#There’s less pressure for them to be good
Note
Aww I love that you write for Kiba! He really doesn't get enough love so thank you! Can I please request headcannons for married and family life with Kiba, Kakashi, Gaara and Neji (with female reader)? Like being married and having children with them? They're my favourites and you write them so, so well. I hope that request is alright, please don't feel pressured to write it if you don't want to. I hope your week is amazing 🫶🏻
author's note: Kiba was one of my first fictional crushes and I totally agree he doesn't get enough love! Thank you so much for this beautiful request! I really hope you enjoy and that so far your week has been good! <3
➤ Kiba
Kiba as a husband is everything but boring!
During the first year or two, marriage would feel just like your relationship before that - laid back, chill and maybe a bit immature.
He is an amazing partner - he is very affectionate, never fails to make you smile and loves to surprise you.
However, when it comes to taking care of himself, he is like a big baby - I don't really see him doing any chores in the beginning of your relationship and even when he tries, more often than not he either burn or flood the kitchen.
Maybe it was fate or karma of some sorts, but I totally see you with twins or triplets!
If you thought life was crazy, wait till your house is full with hyperactive, unpredictable and loud Inuzukas.
Surprisingly, Kiba actually enjoy his role as a dad - probably because they all take after his personality, and tries to spend as much time with you and the children as possible.
Every time he has a free day, he organises a "family fun day" - more often than not, it is not that fun for you, as you have to run or yell after them to be careful while running/swimming/climbing etc.
While he would never get too much into housework, he will try to help around the house as much as he can, especially once you get back to work. (also, wouldn't do a good job and you would have to clean after his cleaning all the time, but it is the enthusiasm that counts!)
His attitude towards you would remain the same - he is just as in love with you as he was as a teenager, constantly trying to flirt with you with cheesy pick-up lines and smack your bum when you least expect it.
With multiple children, you probably won't have a lot of opportunities for spend time alone or go on dates, but you are both quite comfortable with your chaotic life.
He is definitely the laid-back and fun parent. Sorry, but you are going to have to be the "bad cop" - he can just bring himself to scold or punish your children.
He would often team up with them in order to prank you or his mother. Also, every bad word they learn by the age of six, is definitely his fault. (But hey, is it his fault they can remember every slip up?)
Kiba absolutely wants more children, so you better brace yourself, because I totally see you with another set of twins/triplets... it's these Inuzuka genes, what can I say!
➤ Kakashi
Surprisingly (or not so much since we are talking about Kakashi) your two children came before you got married.
You have been together for years and it worked perfectly, so what would a ring and a signature on a paper change? In the beginning, both of you were of the opinion "why fix something if it isn't broken?" and none of you see the point in marriage.
More or less, you were already acting as spouses - you tried to equally divide the household chores, but since he was working most of the time, you naturally took the role of the carer of the house, while he was the provider.
Once your first child was born, however, Kakashi started to seriously think of a change.
Since being a child, his life has been filled with battles, blood and loss - and he surely did not want for these things to be present in your baby's life.
However, change was hard and while he tortured his mind with ideas about how much happier you are going to be if both of you give up the shinobi life and move somewhere far, far away, he never voiced his thoughts out loud to you.
Kakashi is a very calm and loving dad - it almost come naturally to him, but you would notice something was bothering him, since as a partner he acted a bit more withdrawn.
When your second child was born, this is when he knew for sure he has to step down as a Hokage and retire from the ninja lifestyle once and for all. I imagine at this point, with two kids at home, you were retired as a shinobi.
When he brought the idea of moving in the outskirts of the village, he didn't expect for you to agree so quickly. You knew Kakashi for years, even before you got together, so you knew he really needed this break and detachment in the name of your family.
Once he left the position as a leader of the village, he focused 100% of his attention on you and your children - your oldest was a toddler by that time and while he felt sad because he felt like he missed the first two years of their life, he tried to enjoy every moment and stay grounded in the present.
He also finally decide it is time to propose and make you officially Mrs. Hatake - everything in your life was slowly falling into place and this felt like the only thing missing. (I imagine a small ceremony with both of your children as flower girls/page boys.)
Kakashi as a husband is the same as he was before that - loving, gentle, romantic, sometimes lazy, yet always attentive. The only difference is that he is even more relaxed and probably would pick up a random hobby such as gardening or maybe even writing?
Your have a very idyllic and peaceful life with him, and you wouldn't change it for anything in the world.
➤ Gaara
Married life with Gaara is hard in the beginning.
His work has been his whole life since he was a teenager, so when you finally tied the knot and, a few months later, welcomed your first child, he didn't know how to handle it.
He tried to juggle his job and his new role as a husband and father without any help for the first six months, but failed miserably.
The long hours he spend in the office definitely affected your relationship, especially since you are the one who had to give up your career in order to stay at home and take care of the baby.
There will be a rough period of time during you will be either ignoring each other or fighting with each other. Each of you will be upset, frustrated and annoyed with the other, but will not know how to fix things.
Don't get it wrong - this man loves you to death, but this is all new to him too! And it is especially stressful, since he never had a proper functioning family anyway.
Eventually, one night after another fight, you will sit down on the floor and share (or more likely scream at him) all the pent up frustration and worries you had been keeping inside.
From that moment everything changes.
Gaara would realise he needs to spend more time with his family, so he will probably promote Kankuro to a "shadow Kazekage" or any other title, under which he can replace him in the office some days of the week.
You start communicating more and soon fall in a natural rhythm - he is definitely a man that likes to do everything 50-50 with you, including care of the baby and household chores.
A very gentle and attentive husband - he always listen to your advice and tries his best to keep the spark between you by organising surprise getaway weekends for both of you every so often or by bringing you flowers/gifts when he comes home from work.
I would imagine given his position, he would try to influence to remain at home - he has always been worried about your safety and the potential risk of his enemies targeting you, but since you were now also the mother of his child, his worry slowly turned into a paranoia.
He will respect your decision no matter what, but if you decide to go back to work at some point - he will forget his morals and will abuse his role as a Kazekage in order to arrange some extra security to be around you at all times.
I feel like he will be a very calm dad in the beginning, but the more his children grew, the more nervous he became - babies are easy to manage, but toddlers? Pre-teens? Oh, Kami!
Naturally, he is very anxious about his performance as a parent, so please provide him reassurance every now and then, just so you can ease his mind!
Nevertheless, he is great with your child and they absolutely adore him. If you had a girl, she will totally be daddy's girl. If you had a boy, he would dream one day to grow up like Gaara.
I totally see you guys adopting some family traditions like Sunday dinner, "come-with-dad-to-work" Thursdays or book Fridays.
Gaara is going to be satisfied with one child, two at most (only if they have at least five years difference).
➤ Neji
Neji was made to be a father and a husband!
Raised in a very traditional family, he has been dreaming about becoming a husband and father pretty much from the moment you got together.
I think you would be married for about a year, before your first child is born, during which you will get you own house in the Hyuga compound, arrange its interior and enjoy your life as newlywed couple.
He will never command you or restrict your freedom in any way, but he will definitely influence a lot of your decisions.
For starters, it is expected that you will stop working and become a housewife, as any other woman married into the clan has done before.
I feel Neji loves you enough to respect your wishes if you decide not to do it, but he will still insist being the main provider for your family. (Do not resist him on this one, it is quite important for him!)
That doesn't mean he won't help around the household, especially after your child is born - he is actually very, very good cook and will take care of your dinners at least a few times per week.
As a father, I imagine he is very caring and loving, but will become more strict as they start to grow older. He values fairness and order a lot, so it will for sure reflect in his parenting style.
Your child absolutely adores him though - Neji is definitely their role model and the best teacher. You, on the other hand, will be the more laid-back parent, using any chance to spoil them or treat them with some extra sweets/toys behind Neji's back.
Neji is very confident as a parent, so he won't really have any worries about how you are raising your little one. What worries him, however, is how much less time you are both spending together.
I think once your child reach toddler age, he would start declining more and more missions, so he can stay at home. I also imagine that seeing his growth and commitment to the family, Hiashi would involve him in the leadership of the clan.
He will still find time to organise little dates just for both of you or late midnight walks, when you can enjoy only each other's company.
He would grow more serious and less fun with time, but given how much responsibilities he how stressful his life is, you would try and support him in every decision he makes (even when you are not fully convinced by his reasoning).
Your love would blossom from fun and carefree to mature and responsible. (& tbh I think that is absolutely beautiful!)
Both of you want at least one more child, so I imagine you would get pregnant a two or three years after you gave birth to your first born.
cc artwork: Daniel Clarke
#kiba inuzuka#kiba x reader#kakashi hatake#kakashi x reader#sabaku no gaara#gaara x reader#neji hyuga#neji x reader#naruto imagines#naruto headcanons
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Pizza delivery girl
higuruma hiromi x reader fic, a bit of smut content (nothing extreme, only kissing, touching and inappropriate dialogues). 🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞
wc: 3,390
Big thanks to my @teatreeoilll for correct spelling and supporting me the entire time. You're the best 💕 This fic would never have been written without you!
He doesn’t even like pizza.
And yet every time he has to do overtime in the dull room he calls an office, all while working cases and overwhelming his mind to the point where he just wants to see the bed, he finds himself thinking of you - the pizza delivery girl - and wondering if he should order another damn pizza. You slip to his mind unannounced once the tiredness takes over and his brain needs stimulation.
Higuruma Hiromi never took himself for a daydreamer, but here he is - imagining scenarios that will never happen with a woman he barely knows.
Ding dong!
Hiromi feels his co-workers' eyes on him when he gets up from his desk, their gazes follow him all the way to the door. As he walks there’s a new spring in his step. It's that time of day.
He opens the door and sees you, the woman who rules his irrational side. You smile at him, freckles clear on your fair skin.
“We meet again,” Hiromi welcomes you, looking at your peach colored hoodie with a print on it that he assumes is the cover of some band’s album.
“I’m starting to think that there’s hidden reason you order from the same place almost every day,” you point out with a smirk. Hiromi likes the way your voice changed over the last few meetings - how it became partly coy and… seductive.
“Well, I'm starting to wonder what are the odds that you're always the one who delivers my orders,” he bites back.
Your smile deepens and with slight shrug you mutter, “Touché.” You hand him over the pizza. “But don’t jump to conclusions. I’m just worried about you”— and your voice lowers to a whisper as you lean closer—“a little birdie told me you’re living here, Higuruma-san.”
Hiromi enjoys the softness in your voice, but for the love of God, don't use this tone when you say his name. You straighten up with a contented smile when you notice him swallow.
“You’re looking more tired every day,” you admit.
It’s not that you're innocent in all this.
“Nothing gets past you, does it?” As you nod the brown hair in your pigtail sways.
“You should take care of yourself before helping others.”
“Tough case,” he tries to shrug it off.
“Yeah, I heard.” Hiromi looks up to see genuine concern in your eyes. Before he can ask, you continue, “I read the papers. You did good job.”
Hiromi wants to say the case it’s far from over, but instead he decides not to; he accepts the compliment with a nod.
“Work goes better on a full stomach,” he says, raising the pizza box to light up the mood. You snort and bite your lower lip.
“Well I’m sure it could go even better if you relieved the pressure here and there.” You massage your shoulders and move them as if you were exhausted. You catch Hiromi a bit off guard with that.
“Well, I”—He rubs his hand over his two-day stubble—“Heh…” He smiles and can’t force himself to look you into eyes, feeling annoying heat spreading over his cheeks.
“No comeback, huh?” He hears you barely holding your laugher. Soon both of you laugh, more or less openly. For a moment Hiromi forgets he's at his office. The burden that weighed upon his mind lately suddenly becomes bearable.
“You know, I was wondering…” He scratches his cheek with a finger. His head is still full of doubts, but the timing feels so right that Hiromi gives in spontaneous impulse.
“About what?” you tilt your head.
“I—” “Excuse me, is this the defense attorney’s office?”
That’s not the right question.
