The Eggpire has plenty of members and those who oppose it, even BBH tried to recruit Fundy and failed. Our “he” has not had an interaction with Fundy yet, and I don’t think that the Eggpire would make an effort to reach out to him again.

My theory is that Quackity is our “he” figure. As I’ve stated before (see my C!Sam post here), Quackity has proven himself to be an effective manipulator, and could easily persuade Fundy to join his side. Quackity has power over Dream at this time in the plot, and is using it to gain knowledge about revival. He could use his acquired learning from Dream to make a deal with Fundy through using Wilbur’s revival to appease his interest (and provide a chance at healing, given his tough past). Not to mention his cameo at the end of Fundy’s lore stream-- There’s plenty more involvement in the lore that we are going to see from Q.

The Mysterious Figure

During the final dream sequence of Fundy’s lore stream, he opens the door to his tower, only to see a dark figure, staring into the world… or rather, the absence thereof. This Figure has no other significant character details besides the black hood/cloak and no ign, so we have no evidence as to who it is. I’ve seen plenty of people theorize that this person could be BBH (because of the similarities in cloak design) or they could be the “he” Fundy’s logs are warning him about. But I disagree-- I strongly believe that this mysterious figure is neither of those options, rather, The Mysterious Figure is someone completely separate in this story. Here are a few people I think it could be:

Wilbur/Schlatt-- both of whom are dead, and could manifest inside Fundy’s mind as spirits or ghosts.

Dream-- he causes paranoia in many of the younger characters of the SMP, so I wouldn’t put it past him to haunt Fundy like he did Ranboo (the voice in his head).

Fundy-- a form of himself from the future, or a representation of his conscience (wants, desires, etc).

Or a guide/protector to Fundy’s mind-- we could see more of this figure if episodes like this stream occur in the future. A character similar to that of the Inbetween or Other Side.

It is important to note that at the end of the sequence, the Mysterious Figure chased Fundy up the tower in fear, causing him to sleep and escape the dream world. I think Fundy would only react this way if he felt directly threatened, so this figure is likely someone unknown and intimidating, or familiar and repulsive enough to cause behaviour akin to a sort of PTSD. It is possible that this figure doesn’t have malicious intent, because there was a bed placed on top of Fundy’s tower. The figure was likely supposed to guide Fundy to this bed to escape the dream world, but this encounter probably did not go according to plan, due to Fundy’s reaction.

His Internal Monologue

Through the presence of fear and doubt we can learn about the deeper parts and truths of a character. This is the case with Fundy: while he is distressed and afraid in his dream world, through the provided angst we learn about what Fundy truly wants. Fundy states that he wants this dream to end, and he wants to go back to his friends and his old life. He longs for the times where he can just have fun again and prank people, when his friends were there for him. Except, sometimes they weren’t. He states he would join parties and join groups only to watch them disappear as he started to get attached to them. Now, whenever the word “attachment” is uttered anywhere I immediately think back to Dream’s speech, perhaps Fundy is becoming more aware of what he could be endangered by.

Deja Reve

There’s no theory attached to this, just some super cool stuff I found. :)

The reveal of Fundy’s powers instantly set off a flag in my mind the second I heard it. His “powerset” or ability is one of foreshadowing, whatever he dreams about, could happen or is linked to the future. Now, the reason I bring this up is partly because I think it is cool, and it is actually a REAL thing. And I’ve experienced it. Let me introduce you to Deja Reve.

Deja Reve isn’t really a condition or illness, rather it is a “creepier” form of its more popular counterpart, Deja Vu. When translated directly from French, Deja Reve means “already dreamed.” This word is a descriptor for a specific sequence of events: you dream something, and it happens later, in real life. No, I’m not making this up, and yes, it is real. I’ve had this happen to me multiple times.

Deja Reve isn’t so simple as “i dreamt this so it will happen tomorrow”. In my case, I would have a particular dream, for example, I went to a Subway with my mom and she discussed with the manager about having my sister work at that location. The morning after I would forget the dream like any other, but many weeks later the exact event I dreamt would happen. I can remember it now, right down to the sandwich I ordered and the way my mom moved across the establishment to talk to the manager-- it was word for word, vision for vision. Each time Deja Reve occurs, I freeze, and I think I’m experiencing a second copy of life, or rewatching a movie. It's super weird, but cool. If something like this has ever happened to you, leave a comment below, I’d love to hear your experiences!