For split of a second Hiromi doesn’t register the man appearing by your side. Then he notices a patch on the man's jacket with the symbol of the courier company.
“Yes, it is,” you say.
“Mr. Higuruma Hiromi?” The man asks and Hiromi confirms with a nod. His eyes are still on you, observing how you smile with what he hopes is some sort of disappointment. You shrug, then wave at him and finally turn away.
Hiromi watches over man’s shoulder how you go down the stairs. One last peek at your ass before the disappointment in his chest slowly builds up. He takes the package, closes the doors and comes back to his desk, too pensive to feel his co-worker's eyes on himself.
“Oh enough already!” Hiromi flinches at the woman's voice. It doesn’t happen often for her to be this angry, especially not at him and not about matters that aren’t work related.
“Why won’t you ask her out already?” She asks, crossing her hands over her chest.
If there’s one thing that Hiromi is grateful for, it’s definitely the ability to keep his cool in stressful situations. Professional habit.
“Why would I?” His voice is drier than when he was thanking the courier for his service.
His co-worker takes a deep breath, then asserts, “Because every time she turns her back you stare at her ass with those sad puppy eyes of yours.”
Is this how criminals feel when they speak to him through the glass windows in the visiting room? Because he definitely feels like one of them caught red-handed.
“There are no puppy eyes. And besides,” he pauses, lacking a counter-argument, “I don’t stare.” It takes one long skeptical gaze to break his façade. “Fine. But I wouldn’t call it staring.”
The co-worker raises her brows.
“Then how would you call it?”
“Admiring?” he mumbles, hoping she doesn’t hear it. His co-worker chuckles from behind her desk. He sighs as he looks at her, and puts the package and pizza box on his desk.
“I don’t think she would decline though.” It was naive of him to assume the conversation was over.
“Don't you have work to do?” He tries to separate himself from her by breaking the line of sight with a book. His tie starts to irritate him, but loosening it up means giving more opening to his co-worker so he lets it choke him.
He hears how her heels knock on the floor as she comes to his desk and lean over to reach the pizza box.
“It’s very unusual to see you like this. I’ve always thought you were a robot when it comes to your personal life,” she takes a piece of margarita.
Hiromi raises eyebrows. The book in his hands drops down.
“What's that supposed to mean?”
She shrugs.
“You know… very, hmm… economical?”
“Nice save,” he mumbles.
Economical was the last word Hiromi would have used describing his personal life. Not after wasting so much money for a food he never eats.
“So, are you going to ask her out?”
“No,” he says but sounds very disappointed. Damn courier.
“Why not?” She frown.
“It’s complicated—”
“Rubbish! You could sell me that crap at the beginning when the both of you were acting like teenagers. Now”— she snorts—“you basically flirt like normal people do on the third date!” she waves her hands, as if trying to convince an invisible witness. “Except you never went out once and it seems that the two of you would rather die than change that…”
His co-worker takes a bite and looks at him, but this time Hiromi’s facade doesn’t break that easy. He only shrugs.
“Ugh! What’s the matter with you?” she snaps at him. “Have made it a mission to complicate everything in your life?”
“Guilty,” he admits without a blink. There’s no point in denying this. “And you can’t do anything about it. We aren’t at court.”
Hiromi watches as she chew in silence.
“You can have all of it.” He moves the box towards her.
“I know,” she answers. “It isn’t the pizza that’s on your mind.” She takes the box and walks back to her desk. Hiromi knows what she's about to say before she opens her mouth, “But with that attitude you never gonna taste that in your lifespan.”
How vulgar…
Hiromi sits on the couch in his dull living room, with a glass in one hand and a remote in another. He flips through channels, staring at the TV without a hint of interest. When exactly did he become the person who comes back to home and has absolutely no idea what to do with himself? Everything feels like an empty time filler at this point.
Click, click, click…
Hiromi maintains a fast pace, his eyes on the screen, but mind barely present. Drama show, reality talk, an okonomiyaki advertisment… “Our national pizza!” Says a lady with her mouth full. Not the best marketing gimmick, he thinks. But yeah… He could go for a pizza. Today someone has interrupted his little tête-à-tête with you, but maybe it isn’t too late to fix it?
Before he can think it through, his hand reaches for the phone and opens the food app on its own. The pizzeria you work at is marked with a star as the only one in his favorites. Hiromi chooses a margarita, pays in advance, and hopes that your boss has forced you to work overtime today.
And then… what remains to be done? Just wait. But this time sitting in his dull living room doesn’t feel awfully boring. Hiromi finally finds a comfortable spot on his couch. He leans back and puts his feet up on the table, feeling strangely relaxed. As if he has found the missing piece of the puzzle. The advertising marathon has finishes and he watches the beginning of unknown romantic comedy. A pleasant drowsiness slowly befuddles him…
Knock knock!
Oh? Is it already time?
Hiromi gets up from the couch, his body feels dizzy at first but with each step towards the doors it gets more and more tense. Dozens of thoughts run through his head as his hand reaches for the door handle. Will that be you? What should he say? He haven’t thought of any opening line… Now, that’s the lawyer everybody needs, right?
Very slowly he presses down onto the handle and opens the door.
“Hello, your pizza- Oh! Hi, Higuruma-san! What a surprise!” Your expression changes from weary to genuinely happy; Hiromi feels your smile deep in his chest. “So you don’t really live in your office, huh?” You try to take a peek over his shoulder.
“I have to come here from time to time. Otherwise they will start imposing rent at my workplace,” he answers, shrugging.
Your whole chest trembles as you laugh, you have the same hoodie you had afternoon with faces of some band on it. Hiromi catches himself at staring for too long at your chest. It draws your attention.
“Do you like this band?” you ask, pulling the hoodie to stretch the fabric, which reveals a bit of your neckline.
Hiromi finally raises his eyes to meet yours.
“I don’t know them,” he says honestly and, given the cheerfulness in your eyes, you seem to be content with this answer.
“Ah, I see,” you slowly nod. “That’s not what interested you.”
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
He doesn’t feel too embarrassed when you smile like this at him. Maybe his sad puppy eyes come in handy…
“Now that I caught you red-handed I won’t feel bad telling you something like this -” You smirked, “Don’t be upset, but you don’t look like a guy who likes pizza.”
You would think, huh?
“That’s a bit judgmental,” Hiromi says with unusual sensitivity in his voice that immediately puts you in defensive mode.
“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” You raise your hand in apologetic gesture. “It’s just”—you eye him up and down—“I don’t know, I guess it’s the suit. It makes you look…”
“Pompous?” he slips watching you struggle to find the right word.
“No!” you quickly deny. Too quickly. “I mean… well, kinda.” You gave up.
“Ouch.”
Hiromi has never heard you giggle before, but he could definitely get used to it. He couldn’t explain the phenomenon that makes him seek for your reaction - any reactions, really - but the idea of closing the doors right now and not getting more out of you seemed awful.
“Do you ever take it off?” you ask pointing at his loosened tie and wrinkled dress shirt.
I could for you, he thinks to his own surprise.
“Well, I was waiting for the pizza,” he reminds.
“Right. Can’t collect your order in pyjamas.” And you laugh again, which causes a rush of heat in his belly and bellow. Cursed thoughts suddenly take him to very inappropriate places where you tell him about the band printed on your hoodie as you take it off. He wonders what color of bra you wear. The white one would suit you - in his modest opinion.
“You weren’t wrong though.” He breaks himself out of the trance. “I don’t like pizza." After all the orders he made for the past few weeks.
You blink at his words, definitely not as surprised as he thought you were going to be. In fact, your reaction tells him that you knew and have played along this entire time.
“Then why did you order so many of them?” you ask, a soft smile forming on your lips.
“I was ordering you,” he finds himself saying. The moment the first word left his lips, Hiromi felt in his guts it was a bad idea, but the rest of the sentence left his lips anyway, leaving sweet-sour flavor on the top of his tongue.
He watches your eyes widen for a second, and your lips part - then close - then open again as you try to say something back, but your mind can’t find the right words.
Well, this is it then…
A lonely “oh” slips quietly out of your mouth.
Oh?
“Well, you are my last stop today.” Your rosy cheeks rise up as you smile. “Why don’t you invite me in?”
For a moment the world stops.
“Are you sure?” The lower parts of Hiromi call him an idiot, but the lower parts have never been in charge. Biting his tongue wasn’t an option.
Sudden embarrassment takes over as you look sideways and as both of you wonder about the simple “should I or should I not?” You smile and Hiromi smiles as well.
“Do you think my boss can sue me once he finds out that I’ve made him lose a regular customer?” You break the silence. Hiromi watches at the corners of your lips twitch, then raises his eyes at yours.
“Why do you assume I won’t order any more pizza in the future?” You shrug.
“Why would you if you can just call me instead?”
“So you can have nice break at work,” he answers. This is enough to make you burst out laughing.
“I see you've thought everything through carefully.”
“I only try to keep you here as long as I can.”
You make a step towards him, standing on the threshold. Much, much, much closer than usually. Hiromi could smell your perfume, but he mostly focuses on the soft smile you give him.
“Well, can’t deny it isn’t working. Lemme in,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of his dress shirt as you speak.
Once Hiromi opens the doors wide for you to come in and you cross the threshold, letting the pizza box fall on the ground, making you giggle again. Hiromi presses you against the doors, his hands finally on your waists, fingers tightened to feel you under the fabric of hoodie.
You are the one who closes the gap between your lips. Your smell stupefies Hiromi as you kiss him without hesitation, shamelessly penetrating his mouth with your tongue. Your fingers slide right under his collar, slowly moving around his nape, tickling his skin and sending shivers down his spine. Hiromi feels dizzy from the excess of stimuli.
“Tell me about this band,” he says once you two break away to catch a breath.
“I know only one song…” you mutter, too focused on undoing buttons of his dress shirt to give the song name. “It was an accident. I spotted the hoodie on the sale. L—Liked the color. Later found out it’s them,” you babble.
The feeling of your fingers exploring his bare chest and belly is blend of disconcerting relief and irritation. He waited for this moment for so long that now, when he finally has you, the touch of fingers isn’t enough to meet his expectations.
You place a kiss on his chin but before you can reach higher, Hiromi’s mouth is on your neck. One hand wraps around your waists, pulling you closer to him, yet still not close enough in his opinion. He wishes he could absorb you. He wants to feel the heat coming from your skin and your heartbeat quickening.
The other hand finds your buttcheek and squeezes it hard. The moan that escapes your lips is like long-awaited music in his ear. Hiromi can’t help himself and bites your earlobe to get more reactions out of you. And when that stops being enough, he starts sucking your neck and giving you hickeys while his hands roam freely all over your body, finding their way under the hoodie.
Considering how your fingers have made big mess out of his haircut and how now they dig deep into his shoulders, he assumes he's doing a good job so far.
“These damn legs of yours,” he mumbles into your ear while lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around him.
Hiromi carries you to the couch where he takes off your hoodie together with the work uniform underneath it. Your sports bra is black, and nicely molds itself to your breasts. He can see your perky nipples through the fabric at which his erection grows larger.
You pull him towards you by tugging on his tie. Very soon your bra ends up on the floor as well when Hiromi places himself above you. The way he cups his hands around your breasts, squeezing your nipples between his thumbs and index fingers, puts your dirty needs to another level.
“I’ve been waited for so long to feel them,” Hiromi whispers right before your face, a hair's length away from touching your lips. His voice is so quiet you have a problem hearing him. “You’re blushing,” he notices, making you look away and mutter an embarrassed “shatap”.
“Better hurry up and suck them,” you pout at him, you have hard time talking at this point, your throat dry and voice distorted by hoarseness.
Hiromi’s smirk gets bigger.
“It’s nice to know you want it as bad as I do,” he says before leaning over.
DING DONG.
Hiromi opens his eyes. At first he doesn’t even recognize his own apartment, the view from the couch is downright unrealistic. With his swollen eyes he looks for any sign of yours presence, because even if he knows you weren’t here, his mind doesn’t want to give up. Not yet. He can’t help it, his professional tendency to hope for the best and be ready for the worst speaks through him.
But the longer he stares at his empty apartment and the longer he can’t find any part of the clothes that he just took off of you, the more and more the disappointing reality seeps through his mind.
Ding dong…
Oh, right - the doorbell. He looks at the door, then at the bulge in his pants, sighing at the bitter unfinished business. What one pizza delivery girl can do to a man who doesn’t even like pizza…
He slowly gets up, massaging his sore nape that the couch header have gave him as he approaches the door. A doubtful thought on the back on his head whispers to him that he may see you behind it - with your high-tied ponytail, a hoodie and unearthly legs - and that his dream have been prelude to the main event.
Hiromi opens the door and sees the most average looking stranger.
Yeah, he thinks, taking the pizza and mumbling thanks, life isn’t that pretty, is it? He doesn't think about covering himself or even feel embarrassed about it. There’s just pure disappointed in his heart and an annoying tightness in his boxers.
He closes the door. What a shame it wasn’t you.
there is a possibility that a second part will be written. thanks for reading!
#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk smut#jjk x y/n#jjk higuruma#jjk hiromi#jjk higuruma x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#higuruma x reader#hiromi higuruma
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It's Soap Saturday so I bring you a(fairly scattered) Soap analysis
"Oh she only has OCD and no more she's written badly" I HAVE OCD AND WHILE THAT DEPICTION WAS EXTREMELY DAMAGING AND COULD'VE BEEN DONE BETTER, IT'S UNFORTUNATELY ACCURATE FOR SOME PEOPLE(it's me I'm some people). SHE OBSESSES OVER EVERYTHING AND BEING A SOAP BOTTLE PROBABLY DOESN'T HELP SINCE OBJECTS ARE EXPECTED TO ACT ACCORDING TO THEIR OBJECTS
She can't HELP IT!!! SHE TRIES TO GET BETTER BUT LETTING GO OF YOUR HABITS IS DIFFICULT ON YOUR OWN AND AGAIN, AS A BOTTLE OF SOAP, SHE PROBABLY FEELS MORE SOCIETAL PRESSURE TO BE GOOD AT CLEANING!!!! SHE FIXATES ON EVERYTHING BECAUSE IT'S ALL SHE FEELS LIKE SHE CAN DO TO HAVE ANY CONTROL OVER THE SITUATIONS SHES IN!!! Besides cleaning, she has ONE coping mechanism, and it's one that everyone else HATES(singing). So no WONDER she ends up just cleaning. For hours. And hours. And hours. To the point where it's irrational
ALSO THAT'S ANOTHER THING!! Having control over situations is very big for me, and fixating is one of those things that helps. For Soap, being in a clean space and cleaning the hotel helps her feel like she can actually be calm and helps control her emotions, because without her cleaning? The hotel would be in shambles! If SHE wasn't helping, then everything would fall apart!! Sure, this isn't reality, but for her? Someone who has tried again and again to make things better but just making them worse BECAUSE of her impulses? She needs to feel like she's doing SOMETHING or else she's nobody. Just another stereotype ignored by the narrative
It's not HER FAULT that she has OCD and it's not HER FAULT that societal pressures force her to be who she is. Besides, after Tissues got eliminated, she could've thought that SHE had a higher winning chance because he got eliminated for his trait being. Well. Sick. So, as the opposite, the fans should love her!! Right? So, she goes further, she puts soap on the pizza, she has a musical number while fixing the hotel, she does all of these things to not only give herself a sense of stability, but also to hopefully boost her appreciation from the audience
And it didn't work
The moment she STOPPED cleaning, it didn't work. She told Mic to listen to her heart when walking through the portal, but if we're being honest(and if we see the comics), she went right back to cleaning. The moment she tried to be less impulsive, she was eliminated. And there goes her control once again
As of now she's likely right back in that loop, cleaning endlessly despite being asked not to as it isn't needed, but she won't, because if she's not CLEANING, then she doesn't have a purpose. She can't just pick up a new hobby, this is her LIFE, and if she can't sing, then she only has one option left
Or maybe I'm just reading too much into a one note character, who knows
Happy Soap Saturday
#Soap Saturday#inanimate insanity#ii#character analysis#soap ii#ii soap#this was written by the self-proclaimed 1 Soap fan#textcorner#textpost
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Despite being head over heels in love with Ice and Mav's dynamic in the original Top Gun, the same dynamic in Top Gun Maverick with Rooster and Hangman never worked for me. This is my attempt at voicing why:
DISCLAIMER: This was not created with the intention to offend anybody who ships Hangster/Sereshaw. It is simply my understanding of their relationship, and why it doesn't appeal to me. Opinions are like the butthole, everybody has their own. By all means, continue shipping them if you want to, this is only for fun.
Hangman and Rooster's entire relationship is based on resentment.
Unlike Mav and Ice, they have history. There's something from the past that lingers in all of their interactions, poisoning all of their words and actions.
Hangman is frustrated with Rooster, all the time. Of course, he banters with everyone, Phoenix about her gender, Bob about his callsign, but those are more 5th Grader Playground insults than anything. It's different with Rooster, and not in a good way.
When it comes to Rooster, Hangman goes straight to insult his character. He doubts his judgement, insults his way of being and flying, prods about how he needs to change if he wants to fly the mission.
With Ice, he was criticizing Maverick, not insulting him. Hangman is both criticizing AND insulting Rooster because he perceives him in a less that ideal light.
Hangman doesn't understand why Rooster flies the way that he does, and doesn't try to either. He just sees it as wrong and doesn't think twice about it. He goes straight to insulting him because he thinks that it's wrong, and that it's something about Rooster that needs to be fixed.
And Rooster is constantly exasperated because of it. Hangman prods, and jabs, and insults Rooster, but it never works. The more Hangman pokes, the more Rooster closes up, frustrated. He gets angry, pissed and becomes much LESS inclined to listen to anything Hangman is saying.
Rooster doesn't work well under pressure. And that's the only way Hangman operates.
Throughout the movie, Rooster doesn't listen to Hangman once. He might've been right about Rooster being too slow, but it only fell on deaf ears (not to say that he was right to bring up Goose's death, he was defo wrong about that one). All it causes is strife, to the point where Rooster almost punches Hangman because of how infuriating he was to him.
The entire movie, Hangman provoked Rooster to get him to stop being the way he is, because he sees it as a flaw of character. And it doesn't work.
Rooster only drops his need for playing it safe when Maverick tells him to 'Not think, just do'. Because Mav only gave him a push in the right direction, not throw in his face all of his flaws.
(Side note: This is also the reason Rooster doesn't listen to Mav in their argument, because he thinks Maverick was insulting his way of being by saying he wasn't ready. On the mission, by selecting Rooster as his wingman, he recognizes that he is ready, and that he trusts him with his life. Making him more inclined to listen to Mav once in the canyon.)
A relationship where one person is constantly frustrated by the other and the other is constantly exasperated by the former doesn't work.
Because that's how they are, and that's how they function, and it isn't going to change.
Rooster isn't going to stop frustrating Hangman because that's how he works, and Hangman isn't going to stop making Rooster exasperated because he doesn't know how else to voice his feelings.
I can see where the ship comes from, because obviously. Their homoerotic tension could be seen from space. I totally believe that they might have had a fling in the past that ended badly, and that they possibly could have hooked up at some point in the movie in the 'Hate Sex' vein of things. I just don't think it'd be anything beyond that.
They wouldn't work in the long haul, is what I'm trying to say.
They're too similar, and too different at the same time.
They're both hothead stubborn motherfuckers that couldn't come to an agreement if they tried.
And you might show me the scene where Hangman is happy about Dagger 2 hitting the target, and him being absolutely devastated when the same hornet is shot down. I recognize it, it demonstrates care. Hangman cares.
Thing is, that doesn't change anything that I said prior to that.
It's possible to resent, despise, be bitter towards and irritated by someone and still care about them. It's possible to hate them and still care. Hate them, and feel like you don't hate them all the time. Human emotion is a funny thing like that, nothing is ever black and white, always varying shades of gray.
Just because they hate each other (and yes, that is the reading I have on them, doesn't stop them from being horny fuckers about each other tho) doesn't mean they want the other dead.
I believe it's similar to the sentiment of "I hope you get everything you ever wished for, and that I never hear a word about it". Similar, but not the same, in a way I do not know how to describe. Thus, I used that to give the same vibe.
I can't see any future for them, in any shape or form. They hold too many grudges against each other, and both of them have a tendency of holding on to old (bad) feelings far too strongly. Even if they work through whatever problems they have now, new ones would emerge and they would go through the same process again and again and again.
That isn't healthy nor stable. It's not what either of them should strive for in a relationship. With that, I'd probably say that both of them need stable people that hold logic to high regard, and that are easy going (I say that in general terms, with no one specific in mind for either of them).
All that being said, this is my opinion. This is how I view them, and understand their relationship. They don't work for me because I see no logical way they could.
If they work for you, that's great! Enjoy the air gays 2.0 to your hearts contentment, I'm happy for you.
This was just a fun analysis of my vision, with no intention to diminish anyone who might enjoy them.
#top gun#top gun maverick#tg:m#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#top gun hangman#bradley bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster top gun#rooster x hangman#sereshaw#hangster#icemav#only a lil mentioned icemav#idk if i should tag any of the ship names#im scared to post this#Im probably gonna get roasted for this#But oh well
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hi thank you for your wonderful work. if you have a second (+ want to! /no pressure at all) would you do alcremie's caramel swirl with strawberry sweets? thank you so much you're a wonderful human being sending you 100 million shiny luck and 100% crit rate <3
sure! then i'll give you all an update from the future that a few fans of certain pokémon will appreciate
i believe these should be right? hopefully those are to your liking!
NOW!! my update. now that i've got a consistent process for making sure models look as good as they can, i've gone back and replaced some of the ones that looked a little less-than-stellar due to my old process. these include hatenna, hattrem, sinistea, and polteageist. i've edited the original posts to include their updated models (and they should look just like they do in-game now!) i debated about whether i wanted to reblog the posts to make sure everyone could see them (especially since i imagine not many folks read responses to asks [especially not this early in the morning]), but i figured i would just link them here just in case so as to not spam your dashboards (and possibly notifications, if you have those on! i'd like to be courteous on your cognitive load!)
now. the rest of the asks:
i find it hard to believe anyone likes mr mime, really. i think it's hard to take one look at it and not feel a primal sense of Disgust for this creature
forgot about that! yes, the sentiment seems to be that this thing should probably have been a bug-type. plus, fighting/bug? silly typing. four times weak to flying, yes, but it's!!!! silly!!! bug that punches you??? yes please
well then here's more alcremie content just up at the top! you're welcome
and now, nose ratings:
personally i think ponyta had a very nice sneefer. so mean :/
#long post#not pkmn#nose ratings#i just hope that the true sinistea/polteageist/hatenna/hattrem fans see this so they don't think i just don't care about those pokémon#that's what i really care about. the ten or so folks who were WAITING for those pokémon and may have been disappointed#by the quality they got. i've updated them‚ sinistea/polteageist/hatenna/hattrem fans…#i keep trynna type “hattenna”. because hattrem and hatterene have two Ts. at least it's not hatena. like flipnote hatena#you're welcome for making you remember that‚ by the way
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Oh my god yes! Imagine she doesn't even show him, just let's him find it when he's undressing her. He's kissing up her leg and over her thigh then all of a sudden it catches his eye
🎄
this is SO GOOD, and it's similar to what i was thinking, but I'll let you all know my first thoughts!!