Now I bring this up because many people mistake these sorts of things as having foresight or being able to prophesize-- but it's not the same thing. Deja Reve occurs more often in the younger population, and becomes less and less active as one gets older. Because Fundy is still relatively young in the SMP timeline, I think that not only is this a cool ability set for him to have, but it makes sense for him psychologically as well. There is no clear cause or reason behind why individuals experience Deja Reve, but personally, I believe it has to do with the condition of your brain and it’s experiences to past trauma. Kids who experience trauma find elaborate ways to cope, and usually defer to their imagination. Due to the fact that most of Fundy’s trauma occurred while he was very young in the SMP lore, it is definitely plausible that his amplified, or “more woke” application of Deja Reve, is a product of his past.

Number Symbolism

I’ll keep this section short, because this post is already miles long, but similar to the previous section, this is something SUPER COOL that I noticed :]

Each book that Fundy reads has a specific number of pages… haha big whoop, Biz, that’s not weird. But did you know that some numbers have symbolism? Did you notice that the 3 books in each dream sequence each had 87 pages, which symbolize family, organization, and idealism? That number symbolizes what Fundy WANTS, but also what he’ll never get if he’s not careful. The first two times he read that book he didn’t finish it… He didn’t achieve his goal?

Did you also notice that the signed book had 22 pages? That number symbolizes redemption, intuition, emotions, duty and diplomacy-- qualities that oddly correlate to warnings. This number represents what Fundy will NEED to be, in order to survive his future. Also, a Catch 22… take that as you will ;)

Sidenote…

Ok this is the last mini section before the end, but another thing that immediately popped into my head during Fundy’s lore was the factor of derealization. Nothing major, but the other times we’ve seen this storytelling or manipulation technique used was during...

Ranboo’s Panic Room / Prison Visit-- believes derealization

Karl and escaping the In Between-- fights against derealization

Fundy’s notebooks-- questions derealization

I have a feeling that whenever derealization is being used, it’s intended to distract the character from the true evil, to prevent them from tracking their own course or fulfilling their own story… So I’ll be excited to see where Fundy takes his.

GAAAAAAAAAH IT’S DONE, FINALLY. And Congratulations! You made it to the end!! If you have any thoughts or theories, comment below, shoot me an ask or DM, I’d love to discuss with you! Follow me for more in-depth analysis content, I will be doing as many of these as I feel inspired to do in the future. :]

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING <3

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typewriterghcst · 3 years

Text

Title: mother, forget me

Fandom: Kung Fu Panda

Characters: Shen, Soothsayer

Summary: He’s lived his life in a burning house, and now he is wasting away inside it. Why should he be at all surprised that she would fight the flames to traverse back into it in order to rescue him? At this rate, though, perhaps they’re simply burning to ash together.

Notes: whispers kind of an affectionate maybe Send Off written for @infini-tree regarding our Shen and Soothsayer muses, since we’ve both sorta halfway-ish moved into different fandoms and don’t write together very often anymore `~`

So of course this is based on the main verse on my Shen blog, where he Somehow survives the end of his canon and starts hiding out at the Soothsayer’s home like a particularly deviant NEET

I’ve long enjoyed our interactions, and even if we don’t write together again, I’ll still think back fondly on those interactions, ha. So. Just sort of a gift, then!

+++

Shen forgets he is no longer a skittish, sullen teenager sometimes, though he isn’t certain how. There’s an aching stiffness in his bones that has followed him into his miraculous second chance survival which had never assailed him back then. He lives now in a dream world where time stands still at inopportune and awkward moments, only to pass in an instant when he blinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s lingered here. He can not force himself to think of the future; it’s like futilely plucking at a minuscule piece of shell in the egg white.

Yet unlike those dream worlds he remembers from his childhood, he is not alone this time. No, he has become someone’s burden again, and he might relish in that newfound purpose were it not for who it is that has undertaken the burden.

The Soothsayer joins him at the window, once, and leaves a thin jacket of her own thrown across his shoulders, and it’s then he realizes he isn’t sure who has imprisoned who.

It’s then, also, he thinks he should leave.

+++

Quite often he will find himself reluctant to ask those questions he so dearly covets answers for, simply out of a fear that those same answers shall prove ultimately devastating. Tonight, his courage refuses to falter.

"Did you know?" Shen asks his old caretaker (a position she's rather wordlessly slipped back into, though he will not dwell on the similarities now). "Did you know I'd do it?"

"I knew you had the potential to travel down a very dark path," she eventually answers with a measured cadence, and Shen fills in the blanks that she hadn't foreseen just how much darkness that path had had the capacity for.