(18+ brief non-proofread smutty thoughts below the cut)
✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿
see my exact thinking was you getting it before a big awards show, maybe the brits or even the Grammy's. you keep it a secret from matty, of course.
you knew they'd win. They always do. so you had a master plan for when they inevitably did, and mattys ego started to grow 10x the size. he always got cocky after a win, and you've lost count of the amount of award shows you'd been dragged away to fuck in the nearest empty room.
so when you hear that announcer say "and the winner is.... the 1975!" And Matty's hands are in your hair and his lips on yours within seconds, you knew everything was going just as you had expected.
they go up, matty does his speech, thanks you and annie as always. but when he comes back down, his hand is gripping the skin of your thigh so tight you wouldn't be shocked if it bruised.
as soon as the awards take a little break, you're being dragged away to a bathroom. matty's lips are on yours the second the door clicks shut behind you. his thigh is pressed between your legs, and you start grinding down without a second thought.
his hands are all over you, gripping and pulling. his mouth working furiously against yours, both your lips pink from the pressure. he's already pulling at the hem of your dress, "fuck get that pretty dress off for me baby. let's celebrate my win, yeah? wanna fuck you with my tongue until you're fucking crying. want everyone to hear what a slut you are for me"
you push him away and rest on the sink, pulling your dress over your head and letting it fall on the floor below. You try not to think too much about the fact your £3000 dress is currently on the dirty bathroom floor, which is quite easy when you meet Matty's eyes and see them tracing your body.
your dress was a backless number, so you went bra-less, much to matty's enjoyment. so his eyes linger on your tits for a minute, and before he can cast them down further, you're pulling him in by his tie and wrapping your legs around him.
Once his lips are on yours again, you grab his hand and bring it to your tattoo. matty thinks you want him to pull your panties off, so he tries to grip the fabric. when you pull his hands off the fabric, he's confused, humming against your lips. but when he lets you drag his finger around those 4 lines, he knows exactly what he's feeling.
the speed at which he rips away from you is like lightning. dropping between your thighs without a second thought with wide eyes. his jaw slack as he stares at the box, tracing it over and over again with his pointer finger.
"fucking hell, you been hiding this from me, sweetheart?" matty whispers, letting his hot breath brush over your skin and smirking as he watches the goosebumps erupt in his wake.
"wanted to get it as a congratulations present for your award, you like it?" you tease, rubbing the bottom half of your leg up and down his back, ever so slightly pulling him closer to the tattoo.
"what if we didn't win? you gonna get it lasered off?" he teases, pressing kisses around the thin black lines. you can't help but gasp at the feeling of his hot lips against your skin.
"mmmn knew you would win. even if you didn't, you still own me just the same, " you whisper breathily, throwing your head back as matty starts pulling your panties down with his teeth.
anyway, you can guess what happens next. basically, matty eating you out and going on and on about your new ink.
"my girl. I fucking own you. branded yourself with me, huh? right by your needy cunt. or is it mine now, hmm? because that's who it really belongs to, doesn't it? its my pretty pussy to use whenever I want"
anyway... very fucking filthy <3
#sorry kinda talked too much#also this is bad#but im THINKING#thanks kirke for encouraging this#(as always)#teacher au!#matty healy smut
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You're Home
@flashfictionfridayofficial prompt - "rushing train"
Cw: panic attack
Crowley tried to take a deep breath, but it was already too late. His chest had seized up, and his lungs wouldn’t work. The panic attack rushed him like on oncoming train, and he didn’t have time to get off the tracks.
He barely had time to crumple onto a low rock wall in the garden. Gasping for breath, he clutched at the stones as everything spiraled wildly around him.
The world blurred out, and Crowley groaned. Typical, so bloody typical. He and Aziraphale had plans.
“Why now?” He could barely even get enough breath to complain. “Okay. Okay. Calm down.”
He didn’t manage to calm down. Trembling rushed through him, and he let out a strangled scream as he thumped the wall. All he accomplished was hurting his hand.
Several failed attempts to breathe later, he slid off the wall and crumpled to the ground. He pressed back against the cold stone, solid and secure. No one was about to grab him. No one was even here.
Unless they were. What if Heaven and Hell had finally decided to attack? What if he’d picked up on it subconsciously?
Hyperventilating, Crowley twisted around. Was Hastur behind that tree? Maybe there were angels hiding on the other side of the fence. Maybe—
“Crowley?” Aziraphale called. “Where are you, my dear? We’re going to be awfully late for dinner if we don’t leave soon!”
Ohshitohshitohshit, Aziraphale was here. He was in danger.
Crowley shoved off the ground, stumbled sideways, and nearly fell over his bag of gardening tools. He pulled himself together—except for the frantic hyperventilation—and forced himself to move. “Aziraphale!”
Aziraphale, coming down the stone path, tutted are him. “There you are, you old serpent. Whatever have you been up to? Why are you breathing so hard?”
“Trying to outrun a train,” Crowley choked. He grabbed Aziraphale and shoved him behind an old oak tree.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale struggled against his panicked grip. “Goodness, whatever is the matter with you? Did you spend too much time in the sun and get delirious again?”
“Nuh.”
“You certainly seem delirious.”
“M’ not.” He was increasingly dizzy though, and he lost hold of Aziraphale. “Look. Look. It could happen, couldn’t it?”
Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “What could?”
“The…” Crowley tried to inhale, and this time he didn’t get any air at all. “The… whatsit. Them. Blam!”
His vision fuzzed out, and he fell over.
“Crowley!” Aziraphale caught him and eased him to sit on the grass. “Dear chap, you must tell me what’s wrong. Are we in danger?”
Crowley wheezed in response.
“Are you certain we’re in danger?”
Crowley wheezed less certainly.
“Hmm.” Frowning, Aziraphale rubbed his arm and looked around. “Well, I certainly don’t see any trains. And if by ‘Them’ you mean giant ants, I shall reiterate my statement that you’ve been watching far too many horror films before bed.”
That was so insulting that Crowley almost managed to reply. But he couldn’t get enough air, not yet.
The immediate panic was starting to die down, though. The pressure on his chest eased, and he managed a labored gulp of air.
As soon as he got a little air, his mind started to clear. Which meant he immediately winced with embarrassment. “Er. Hi. Sorry. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.” With a worried smile, Aziraphale took his hand and patted. “Although I do hope you feel up to explaining. Your claim that there was a train was rather alarming.”
“Sorry. Metaphorical train.” Heart still racing, Crowley leaned back against the tree and squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “Dunno. I just…”
“Had a panic attack?” Aziraphale asked kindly.
“Nrng.”
“Was it about anything in particular?”
“Nah. Nah. I don’t think so.” He looked around nervously anyway. “I was just planting marigolds, and then wham. Couldn’t breathe, freaked out, whole nine yards.”
The frown returned to Aziraphale’s face. “We only have one yard. Granted, it is quite extensive, but…”
“Figure of speech.” He definitely didn’t have the energy to try to explain that or anything else right now. Except there was one thing he did have to explain. “Er. Angel. I don’t think I can do dinner. Sitting in a restaurant is eurgh.”
Terrific. That was a really eloquent explanation.
Aziraphale sat beside him under the tree and put an arm around his shoulders. “I understand.”
“Gosh, really?”
“Of course. If you’re having sudden feelings of dread in our very own garden, a restaurant would be intolerable.” Ducking down, Aziraphale met his gaze through the dark glasses. “I truly don’t believe there’s anything to fear, you know. You’re home and perfectly safe. There’s been no indications that either of our old sides have any interest in us.”
“Right. Right.” Gulping, Crowley tried to drag his mind around to that concept. “I’m home.”
“Yes, you are. We both are.”
Crowley took a deep breath. It came more easily this time, which was a relief. Technically, he didn’t actually need to breathe, but that didn’t matter in the throes of a panic attack.
He curled up against Aziraphale’s side and just relaxed for a while. Enjoying the cool afternoon breeze, the smell of flowers, the utter lack of anyone trying to kill them. No more oncoming metaphorical trains.
“Okay. Okay,” he said when he was sure he’d recovered. “We’ll try dinner out tomorrow, maybe. You wanna head in and we’ll cook something together for tonight?”
Aziraphale beamed at him. “That sounds so lovely.”
They helped each other up, and Crowley glanced around once more. Then, since all was well, he and Aziraphale joined hands and strolled back to the cottage together.
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Xan you pls so some nash sad headcanons?
of course<3. may be shorter than my other sad hcs cause i'm currently sick. i might make some more when i feel better. small, small trigger warning for suicidal thoughts, self harm, and tobias hawthorne. hope you enjoy!
he's obviously extremely protective of his brothers. so much that, when skye or tobias got mad at one of them, nash would convince them it was his fault so they wouldn't hurt his brothers' feelings
this is less of a head canon cause he mentioned this in tbh, but nash is convinced that everyone will someday leave him, and that he'll end up alone.
although tobias and skye hurt him a lot (verbally, they didn't hit him obviously), he had to pretend he was fine all of the time for his brothers. they thought he was a disappointment because he didn't act like a 'real' hawthorne. he didn't tell anyone.
the pressure he puts on himself sometimes becomes too much. so much that he's considered ending his life by jumping off of a bridge/overdosing on smth.
high school was extremely tough for him but no one knew. he felt like he had the world on his shoulders and couldn't speak to anyone about it. his grades would start going down (mind you, they were still great), and tobias would get mad at him. he'd try extra hard to succeed, and he did, but at the cost of his mental health
the reason why he has a savior complex is bc he wishes he could've saved his brothers from everything that tobias did to them. it became even worse after emily. he thinks it was his responsibility to warn them and help them. he know thinks he has to save everyone to make up for it.
nash thinks of himself as a complete failure. so much that sometimes simply looking in the mirror makes him cry.
this one will sound corny but he saves everyone but himself (he doesn't think he deserves to feel better)
he puts everyone's needs in front of his own. he sometimes doesn't eat, sleep, etc just to help his family. (he ended up in the hospital once cause he passed out due to malnutrition)
when nash was younger, he wanted his father in his life so badly he would go beg tobias to tell him his name. he wanted someone who would be there for him bc no one else was.
he used to think there was smth wrong with him bc he wasn't like his other brothers. at the same time, he knew it was partly bc he knew how messed up his grandfather was, but he still wished he could be like the others/accepted.
tobias used to tell him that he was extremely disappointed in him all the time. tobias wanted him to take care of more than he could take. tobias didn't actually care if it took everything out of nash, he just didn't want to take care of everyone else himself.
tobias used to hear him cry at night but didn't do shit to help him. he thought that nash had to toughen up (he was like 13)
nash doesn't like letting other people do things for him bc it makes him hate himself even more. he feels bad when people take on what he thinks is his responsibility. at the same time, it makes him cry cause it makes him feel loved.
he gets mad at himself bc he thinks he's overreacting all the time. he tells himself other people have it worse and that he has no right to complain when he has such a good life.
in high school, he was actually in some pretty sketchy friend group. they took drugs and stuff and got him into it. nash never got addicted, but he now takes drugs when everything becomes too much for him.
in my jamie head canons, i said that he hits punching bags until his hands start bleeding (and even that doesn't stop him sometimes). i think the same goes for nash. he wouldn't self harm in a way that made it obvious to himself that he was harming himself. he'd do it in 'subtle' ways that he could convince himself weren't self harm.
his hands are really messed up for multiple reasons. the boxing and the fact that whenever something goes wrong, he bites his nails and the skin around them.
(idk if this one is even possible, but i'm on the verge of falling asleep and want to finish this) when he fails to save someone, he'll stuff his head in a pillow/in his cowboy hat to cut off oxygen. it kind of brings him back to the present when he starts spiraling.
he has really bad anxiety and actually takes pills to deal with it. all of his responsibilities and stuff weigh him down a lot.
he does so much for others that when he got together with libby and she started doing things for him, he'd actually cry. she'd make him breakfast and he'd tell her it was too much.
he used to have trichotillomania (mental health condition that involves irresistible urges to pull out hair from your scalp, eyebrows, or other areas of your body). over time he got better, but sometimes it comes back when his anxiety is really bad.
he used to make his mom drawings and gifts in hope of getting her attention (she never cared). he used to think it was because his drawings weren't good enough, so he'd try again and again until he realized he was the problem.
nash personally blames himself for all of the pain tobias caused people (like lyra and stuff). for some reason, he thinks he should've stopped him somehow even though that's impossible.
he used to come home really scraped up because he'd get into fights for his brothers whenever someone was mean to them or hurt them. he has some permanent scars on his body bc of the fights, but he still thinks he should've done more.
whenever nash does something he deems 'wrong' he hears tobias' voice in his head telling him he's a failure.
a happy nash head canon to finish this off:
nash, as a kid, loved ducks. he would head to ponds to feed them, and he owned like 294810 books on ducks. he had tiny duck figurines in his bedroom (and still does). he used to make short videos about them and his little trips to the pond with his camera.