+++

He had tried to promise himself once, in a fleeting, blinding instant of childish fury, the source of which has been long obscured by time.

He had tried to promise himself that anyone who tried to harm her would meet with an agonizing fate, and he had taken a certain amount of comfort and pleasure in imagining just how he might make good on that promise.

He thinks of it nowadays sometimes when she leaves early in the morning, when he pretends to sleep so she doesn’t know he knows he wasn’t the only one unable to sleep through the night.

(They are both such prideful creatures.)

He thinks about how he is in a far more convenient position to keep his word now, how he would not hesitate, and he wonders if that is perhaps the closest he will ever come to real love.

+++

What will he do, he wonders sometimes against his will, when she is gone? He has but one friend left in the wide, blue world, and being a creature quite comfortably accustomed to a literal army of supporters kept in line with fear, the instability inherent in this new status quo is perhaps more distressing than even he realizes.

Shen spies the Soothsayer drifting off at her table as she works once or twice, and it lights in him a difficult to define, frenzied knot of half-emotions. He makes mention of her fatigue once. Her response, he assumes, is to put more effort into keeping up her composure in his presence, as he doesn’t catch her dozing again.

It isn't fair, it isn't fair, and sometimes he's so frustrated by what he’s managed to do how things have ended up that he can't stand it. It's then, again, that he thinks he should leave.

+++

He doesn't know her story. Somehow in all their years together, interrupted as they've been, she has never been compelled to share it with him. It's fine that way. It's the way it ought to be, he supposes.

Yet, every now and again, he will glimpse some shared similarity, some shared response to a petty trauma, and for the first time find himself musing on what other familiarities might linger in their pasts.

+++

Even now, the memory will so often come back to him, unwanted, unprompted. Pulling himself up over a balustrade in a clumsy attempt to see over it, to catch a faraway glimpse of Mother, needling curiosity and awe always tempered so expertly by the lingering haze of unbelonging.

For so long he has recalled this moment as one of solitude and numb resentment, but like a buoyant balloon eventually resurfacing after being shoved under bathwater, he remembers the Soothsayer calling to him from down the hall, and how he'd so eagerly abandoned his hiding spot to bound to her side. She had smiled at him, had asked what it was which had captured his attention so thoroughly.

And something rises in him, then, a sharp stab of remorse so powerful it aches in a way he’d never thought possible.

If only. If only.

+++

Too often she approaches his occasional fleeting tantrums with nothing more than mutely exasperated resignation, her hooves folded neatly on the top of her cane as she surveys the petty devastation he's left behind— an upended side table, scattered incense and old, singed bowls now lying in disarray.

"Was it unworthy of me?" She eventually asks flatly, and Shen barks out a harsh laugh despite himself.

“Yes,” he says, with an unhinged lightness he hasn’t felt in decades. “It should be better. It should be ornately and ostentatiously decorated and well-constructed enough to last literal dynasties. Then it’d be a worthy addition to your meager collection of furniture.”

There she smiles at him, familiarly, a half-crooked one that speaks to decade’s worth of dealing with his childish temper. He’d seen it, too, all that time ago, in the feverish and sleep-deprived days of his biggest scheme, but at the time it’d only infuriated him, made him feel intrinsically small. Here, now, the sight of it elicits a wash of comfort to come over him, and tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

He laughs, but the sound is thick with emotion, and he flees shortly after.

+++

"I should leave."

He speaks it into existence with all the strength of a flickering candle, hoping it might pass by unnoticed, perhaps. Yet like a candle in a darkened room, this hushed murmur's reach in the silence of the midnight stillness betrays him.

The clatter of the Soothsayer’s pestle somewhere across the expanse between them tells him she’s heard him. When she speaks, it’s soft but reluctant.

“...Where will you go?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to leave.”

“But I should.”

She doesn’t respond to that, but he can feel that she wants to. He can imagine her when he closes his eyes, searching desperately for something to make this all alright. To make it work for the best. Something that makes it not so hopeless. But she’s smart, he knows. She’ll come to the same conclusion. If she hasn’t already.

Somewhere, there comes that same memory of running to her side, taking her outstretched hoof in his wing, already starting in on some inane factoid he’d picked up in his studies that day, eager to share with her his discoveries.

"I-I'm sorry."

It slips away from him without his approval, before he has a chance to stifle and drown it with any kind of success, and it comes out as a broken whisper. His vision as he stares out the window has started swimming. Some part of him wishes it was because he has begun breathing his last breaths.