#the inheritance games#jameson hawthorne#grayson hawthorne#avery grambs#nash hawthorne#xander hawthorne#libby grambs
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#fco au. obviously. ← this is where vale needs to swoop in and touch marc's waist and kiss him and tell the press they have something very very important to discuss it can't wait and then he drags marc away
LITERALLYYYY one of the myriad sexy things about fco conceptually is it explores the sort of. violence of being a celebrity. like everyone feels like they knows you and wants your opinion and a lot of people ignore your boundaries and treat you like a zoo animal. genuine nightmare scenario. like personally i think i would hate that,and certainly it seems like marc and vale have had their gripes with it in the past (vale asserting any partner of his would have to share him with the public, marc asking gresini if he could have less press appearances in his contract this year), but they are still crucially still very GOOD at it. and kind of accept it as part of their jobs in a way say. casey stoner did not.
so this is a fic scenario where essentially one of the WORST things possible for them gets leaked to the press (gay. fuck nasty. public.) in the direct aftermath of vale knowingly using the media circus to fuck marc over and HURT him. and then vale decides it goes too far and jumps on the shitwagon with him to protect him, even when he knows that the press will harass and abuse him the same way they do marc. it’s essentially like. i love you (he does notttt know that yet though) so i will stand in the eye of this storm WITH you and help you through it. very romantic to me..
so YES. even post fco drama when they’re together and happy it’s like. the media pressure does not necessarily STOP, it just CHANGES. like they’re still famous they’re the royal couple of racing, and after marc’s injury he still has all the same questions and microphones shoved in his face all the time and it SUCKS ! but hey! vale loves him ! and operates in the public arena just like he does ! and is maybe the only person in the world who can make a room full of motogp journalists pull their attention from marc. so i think on these high pressure weekends the most common place you can find vale is rightttt at marc’s elbow, spinning the room around his orbit as much as he can just so he can give marc a little relief. walks up BIG kisssss cameras flash. every microphone shifts a foot to marc’s left (not the bad side, vale is careful) and vale immediately starts jabbering about bezz and diggia and marc can feel the tension headache recede just a little…
#phone autocorrected vale to cake EVERY TIMMEEEE#vale would just announce that they’re going to go fuck to the press though. and it WOULD get a big laugh.#marc makes a similar joke and the laugh is just kind of polite.#motogp#callie speaks#asks#rosquez#forced coming out au
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Understanding your Rui! A guide to Rui smiles by Mod Tsukasa 🌟
Under the cut because it's kinda long lol-
The Default
The standard Rui smile, more showmanlike and not fully genuine (about 80% so). Accompanies performances, rambles about his ideas, and trained cards. More cat-like, eyes not open as wide, the :3 we all know and love, your Rui is currently running on default settings.
The Chaos
I couldn't find a good pic of this one, but the one when he knows people are gonna think his ideas are dangerous or outlandish and embraces it. Incredibly wide eyes, cat smile alongside cat-like pupils, high pressure washing machine, proceed with mild caution.
He Is Loved
Much rarer than the default, occurs when he is fully accepted for his ideas and who he is, able to go all-out with a show or be his true self with friends and the people that love him. Wider eyes and a smile that's closer to a :) than a :3. Much rarer before Pandemonium, but has become a lot more common since then. Your Rui is thriving, living his best life, you have done good.
Oh No.
Oh that smile is Very Fake. He is on the verge of tears, he's realizing both how much he loves his friends and how much he hates the thought of losing them. The less cat-like smile of his true smile, but the more squinted eyes of the default. Please give him a hug and show him that it's okay to express his true feelings.
Many thanks to @an-inspired-eternity for inspiring this post
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Set In Stone
Part Two
Pairing: Darklina x Fem!Reader
Summary: As the sun sets, your new life as a statue begins and you struggle to find your place in this strange and unfamiliar world. The more you learn, the less you understand, and the feelings you’re experiencing regarding Aleksander and Alina only adds to your confusion.
Warnings [18+]: smut, dub con, fingering, nudity, somnophilia, discussions of sex, mild violence towards the reader (physical and magical choking), angst, references to emotional manipulation with magic, object insertion, human to statue transformation, consumption of magical potions, very brief mentions of pregnancy, Aleksander and Alina have been alive for centuries and they don’t know how to have normal relationships
My Masterlist • Part One
As sleep fades from your mind, you turn your head and end up face to face with Alina. Her pale hair casts a soft halo over her features, the bright strands ruffled erratically by her slumber. A heart stopping smile spreads across her lips when her eyes meet yours.
“Good evening,” she whispers.
After scouring your surroundings, the plush pillows and soft sheets, you blink at her shyly.
“How did I end up in your bed?”
She brushes a strand of hair from your face, her fingertips grazing over your cheek to trace along your jawline.
“You were fast asleep when you turned human again. I couldn’t bear the thought of waking you. Aleksander carried you to bed.”
“Oh. Thank you.” She beams at you, her hand snaking its way down your body before it settles on your bare mound. Heat spreads over your cheeks as you ask nervously, “Are you checking for stone?”
She shakes her head, her fingers slipping between your folds. Each stroke is casual and languid, as if she’s simply enjoying the feeling of your arousal building beneath her touch.
“You’ve been so good,” she coos dotingly with a rather adoring smile. “I think you deserve a reward. Don’t you agree, Sasha?”
Aleksander’s hand smoothes over your hip as he presses a kiss to your collarbone. The smile that touches his lips is softer, more tentative, yet he agrees immediately.
“I do.” His answer is low and raspy, his voice thick from sleep and it makes your stomach flip.
Alina’s thumb encircles your clit and you whimper at the sudden burst of pleasure thrumming beneath your skin. It spreads through your muscles, soaking deep into your bones until you’re shaking with the need for more.
Their voices are low as they murmur encouragements and praises that make your cheeks burn, heat diving down to where your pulse is pounding. After the last two days of being edged and toyed with, your nerves are fraught.
The pressure of Alina’s thumb remains steadfast, confident circles that make you writhe between them both. In a direct contrast, Aleksander’s fingertips are deceptively light as they dance over your bare body. They leave you aching for more and less at the same time, which has you approaching your climax at a frightening rate.
Even after you’ve come undone over her fingers, the shaking doesn’t stop and your heart continues to pound as you attempt to catch your breath. Overwhelmed, you close your eyes and press your head back into the pillow beneath you. Before you even realise it, you’re thinking of Alina wrapping her arms around you while Aleksander strokes your sides.
Emotion blooms heavily in your throat as you realise how much you want to be held by them both. The urge makes your chest ache, but the thought of asking your captors for cuddles makes you feel ridiculous. Zoya’s words immediately spring to mind. You’re too soft for them. Much to your dismay, hot tears begin to slide down your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the back of your hand to quickly hide your tears and prevent any further embarrassment. Alina curls her fingers around your wrist, halting your movement, which allows your tears to fall in earnest.
“Whatever for?”
For a brief moment, you want to admit how much you want them both to care for you, and tell her about the doubts Zoya had placed in your mind. But you bite your tongue.
Zoya might not have given you the warmest welcome, but you don’t want her to get into trouble. Not to mention that you feel insane for feeling so much for them in such a small space of time. You shouldn’t feel anything for them besides anger and hatred for what they’ve done to you.
“Nothing,” you concede weakly. “It’s nothing.”
Alina tightens her grip on you.
“Don’t lie to us.”
Her voice isn’t overly stern, yet her eyes are your downfall and you relent quickly at the sight of them so fixated on your tears.
“Zoya said I’m too soft for you, and I’m scared she’s right.”
To hide from their reaction, you close your eyes. Until Aleksander says,
“Alina used to cry after sex.”
Shocked, you look up at Alina. Her head turns quickly to direct an accusatory look at her husband.
“Aleksander!” Each syllable is drawn out with mock fury and she swats at his bicep in retaliation. He ducks his head, attempting to make himself a smaller target.
“You did,” he protests with a playful smile which softens as he adds, “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She clasps her hands in her lap, appearing shy for the first time since you met. Her gaze moves up to you from the ring on her finger - a polished piece of black onyx simmering in the candlelight.
“Aleksander was my first,” she admits.
Her eyes flicker up to look at him, a fond smile spreading over her lips when their eyes meet. It must have been centuries since they first met, yet in this moment you can see how they must have been when they first fell for each other. It warms your heart, yet there’s an ache of longing there once again.
Alina ducks her head down, capturing your lips with hers which catches you completely unawares. A small sound of surprise hums in your the throat, which soon dissolves into a quiet moan of pleasure as the ache in your chest eases. She cups your cheeks, her hands a soothing balm to the distress that had been burrowing its way into you.
She settles on top of you, pushing you firmly onto the bed, and you grind your hips upwards mindlessly in search of some friction. She breathes out a soft laugh, her smile widening which she sees your lips chasing hers.
A shocked little “oh!” escapes you when she slips a finger inside you which she mimics teasingly.
“I think you can give me another one. Can’t you, my little statue?”
Halfway through shaking your head, your body tenses with the force of nearing another climax. Each muscle in your legs quivers and you dig your heels into the plush mattress as you lose control over your body. The pleasure makes you shake even more than before, your chest heaving rapidly.
“You really are a work of art,” Alina murmurs appraisingly, her fingers dancing up your bare body. Unable to acknowledge her words, you keep your eyes closed as Aleksander tilts your head backwards, revealing your neck for him to kiss. His teeth drag over your pulse point and you moan softly.
Then Alina slips her arms around your waist, pulling you against her chest - away from Aleksander’s lips.
“Don’t damage her, Sasha.”
He grips onto your hips, tugging gently in an attempt at dislodging you from Alina’s hold as he argues,
“She’s my statue.”
“But I made her.”
An aroused little gasp slips from your lips, which draws their attention back onto you. They both grin. Alina strokes your cheek fondly.
“Do you like it when we fight over you?”
“A little,” you admit shyly.
They both laugh, appearing to settle on a compromise as they both begin to kiss you lazily. When Alina claims your mouth, her husband nibbles along your pulse point. Then they trade places. Aleksander sucks on your lower lip, while his wife digs her teeth into the sensitive spot beneath your ear.
There is barely a moment between each kiss for you to recover. It leaves you breathless.
“What kind of Grisha do you think you are?” Aleksander murmurs against your lips. That makes you withdraw slightly, though they don’t let you go far.
“I- I told you, I’m not Grisha,” you insist. “I’m not powerful like the two of you, or beautiful like the other statues.”
Alina sighs heavily but Aleksander smiles at his wife.
“Now you know how I felt about you.”
“I wasn’t this bad.”
“You were worse.”
Their discussion of you - and your non existent power - has nerves settling in your stomach and you gnaw on your lower lip in agitation. What will they do when they figure out that you’re nothing special? They won’t want you anymore. Aleksander draws you into his lap.
“Don’t worry yourself, my gem. Alina has always had a shorter temper than myself.” That makes her scoff lightly, rolling her eyes in fond exasperation at her husband. “Even after a few hundred years, she struggles with the art of patience. But I can wait. Reveal yourself whenever you are ready.”
Alina gives you a soft smile. It’s clear she agrees with Aleksander’s sentiments, but that doesn’t fully ease your anxiety. After all, you don’t understand what they want from you. Surely, if you had some sort of power it would have revealed itself already.
The covers slip from Alina’s body as she stretches, yawning rather adorably. Then you notice the scar on her left shoulder. It’s small, but gnarly, stained black from some sort of dark magic.
Hesitantly, you brush the knuckle of your index finger against the ridge of roughly healed skin. She smiles softly, before explaining in a low voice,
“A gift from the Darkling.”
The sound of Aleksander’s former title makes you glance at him quickly. A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he leans over to kiss his wife, which has your stomach flipping with surprise. You had thought neither of them would want to be reminded of when they were enemies - though it seems to be quite the opposite.
They both grin into the kiss, Alina’s teeth nipping at his lower lip during a brief interlude when they part for air. In response, Aleksander curls his fingers around her throat, squeezing the vulnerable area against his large palm.
A rather dreamy sigh escapes you, as you stare in admiration of them both looking so breathtakingly beautiful. The sound attracts their attention and they turn to look at you. Alina leans over to you, kissing you softly before she slips from her husband’s grasp.
Aleksander props himself up against the headboard, his bicep flexing as he curls his arm behind his head. The two of you watch Alina as she moves towards the wardrobe at the side of the room. The dimples at her hips crease as she shifts her weight from side to side, considering the clothing hanging in front of her.
She turns with a white lace robe draped over her arm and heads back towards the bed. She places it over your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“I’ll call for Genya to keep you company today.”
Self conscious, you fidget with the hem of the robe, drawing it closer to yourself as you lower your gaze.
“You don’t need to bother her. I’d be alright by myself.”
Aleksander reaches for you now, fingers grazing the side of your neck before they curl around the nape. He kisses you leisurely, his lips moving slowly as he steals each second of precious air from your lungs. When he finally withdraws, your chest aches as you gasp in a series of shuddering breaths.
“You aren’t a bother,” he insists. Then he kisses you again.
Hands curled into weak fists, you press them against his chest, unable to figure out if you want to push him away so that you can breathe or bring him closer to drown yourself in him. Bright sparks dance beneath your eyelids as he pulls away and your head spins as oxygen floods your system.
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Genya grins widely when she sees you standing outside Aleksander and Alina’s door.
“I take it you’ve had a good night so far?”
Heat rushes to your cheeks and you duck your head bashfully to escape her gaze as she loops her arm around yours. The two of you walk side by side through the corridors, moonbeams and flickering candles lighting your way.
Genya pauses when you reach a set of double doors. She pushes them open and immediately a rush of humidity hits your face. A shudder rolls through your body, as the lingering cold inside you flees from the heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat glossing over your skin as you enter the room, squinting in the bright moonlight that spills from the large window carved into the ceiling.
In the centre of the room, there’s a pool which seems to be the main source of heat. Steam curls over the surface of the water and you look at the people lounging around the room.
“Most of the statues spend their nights here,” Genya tells you.
“Doing what?”
“Whatever you want. Relaxing. Sleeping. Pampering one another.”
The sight of one particular group catches your attention immediately. Three women and one man. They are seated amongst a mound of velvet cushions and plush fabrics. All four of them are in varying stages of undress. The woman in the middle is wearing a sheer red robe, her bare body openly on display. Her eyes lock on yours and recognition dawns on you.
“Is that Zoya?”
Genya nods.
“Beside her are Nadia and Marie.”
The two women are fawning over Zoya, their hands wandering over her body. The man is draped between her thighs, his head ducked down as he licks leisurely at her cunt. It makes your core tighten.
“And…?”
Genya scoffs lightly in amusement when she sees where your gaze has stopped.
“The one between her legs is Nikolai.”
She takes your hand in hers, tugging you towards the side of the room.
“Here,” she says. “Let’s clean you up a little.”
The two of you find a quiet corner where you can sit undisturbed. There’s a number of smaller pools, that remind you of rock pools, where water bubbles cheerfully.
Genya finds a seat, settling down on a velvet bench that sits low to the ground. She scoops up a handful of water, splashing it over her face. Her fingers smooth across her cheeks, droplets clinging to her eyebrows and lashes. When she sees you watching her, a smile spreads across her face.
She dips her hands back into the water, shaking them lightly before she removes them and sweeps her wet hands over your face. The moisture makes your nose crinkle and Genya laughs softly.
“This water is enchanted.” You hum questioningly and Genya explains, “Being turned into stone so often takes a toll on our bodies. The water helps our muscles and joints stay healthy.”
She tilts her head, eyes tracing down your body while you consider this information.
“Should we clean off your legs?”
Looking down at your thighs, heat rushes through your body as you realise that the mess of your arousal has dried on your skin.
“I can do it, thank you.”
“Sit at the edge of the pool,” she suggests. A frown creases at your brows and she smirks with mischief in her eyes. “Zoya will be able to see you properly there.”
The temptation is too much to resist. It’s hard not to be aware of the eyes on you, as you sit down at the edge of the pool. But, after spending the beginning of the night with Aleksander and Alina, you feel a little thrill of pride as you lower your calves into the warm water, scooping up handfuls to clean your thighs.
The water is soothing against your skin, a comforting caress that clears away the evidence of your earlier climax.
At the far end of the room, a door opens and Alina steps inside. Almost everyone turns to look at her, as her eyes scour over the sea of faces until she lands on you. Unable to stop yourself, you smile and glance down at your bare toes, splashing them in the water beneath you.
She walks casually around the pool, her eyes rarely straying from you. When she reaches where you’re sitting, you tilt your head back to look up at her.
Alina sits down beside you, taking hold of your chin so that she can press a chaste kiss to your lips in greeting. A shy smile quirks at the corner of your mouth.
The two of you sit in comfortable silence, your legs hanging down in the water as you watch the other statues lounging beside the pool. Then she turns to ask you,
“Has Genya told you why I make my statues?” With a frown, you shake your head. “Aleksander and I aren’t complete together. There’s a missing piece - another person to balance us.” She glances around the room, gesturing to all the people relaxing in the heat. “Every one of my statues is someone who I hoped might have been the one.”
“What do you mean?”
“Aleksander’s mother was a prophet. She told him that our future partner will be a powerful Grisha. Someone capable of breaking my statue spell.”
Immediately, you think of the book you found in the library and attempt to remember how the spell could be broken. Before you make any progress in your recollection, you’re distracted by thoughts of how Aleksander had pressed you against the bookcase, leaving the hint of a kiss on your lips.
A flustered heat spreads over your cheeks and you look down shyly at your knees, hoping she can’t tell you’re thinking such thoughts about her husband. She traces her fingertips over your shoulder, drawing little patterns on your skin.
“The spell I placed on you is exceptionally hard to break. Do you know why?” You shake your head. She smiles. “Because you love me - and you like being my statue.”
Caught off guard, you’re painfully aware of your heart pounding in your chest, hot blood rushing to your cheeks and down your neck in response to her words. The feelings you have for her are still difficult to decipher and you’re mortified at her brazen acknowledgement of them.
She looks down at her knees, her feet swaying lightly in the water.
“All my statues love me - I created them - they can’t help it. That’s why you haven’t ever considered hurting me, even after what I’ve done to you. But the love you feel for me now… it isn’t real.”
Stunned by her words, you can only stare with parted lips. Something sharp twists in your chest. Strangely enough, it feels a lot like betrayal. The blossom of your feelings has been plucked, its petals tattered by the storm of emotion currently threatening to choke you.
She smiles sadly, reaching out to stroke your cheek. The ache inside you deepens at her touch. A tear spills down from your eye and you shake your head which causes her to drop her hand.
“No.” The word wavers on its way out. She tilts her head, frowning slightly as she tries to read your current emotions. It takes a moment for you to settle on one in particular - anger. “You don’t get to take my entire body away from me and then tell me what I can and can’t feel for you.” She leans closer, her hands reaching to comfort you and you recoil backwards. “Don't touch me.”
Alina freezes and for a brief moment you think she looks hurt. Guilt stings at your chest. Then her brows furrow together, her features darkening.
“I don’t appreciate that tone.”
Usually, you would be terrified of angering her, but in this moment you’re too upset to care. Tears blur your vision as you pull your legs from the water.
“Well, I don’t appreciate being a plaything to amuse you until someone better comes along.”
Her eyes widen, her expression dropping as you stand. Her voice is a near whisper that you barely hear as you hurry away.
“That’s not-”
The idea of your feelings towards them being artificial, something created by Alina’s magic, has you feeling foolish and eager to get away. They haven’t allowed you a moment alone since your second transformation into a statue and the heat that had initially been comforting is now strangling you.
A shiver runs over your wet skin as you walk through the corridors mindlessly by yourself, with no destination planned. Genya’s tour yesterday hadn’t been extensive and you soon find yourself in an unfamiliar area that looks like an entry hall.
As you walk towards the large oak door, your heart rate quickens in anticipation. There isn’t much hope in your thoughts when you reach for the handle, twisting it cautiously.
The door opens.
Stunned, you look back into the house, almost expecting someone to appear and stop you from leaving. But there’s no one there. From where you’re standing the house is silent, aside from the frantic beat of your heart.
For a moment, you hesitate. Your feet are bare. You’re only wearing a thin robe. But you aren’t escaping. A short walk in the gardens might help you clear your head.
The paths are winding, the route concealed by the tall bushes that line each side of the walkway. It’s almost like a maze. The thought of wandering until sunrise makes you worry. Would Aleksander and Alina look for you?
The sight of someone in the corner of your vision makes you halt in your tracks, stepping back behind a bush out of sight.
“You’re new,” she says.
Her accent isn’t the refined Old Ravkan that you’ve grown accustomed to hearing in the house. Rather naively, you stay still in the hopes of losing her attention.
“I can see you, little miss.” She laughs bluntly. “Not to mention that I can hear your heartbeat.”
Stepping forwards, you move away from your hiding spot.
“You’re a heartrender.”
She tilts her head, studying you for a long moment with her pale blue eyes before she nods.
“What’s your name?”
Genya had told you that only the statues that fall out of favour with Aleksander and Alina end up in the gardens. Even with your feelings hurt, you don’t want either of them to be upset with you. As a result, associating with someone in the gardens might not be the best idea. After some hesitation, you give her your name. She nods in acknowledgement.
“I’m Nina.”
“Why are you out here?”
She grins.
“I could ask you the same thing, little miss.” There’s a teasing spark in her eyes and you lower your gaze bashfully. When you don’t speak, continuing to wait for an answer, she sighs and explains,
“I fell in love. Aleksander didn’t approve.”
“What happened?”
She turns her head and you follow her gaze as it lands on a rather weathered statue in the centre of the neatly cropped lawn. The man is sitting on the ground, his expression fond as he looks at no one. Then it dawns on you.
“You’re one of Alina’s statues.”
She nods.
“As my punishment, Aleksander turned Matthias into stone. When one of us is a statue, the other is human.”
You can’t imagine how upsetting it must be, being separated from the person you love like this. Never able to talk to them, or hold them again. Yet so close. From what Genya has told you, Aleksander and Alina seem to care for their statues. But Alina’s admission has made you wary of your thought regarding them.
“I’d get back to the house if I were you,” Nina advises you. “Before they realise you’re missing. You don’t seem like the type to misbehave.”
Immediately, you shake your head at the thought of getting into trouble with Aleksander and Alina.
“I don’t know the way back.”
Nina raises a brow at you. For a moment, you feel like a lost little lamb. Helpless. Then she points down a pathway.
“Keep following that path until you reach the fountain. Walk through the rose garden, then you should be able to see the house from there.”
“Thank you.”
She shrugs.
“Don’t mention it.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Lost in thought, you wander aimlessly through the house. As you’re turning a corner, Aleksander appears out of nowhere, pinning you to the wall. His hand curls around your throat.
“You’ve upset my wife.” His words are cold and calm which sends a shiver down your spine.
“She upset me,” you protest, gasping in his hold as tears fill your eyes. “But neither of you care about that. You don’t care about me.”