Even now, he remains selfish and weak— were he truly so sorry, he thinks, he would have simply disappeared from her life in the night, with only a letter to explain his thoughts; he would have vanished just as unceremoniously as he had arrived, and left her in peace.

But he had done that once, he remembers abruptly.

I thought you died. It comes back to him in pieces.

And now he knows what he is apologizing for. There’s no one left to blame it all on. There is only him. And now for the first time does he feel so thoroughly where he has ruined himself with his own hands only to have pointed the bloodied finger outward to everyone else.

This is a mistake which can not be mended, and he’s known it all along.

Somewhere in the midst of it all he’s aware of a ginger touch to his wing. It’s the Soothsayer, looking up at him with an expression he finds quite difficult to interpret— the furrowed brow of regret, of heartache, but the quirk of hesitant hopefulness. When she speaks, her voice is just as frustratingly troublesome for him to comprehend, soft and sad and vastly unfitting for the words she has decided upon.

“...I’ve wanted to hear you say that for a long time.”

“It’s not enough—” Shen starts, and he can already hear the beginnings of his old hysteria rising in his protest, can feel his age-old pessimism awakening, but the gentle shake of her head in apparent, paradoxical agreement prompts him to hold his tongue.

“No. It’s not.” Then, more firmly, with a tenacity he finds quite startling in its unexpected familiarity, “But it’s a beginning we can work with.”

#kung fu panda #idk if this is a normal thing people do i'm so sorry if this is Really Weird 9^9;;#the soothsayer and shen will probably Hurt me forever so i had to write something fjjfkd;a #i listened to iron and wine's upward over the mountain like way too much while writing this

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theangryjikooker · 2 years

Note

Yes, Sungwoon said he met Jimin through Suga, they hit it off and became close friends. I don't know how close Suga and Sungwoon are, never heard of them hanging out and stuff. But Jimin and Sungwoon are good friends. I don't see Suga introducing a person he knows to another member as huge. Pretty polite thing to do. But we never saw/heard of the 3 hanging out together. But with JK and Jm, Jk is seen with Jimin's close circle of friends... not just celeb but non celeb friends too. And Jm, in his own words, doesn't share friends. So here Jm seems open sharing his close circle of friends with JK, and Jk is open to meeting and hanging out with Jm's close friends. Haven't seen/heard of this with other members. Not saying it means anything, but it's interesting.

More information from a contributor.

The only thing I'll add is that even though Jimin once said he doesn't share friends, it doesn't mean that that's still how he feels, so I find that factoid irrelevant in this context. I generally don't agree with people passing off something Bangtan said in the past as a current fact. That's not to say he doesn't still feel that way, but he hasn't mentioned it since then that I know of.

Let's all remember that just because the boys were one way even two, three, however many years ago doesn't mean they're the same people now with the same feelings.

I've found that a lot of shippers get hung up on old facts, and when current events don't align with what the boys have said x number of years ago, feelings start short circuiting.

#TAJ asks #anon submission #park jimin #jimin #bts #bangtan #bts fandom

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weepingaesthetic · 3 years

Text

Orenda

Pairing: Dabi x reader

AU: Adult Verse

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Romance

Rating: NSFW

Warning: Drug use, swearing

Notes: Orenda is a mature fanfic that takes place in the characters adult years. Characters have been aged up (20+). There will be cursing, drug-use, extreme violence, explicit content, mentions of death and abuse. I don’t do clean versions but I will put a line where you can skip explicit scenes if it makes you uncomfortable. :) All content will be on my Masterlist. Enjoy~

Words: 2050+

Masterlist

Orenda:

An internal summoning of personal strength to change fate. The courage to love someone against the obstacles life has set before you.

You’re a hacker helping a villain. He gets the information from you and stays when it’s convenient. There’s no room for feelings, right?

Solivagent

Solivagent: someone who wanders the world by themselves; a solitary adventurer.

You lit another cigarette from the pack that was thinning as quick as your patience, foot tapping on the carpet on the floor below you, frustration growing with each passing minute. He was late. You wondered what excuse he’s come up with this time, already thinking of what you’d say to each one.

‘Villains run by their own clock’

‘So do I, pretty boy you ain’t special’

‘I got caught up with work’

‘And you’re inhibiting me from continuing mine, show up on time or quit asking for my help.’

Maybe he’d been held up by a hero. Maybe he’d been slower due to patrol hours, or gotten caught up in another pointless argument with Shigaraki. The only excuse you would even pass by as acceptable is if he came stumbling in your front door bleeding, but even then you would probably only scoff at him.