“We don’t care?” he repeats slowly, as if testing the sound of the words on his tongue. Panic claws at you when you realise the skin beneath his palm is turning to stone. “You think we allow any of the others into our bed?”
Unable to stop yourself, you remark,
“What about Zoya?”
His anger sharpens, his grip tightening as he tilts his head aside to watch intently while your airway becomes restricted by marble.
“I have known Zoya for centuries. She helped me stave off the loneliness until I met my Alina.” With each word, his magic creeps over your skin, hardening your throat into marble. Dots swim over your vision, as breathing becomes even more difficult. “I don’t care which one of you started this petty rivalry but it ends now. You want to take Zoya’s place? Earn it. Is that understood?”
Only once you’ve nodded weakly does he finally release you. Without the pressure of his hand to keep you upright, you collapse. Instantly, you place a hand to your throat, rubbing the tender skin there as you heave in a flurry of shaky breaths. Teary-eyed, you stare up at him. If he regrets his actions, you don’t see it in his expression.
He strokes your cheek, ignoring how you flinch.
“I expect an apology before sunrise.”
There’s a hoarseness to your throat when you attempt to speak.
“I’m sorry,” you state shakily.
He grips your chin, tilting your head back to meet his darkened eyes.
“Not to me.”
A faint nod is all you’re capable of, but it seems to satisfy him and he strides away down the corridor.
Hot tears roll down your cheeks as you stumble back to your room. The only emotion you’re capable of feeling is utterly distraught, the shattered pieces of your heart digging into your lungs.
Once you reach the safety of your room, you close the door, slumping weakly against it as you tuck your thighs against your chest so that you can hide your face between your knees.
Then there’s a knock at the door.
It’s Genya. She smiles gently.
“Aleksander sent me. Are you alright?”
Immediately, you crumble in on yourself, bursting into tears. She wraps her arms around you, drawing you close as she steps into your room.
“I know,” she murmurs sympathetically as she strokes your hair. “He scared you - didn’t he?”
Genya guides you over towards the bed, setting the two of you down as you continue to cling onto her. She lets you sob, only stepping in occasionally when you forget to breathe. In this moment, you are so upset that you forget how self-conscious her beauty makes you, even when she wipes your runny nose until the skin is raw.
It isn’t long before you’re exhausted by your emotions.
She lowers your head onto her lap, so that she can smooth over your hair soothingly. The tears fall slower now, sliding heavily down your face. The two of you remain silent for a long time, the only sound being your tearful sniffles as you slowly begin to calm yourself.
“Genya?” She hums softly, encouraging you to continue. “How old are you?”
There’s a pause.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“We don’t really keep track of the days here,” she says lightly. “I used to count the summers, but gave up after so long. It doesn’t really matter to us.” Fresh tears bloom in your eyes, as you realise you are trapped here forever. Nothing can take you away from them, not even old age.
After a discrete sniffle, you ask,
“Were you one of the first ones?”
Her hand halts in its petting.
“What makes you think that?”
“They trust you.”
She pauses, before admitting,
“I was Aleksander’s first statue.”
At the mention of his name, you sit up to face her.
“Aleksander’s?”
She nods, stroking your cheek gently as she sweeps the tear-soaked hair from your face. You frown.
“But, doesn’t that mean you should be a statue now - at night?”
She shakes her head.
“As a wedding gift for Alina, he removed his magic from me, so that Alina could have me as hers. He did the same to Zoya.”
“Zoya?”
Saying her name, even in a whisper, makes you feel as though Aleksander and Alina are about to descend upon you for a scolding.
“Alina and I were friends almost instantly when she arrived here. Zoya has always been possessive - I think she and Alina are too alike - they bickered and fought from the moment they met. Belonging to Alina is a gift for me, but it’s a punishment for Zoya.”
Genya shuffles across the bed, until her feet are touching the ground. Then she tilts her head, studying your face.
“It’s almost time for dinner. Why don’t we freshen you up and head downstairs?”
The thought of sitting at the dinner table, in front of Aleksander and Alina and all the other statues, makes you want to hide in the wardrobe or under the bed.
“I’m not hungry.”
A light frown crinkles at her brows.
“They won’t be happy if you skip a meal,” she warns you. Something must shift in your expression, because she softens her tone as she adds, “After dinner, you could speak to Alina about what happened between you.”
“I don’t want to, Genya,” you protest pitifully, your voice wavering as you wipe at your tearstained cheeks with agitation. “They hate me.”
“They don’t.”
Staring down at your hands, you admit rather brokenly,
“I think they do.”
She places a hand over yours, cupping your cheek with her other hand to guide your eyes upwards so that they meet hers.
“Neither of them are truly angry with you - maybe displeased but not angry. Trust me. If they were, we wouldn’t be talking like this.”
“I’d be out in the garden.”
She hums quietly, not an outright agreement but you know you’re right.
“Come on, let me clean you up. How did your feet end up so dirty?”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Aleksander’s expression is sombre as he enters the dining room. His eyes scan over each person at the table, and you avert your gaze when he gets to you. He sits down at the head of the table, the same seat as the other morning when you had eaten breakfast in his lap.
Everyone seems to be waiting for him to speak.
He adjusts the position of his cutlery, straightening the knife closest to his plate. Then he looks up directly at you.
“Alina won’t be joining us for dinner this evening.”
You feel sick to your stomach.
Unable to focus on anything but the storm of emotions swarming in your chest, you push your chair backwards, uncaring towards the scraping sound that attracts everyone’s attention.
Genya murmurs your name quietly, a comfort or a warning - you don’t know. Her hand tugs lightly on your dress, but you pull away easily, shaking your head to dismiss her sympathy. You don’t deserve it.
The weight of Aleksander’s eyes presses on you all the way to the doorway. You still feel watched, as you walk through the winding corridors towards their wing of the house.
Once you reach their door, nerves twist at your stomach but you force yourself to knock. The silence afterwards has you wringing your hands together. The sound of Alina’s voice makes your heart skip.
“Leave me be, Sasha.”
Drawing together your courage, you call out,
“Alina? Can I come in?”
There’s a pause. Then the door unlocks with a quiet click. The handle creaks lightly, before it glides open.
She’s sitting on their bed, wearing one of Aleksander’s shirts. Her arms are wrapped tightly around a velvet cushion and there’s twist in your chest when you realise it’s the same cushion she placed beneath your head when you were in your statue form.
Her eyes are lined with red, and guilt stirs in your stomach. She uncrosses her arms as you approach the bed. Some of the tension in your body eases when she pats the spot beside her rather amicably. Relief softens the frown creasing between your brows. She doesn’t seem displeased to see you.
When you sit down cautiously, she strokes her hand over your cheek.
“You look like you’ve been crying yourself sick,” she observes, her lips puckered into a sympathetic pout. Her concern makes your tears return.
“Alina,” you whisper brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”
She regards you solemnly, her expression unreadable.
“Did Aleksander tell you to come apologise?”
Her question catches you off guard.
“I-” The thought of lying to her makes your throat tighten. The memory of Aleksander’s hand squeezing there causes a phantom ache. “He did, but I really am sorry. I don’t know why I acted like that.”
“You got upset.”
“Yes. I did,” you whisper shamefully, lowering your head to avoid her gaze.
She hooks a finger beneath your chin, tilting your head backwards so that she can meet your eyes.
“I understand,” she concedes. “I’m sorry too.”
You blink at her, confused.
“Aleksander was the first person to want me,” she says quietly, her thumb circling your lower lip. “It’s been such a long time, I will admit, I forgot how much it hurt thinking I was unwanted. But I saw it in your eyes, and it… surprised me.”
She tilts her head, considering her next words.
“Most of my statues don’t care that their feelings were created by my magic.” She traces over your cheek with her fingertips, stroking along your hairline tenderly. “You’ve fallen a lot harder than the rest of them.”
Embarrassment warms your cheeks. It’s ridiculous, falling for her so quickly, especially after everything she’s done to you.
“I’m sorry.”
She smiles and your stomach flips at how painfully beautiful she looks with mirth glistening in her eyes.
“Don’t be.”
There’s a small pause.
“Genya said that belonging to you is a gift,” you state. Alina hums in confirmation. Her eyes flicker between yours as she acknowledges your unspoken question.
“Aleksander made Genya his statue to keep her safe from her parents. Even though she loves him like a brother, being tied to such a powerful man always made her somewhat uncomfortable. Becoming mine freed her.”
That makes you pause, titling your head as you think. Their displays of affection might be unconventional, but Aleksander and Alina do seem to care for their statues.
“I should have listened to what you were trying to tell me.”
She shakes her head.
“I’ve explained it so many times - to almost all the newest statues - I don’t know why I got it wrong this time.”
“How can I make it up to you?” you ask shyly. “I’ll do anything.”
She blinks hopefully at you.
“Anything?” There’s only a brief moment of hesitation, before you nod. “Take your dress off.”
Her request doesn’t surprise you, though you still feel shy as you slip the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing the fabric over your hips before you drop it to the floor. She smiles widely, playing with a strand of your hair before sweeping it behind your ear.
“I’ve been thinking of a place for you, in the house.”
The thought of being moved out of their bedroom so quickly makes your stomach twist. Nervously, you fidget with your fingers.
“You have?”
She nods, tilting her head to gesture towards the centre of the room.
“Do you see that table?”
Hope enters your heart.
“Yes,” you whisper.
She places her hands on your hips, steering you backwards until your lower back hits the edge of the table. Slowly, she slides her hands beneath the crook of each of your knees, lifting you up onto the furniture. The surface is cold against your bare skin and a shudder rolls through you.
“Stay here,” she commands softly, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.
She moves over to the side of the room, stooping down to open a cabinet and retrieve a bottle of dark liquid. After lifting the stopper, she pours a glassful and brings it over to you. With unsteady hands, you hold onto the glass, staring down at the contents.
“Drink it all.”
Not wanting to be seen as disobedient, you take a plentiful gulp before asking your question.
“What is it?”
She waits until you’ve swallowed another mouthful. The sharp fruit flavour quickly softens as it slides down your throat and the tension leaves your shoulders as you lick over your lips.
“It should help relax your muscles.” She smirks deviously. “So, I can push you into whatever position I want.”
The sweet taste lingers heavily on your tongue.
“What position are you thinking of?”
She takes the glass from you, licking the rim at the spot where your mouth had been. Arousal burns in your core. Her eyes flicker down to your lips, drinking in the sight of you growing so flustered and she grins.
She pushes you back further, your feet swinging off the floor, and your stomach flips at the sudden sense of vulnerability. Then she keeps pushing, lowering you down onto your back so that you’re lying in the centre of the table. A shiver runs over your skin when the cool surface meets your bare body.
Alina hooks her hands beneath your legs, lifting them up onto the table. She bends them, until your knees are pressed up on either side of your head, your cunt bared to the crystal chandelier directly above you.
“Can you hold your legs like this?”
Surprised at your own flexibility, you turn your head to study each of your legs.
“Yes.”
She beams at you.
“That’s my girl.”
Every inch of you burns delightfully. Hers.
She lowers her head between your legs. Her tongue slips through your folds, licking a stripe over your open cunt. A squeal and a moan converge in your throat at the sudden sensation and your face burns with embarrassment at the sound.
Alina lifts her head, a grin tugging at her lips.
“Stay just like this.”
She moves over to the side of the room, standing on tiptoe to reach for the decorative light fixture attached to the wall. The flame flutters as she grips the base, loosening it from the attachment that keeps it fixed there.
Her fingers are curled around the base, which acts as a slim handle as she carries it over to you.
She traces a fingertip lightly over the curve of your buttocks, a contemplative expression dancing in her eyes.
“I’d like to slot this inside you.”
Utterly taken aback, your mouth drops open.
“The candle?”
She laughs.
“No, silly girl.” She tilts the candle holder, gesturing to the handle. “This end here. Do you think you can hold it for me?”
“I-” You falter.
“It would make me very happy.”