‘What’d you do this time?’ before patching him up and offering him tea. Those encounters only happened rarely, thankfully for your heart. Not that you would ever tell him you worried for him. Not that he ever would accept you did.

The two of you never talked about your lives outside of what was necessary. He came in for hacking jobs and what little first aid you could offer from time to time and the pay was nice. You couldn’t deny that throwing the so called “heroes” for a loop and ending their plans was enjoyable either. The deal you had was simple and fulfilling in more ways than one.

So when he stumbled into your apartment in fury, cold blue eyes slicing into yours in mock amusement, you raised an eyebrow at him in a challenge. Whatever he had to say better be good if he was looking at you like that. Especially half an hour late.

“You want to explain why you almost broke my door off the hinges?” Your voice was smooth, calculated, dragging another hit from the cancer stick in your hand while you waited for what better be the best damn explanation of his life.

“You want to explain how a group of Heroes knew where our base was?”

Your eyes squinted at the accusatory tone, crossing your legs over each other tightly to hide your anger. He thought you had anything to do with them?

“You have ten seconds to explain why you think I’d work with those insufferable ass hats before I kick you out and burn the documents you had me find.” Calm, cool, collected, and definitely not about to claw your way to his heart. The nerve-

“You’re the only person who knew outside of the league, doll face. Makes you look pretty suspicious.” His smirk portrayed amusement but his eyes were cold. You knew the hands he had shoved in the pockets of his trench coat were clenched. You could smell the wood smell from his quirk, barely activated enough that it was heating up the room.

You glared at him, eyes shinning their vivid green as you activated your quirk in retaliation. “If I wanted them to find you I would’ve done it months ago. They’ve made some pretty high value offers and I’ve always declined, not to mention texted and told you they were after the hideout. Pretty sure I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with them and was helping you because I didn’t. So either drop the insecurities and accusatorial bullshit and come get this folder or I’m kicking you into the next goddamn planet.”

If anyone else had talked to him like that, they would probably be burned to a crisp, yet here you were. Looking down your nose at the man threateningly while he sized you up for any indication that you were lying. You didn’t know if your were stupidly overly cocky or lived on death wishes.

He eventually relaxed, shoving his hand through his hair in irritation. He walked toward you and slumped himself in the chair opposite of your desk. He held out a hand and you gave him what was left of your cigarette. You waited till he had a full lung fulls in before speaking.

“If my door is broke, I’m coming for your kneecaps.”

He smirked at that, this one actually holding amusement as he looked at you. “Finally admitting you’re too short to reach anything else?”

“Finally realizing you’re a Titan?” You raised an eyebrow at him in a glare that had no ill will behind it. Sitting at five foot two, he was over half of a foot taller than you. You barely coming up to the top of his chest always striked amusement in him.

“Nothing small about me doll, didn’t need you to realize it.” He winked at you and you scoffed.

“They say the braggers are the biggest let downs.”

“Stating the obvious, sweetheart.”

You bantered with him easily, tension diffusing and neither of you keen to bring up why he was so riled up. You knew he had trust issues and he knew you didn’t take any bullshit. As far as the two of you were aware, it was already in the past. A misunderstanding of emotions.

“You still want this packet so you can leave or you want tea and a place to crash till the new base is set up? Take it with the base being infiltrated you all are scattered for a bit.”

He shrugged, snuffing out the cigarette in his fingers when it got to the filter. “Shigaraki has an emergency meet up in place.”

You looked up from the monitor back at him for a second before continuing with the code you were working on.

“Offer still stands. Couch is a lot better than some dusty, cold floor.” The thought of him shivering and toughing it out bothered you, but you couldn’t place why. He had done it plenty of times before he met you without complaint.

“Can’t argue with that.”

“I’ll start the tea then. Chamomile and milk like usual?” You got up from your chair, stretching a bit.

“Yeah.”

Learning the man in front of you preferred tea when he wasn’t drinking liquor had been a surprise to you the first time he took a cup you made, with full protest from you. He never asked, but he always found a way to get some from you after whether you offered or not. You weren’t complaining, but the factoid had you scrunching your eyebrows in confusion at the revelation for weeks. Definitely not someone you would pin as a tea drinker.

You hummed as you set the kettle on the stove to boil, throwing the blanket and pillow you kept in the closet for him on the pullout couch. When you walked back he already had another stick in his hand, inhaling the smoke slowly. You rolled your eyes, looking over at your near empty pack. You’d have to go to a convenience store soon.

“Thief. Don’t you have your own?”

“Yours are better.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly as you passed him. “Didn’t take you for a cheapskate.”

“A lot of things you don’t know about me, doll.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “That an invitation?”

“A warning.” His head was laid against the back of the chair, his face out of view for you to read his expression.

You hummed in response, eyes gluing back to the screen in hopes of a breakthrough. It’d been hours and the wall kept rerouting you through the code. It was changing its firewall on its own. The realization had you gritting your teeth in annoyance. This was going to take longer than you thought.

“New job?” The question was easy, impersonal, something to fill the void with small talk. The normalcy of it had you both relaxing and sighing out your disappointment. Disappointment in what, you couldn’t place. Maybe that he wasn’t opening up to you? You almost snorted at your thoughts. As if he ever would. You knew that. You two were only in this situation because it benefited you both. At least that’s what you reminded yourself.

“Hm.” You glanced up from the screen at him, “Twice called asking for a firewall breach. These bastards have one that rewrites itself when it detects a hack. So it’s been giving me a headache. They’re good, I’ll give them that.”

He looked at you in amusement. “Admitting defeat?”

You laughed, your pride rearing up like a proud peacock. “As if. Just going to take longer than anticipated.”

Maybe if you would’ve looked up in the few moments of silence you would’ve seen the admiration on his face, instead of the cocky façade you were used to. Maybe it would’ve finally registered in your head that this exchange was more than just ‘benefits and agreements’ for him, but you were too zoned in to your work to notice.

The kettle whistling brought you back to the present, his usual mask back in place. You stood up, making your way into the kitchen to take it off the burner, Dabi not far behind you. You took what he had claimed as his cup, a Viking styled mug, from the shelf and poured the water over the tea bag letting it sit as he grabbed the milk.

“Shigaraki wants you to come stay with the League.” No sugar coat and blunt. You rolled your eyes.

“He knows I prefer my own space. I’m a hacker, I don’t fight. I’m assuming you’re saying want loosely.”

His lips curled into a smile filled with mischief. “Demanded is more fitting. I told him he had a better chance of convincing All Might to a dinner date.”

You laughed at that, removing the tea bag to hand him his cup.

“You’re not wrong.”

You watched his eyes flit over to the couch before they landed back on you.

“If you’re tired, you can go ahead and sleep. I’ll just be working anyway.” You misread the frown he gave you as exhaustion. He looked like he wanted to say something before shaking his head, taking a long drink from his cup.

“Yeah. Night Ace.” You smiled at the nickname.

“Night burnt chicken nugget.” He snorted at you and you walked past him back to the computer.

The sounds of typing filled the room along with his soft breathing long enough you thought he fell asleep. When his voice cut through the silence you had to fight the mild jump of start.

“When was the last time you slept?”

You flicked your gaze over to him. “I had a twenty minute power nap yesterday.”

His blue eyes cut sharply to yours under the mound of blanket, irritation clear on his face. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You sighed, rubbing your hands down your face. “Five days ago.”

He tsked at you. “Come here.”

You shook your head slowly, already glued back to the screen as the code ran, cursing when it was blocked again. “Dabi-”

“It wasn’t a suggestion.”

Your eyes cut back to him, huffing as you got up. You walked over to him mirroring his own irritation. “What? It better be good if-”

You were cut off as he grabbed you, pulling you under the covers with him, despite your protests.

“Just shut up and sleep. Last thing I need is you going comatose for days cause you drained the shit of yourself.”

You flushed, eyes meeting his chest in the position he had you. This was impersonal, he just didn’t want to deal with your crashes.

“I have my own bed.”

You felt the rumble in his chest as he laughed. “This is to ensure you don’t try to work and actually get some sleep.”

“I have more important things to do than sleep.” You tried to argue but you could already feel your eyelids drooping. He was too warm and comfortable for his own good.

“I do have a fire quirk.” You could practically hear the grin in his voice.

You squeaked in embarrassment that you’d said that aloud, his chuckles only getting louder.

He ran his hands through your hair and pulled your head under his chin, sighing softly. “Just do us both a favour and fucking sleep.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the closeness and you scolded your heart for beating so fast. This means nothing, so why is it causing these reactions?

You felt yourself drifting off, not before feeling his lips against your head in some dream you’d convinced yourself of.

“Goodnight, Ace.”

You were far too gone to answer.

#bnha dabi #dabi #dabi x reader #hacker #slight angst #slow burn #fluff and romance #a couple of dumbasses #mha #bnha

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