Slumping your head back, you stare up at the ceiling, eyes wandering over the sharply cut gems as they reflect the low light of the chandelier.
“You’re coercing me,” you mumble in protest.
She grins, amused and proud.
“Yes.”
Closing your eyes, you push your embarrassment aside.
“Will you go slowly?”
Her expression softens.
“Of course.” She offers you the candle holder which you take with an unsteady hand. “Wait a moment.”
She moves over to her dressing table, opening a drawer which she searches through with a small frown on her face. With Alina busy, you take a moment to study the candle holder. The material is smooth in your hand. There’s a substantial weight to the metal and your core tightens at the thought of having the handle pushed inside you.
Alina returns with a small tub of cream which she scoops up with her fingers on one hand. Then she takes the candle holder from you, and you watch as she smears the cream over the handle.
She then slips her hand between your legs, tracing a firm circle over your sensitive cunt. The cream is cold and you twitch at the change in temperature. Her fingers delve inside you, curling as they search for the spot that makes your hips buck upwards with a startled gasp.
A deep moan catches in your throat as she begins to push the handle inside you. In your hand, the metal had felt almost room temperature but it’s like ice as it meets your red-hot cunt.
“There we go. Good girl. Take it all for me.”
She slides it further into you, so that the wick of the candle is pointing upwards towards the chandelier above you.
“With some practice, you might be able to hold onto a more weighty candlestick, one with several arms.” It’s hard to concentrate on anything while she’s twisting the base inside you. “A pretty little candelabra,” she teases.
A familiar stiffness enters your body, and you inhale sharply when you realise the sun must be rising. Alina strokes your thigh soothingly with a smile.
“It’s okay. Remember, you just need to relax.”
The idea of turning into a statue doesn’t scare you as much as it did the first time, but you still aren’t comfortable as the heavy sensation fills your body. Suddenly, you realise that she intends on keeping the candle holder inside you during your transformation - that during the day she will be able to use your body as a light fixture.
“Alina?”
She stills and you wonder if this is the first time you’ve spoken her name aloud in front of her. Her dark eyes fix onto yours.
“Yes?”
“What would happen if…” Embarassment makes you pause, as you struggle to gather your words. “…if I reached my climax the moment I turn back into a statue?”
She grins widely.
“Then you will stay in that blissful state for the entire day.”
“The entire day?”
She nods.
“It is a rather intense experience. The pleasure could break you.” She tilts her head, her eyes locked onto your soaked cunt as she continues to twist the handle inside you. The urge to squirm coils inside you, but with your body transforming all you can manage is a shiver.
“If I continue like this, you will stay on edge for the entire day.” She blinks at you. “Which would you prefer?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, your throat growing hoarse and dry as the skin of your neck turns to stone.
She hums, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“You handled a day of edging rather well last time. I think we will stick to that until you’re better trained to withstand pleasure.”
Thoughts of how she might train your body to endure such pleasure has anticipation prickling up your spine. She smiles, releasing her hold on the candle holder so that she can lean over and press a soft kiss to your forehead.
“I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
Pure bliss warms your body as you wake, a pleasurable fullness in your core that tempts you into sinking back into slumber. But the sound of voices keeps you somewhat awake.
“She thinks far too much.” A familiar voice. Aleksander. A firm hand strokes down your bare back.
“Well, I know how to remedy that.”
“And what do you suggest, my darling wife?”
“We spend the entire night in bed, passing her between one another. She can’t think if she’s drunk on pleasure.”
After blinking some of the sleep from your eyes, you shift your body slightly and realise you’re lying on someone’s bare chest - Aleksander.
His dark eyes are hooded as he looks down at you, a lazy smirk pulling at his lips, and your heart pounds violently as you attempt to remove yourself from him. Involuntarily, your cunt tightens around his cock - as if protesting the mere thought of your sudden exit. He settles both his hands on your waist, holding you firmly in place.
“Easy, little gem. I’m not mad at you.”
You blink at him.
“You’re not?”
He shakes his head, breathing out a soft,
“No. I’m not.” He rolls his hips upwards, drawing a low moan from you. “Alina told me you apologised.” His hips grind against yours, the head of his cock nudging the sweet spot inside that makes your skin tingle. “Therefore, you’re forgiven.”
“Thank you,” you gasp.
He breathes out a laugh.
His cock is so big inside you. It stretches you open with each thrust, nudging at your most sensitive areas which has your toes curling with pleasure.
Alina rests her hand against your stomach, stroking the skin there as she presses the area where her husband’s cock is. Her name is slurred as it tumbles from your lips. She laughs.
“Yesterday was a long day for you, little statue. You must be tired still. Get some more sleep.”
She kisses your temple and a fuzziness fills your head as her magic creeps into your mind. A delirious moan slips from your lips as you succumb to her spell.
Despite being asleep, you can still feel everything happening to your unconscious body, while your mind wanders through a medley of fantasies featuring Aleksander and Alina - which blur with reality until you don’t know what is actually happening.
Grinding your naked body into Alina’s, her hands grasping at your most sensitive areas. She slips her fingers inside you, prying your cunt open.
Kneeling between Aleksander’s thighs with Alina by your side. The two of you trade wet, open mouthed kisses. She takes Aleksander’s cock into her mouth, pretty pink lips stretched. The next time she kisses you, the taste of her husband clings to her tongue.
The head of Aleksander’s cock gliding over your dripping cunt.
Alina’s teeth grazing your nipple.
Her tongue licking up the length of your inner thigh.
The pad of his finger, rubbing your clit.
The sticky softness of Alina’s cunt against your tongue.
Distantly, you hear Aleksander curse in an ancient language you’ve only ever read on yellowed pages. His fingers dig into the soft plush of your cheeks as he grips your face while fucking into you relentlessly.
“Alya. Where do you want me to-” He groans sharply.
“Inside, Sasha,” she insists with a breathy sigh. The sound of her slick coated fingers, playing with her cunt makes your core tense. Her back arches as she whines softly. “Finish inside her.”
With a stifled gasp, Aleksander presses his forehead against your collarbone, as he nears his climax. His teeth dig violently into the hollow of your throat, the pain causing you to tighten around him, your cunt now strangling his cock.
The two of you moan in unison, grasping tightly onto one another as you both reach the peak of your pleasure, your bodies writhing in the throes of a violent, synchronised orgasm. Aleksander’s grip on your hips is tight, squeezing you as he groans.
Alina isn’t far behind, her frantic movements and moans registering distantly through the clouds of bliss fogging up your head. It takes quite some time for you to catch your breath. Even when Aleksander eventually pulls out from inside you, there’s a disconnect between your mind and your body.
Their magic hazes over your thoughts, dulling your awareness while she plays with Aleksander’s spend as it leaks out of you. The wet sound of her fingers and your unsteady breathing fills the room. She smears the creamy mess over your thighs, before ducking her head down to lap up the streaks with her tongue.
The three of you remain in bed, lying side by side. Unable to stop yourself, you look down at your hand, watching your thumb move slowly over your abdomen.
“You won’t end up with child,” Alina says quietly.
Startled, you look over at her with widened eyes.
“I won’t?”
She shakes her head.
“My magic stops your natural cycle.”
“Oh.”
Her eyes wander slowly down your body, settling on where your hand remains on your stomach.
“Besides, Aleksander and I can’t…” Her voice trails off into nothing and sadness traces its way over her features.
“Alina, I’m so sorry.”
She attempts a casual shrug.
“It’s probably for the best.”
Placing your hand over hers, you squeeze it softly.
“I’m still sorry.”
She slips an arm around your waist, pulling you close until your hips are pressed flush against hers, your legs tangled together. Her nose brushes against yours before she kisses you softly. Aleksander’s arm curls around the two of you, drawing you both closer to him.
He leaves a kiss on your shoulder, resting his forehead in the crook of your neck as he inhales a deep sigh. Another kiss is pressed against your pulse point as he murmurs in a voice so quiet you scarcely hear it.
“Thank you.”
͙⁺˚*･༓☾ ‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire
S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21
Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk @acehyacinth
BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla @the-desilittle-bird
#darklina x reader#aleksander morozova x reader x alina starkov#aleksander morozova x reader#alina starkov x reader#darklina au#shadow and bone au#shadow and bone x reader
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So. My save file for this new update of Stardew is VERY lucky. I've got the living hat. I have the garbage hat. I've found two trash catalogues. I've gotten an auto-petter. I also, for the first time ever, married Harvey. He's so sweet and gentle, I'm smitten, there's definite charm there that I'd overlooked before.
But the thing of it is, I'm also apparently pretty good at not fainting. In fact, I've never missed a bedtime, and I didn't collapse in the mines/skull cavern till my second year. Once I was already married. Which led me to remember that not only does Harvey save you once someone brought you into the clinic, but he had to perform emergency surgery on you.
We've been married less than a solid month. Things are going great. Farm is great. Community Center got fixed up. Boat is being worked on to open up Ginger Island. He gets his favorite coffee every morning and a kiss, makes breakfast sometimes, waters the cat because everything else is with a sprinkler system. Life is good.
Then one night a stranger drags his wife's mostly dead body into the clinic. Nobody else is there. Maru is at home. It's just Harvey in a small town clinic, alone, with minimal tools, doing emergency surgery on the new love of his life while frantically praying to anything listening that what he's doing is enough to keep them alive.
I realized, again, it does work. Just barely. You're fixed enough to get home and nothing more. You have no energy left. You're barely walking. Then you recover and are fine. But for that little frame of time, you were on the brink, and he was sure he was going to lose it all.
And that will happen. Every time. I am careless. In the caverns.
Somehow, being married to the town doctor suddenly has a lot more weight to it I guess. Wonder if I can keep up the "no collapsing" streak once I'm pregnant, or shit'll really hit the fan. His poor blood pressure.
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Another wip
also bonus explanation for splashtags/weapons/badges below. Due to the nature of Rajaion and Almedha spoilers for Tellius below. Also technically a spoiler for Splat 3’s story mode in a badge description.
For weapons, every weapon here has the Kraken Royale special in Splatoon 3, and someone agessss ago tagged my first inkling Kurthnaga suggesting he could turn inot the Kraken, and I thought that was fun.
Kurthnaga: He has a roller purely based on the fact my brain thinks he'd use one. Don't ask why it's just vibes I guess.
"Promising Ruler" is a reference to the end of Radiant Dawn, and the number 3108 is a reference to 31/08 or Halloween, because of his Heroes debut. He has the lvl 999 Tableturf badge because I think he'd enjoy playing it, the gold Kraken badge because weapon reasons, the bronze Grizzco badge because I imagine Almedha ropes him in to joining her on shifts sometimes.
Almedha: She has a splatling because I think it looks cool, and does a lot of damage from a far just like a certain dragon laser beam.
"Restless Sister" is because she left Goldoa before the Tellius games and inadvertently helped set events in motion. 2202 is 22/02/07 and is Radiant Dawn's Japanese Release date.
I also think she has some tendency towards violence since in canon she had a child with Ashnard of all people, and I doubt he was ever non violent. So she has Salmon Run badges, the flyfish is because I hate them and anyone with that badge is automatically cool to me.
Ena: She gets the Gal because usually it's pink and so is she, I also think she'd find tricky ways to use the Splash wall it comes with.
"Fortunate Tactician" in this au Rajaion doesn't die(if I make any tragedy it'll be reversible because this is funny squid game au and I like happy endings), and she's still good tactically. 2004 is 20/04/05 and is Path of Radiance's Japanese release date.
She has the Kraken badge like Kurth because of her weapon, X Rank badge because she takes battling as a tactical challenge, and the gold Tableturf badge because I think she'd also enjoy it, but play it less than Kurth.
Rajaion: He gets the charger because I was running out of weapons with the Kraken, so he gets an Elitre because I think they look cool, even if I hate fighting them. Also the spawn in pose is cool as hell.
"Revived King" He gets to live in this au, and not die. With Dheginsea being retired from whatever his role ends up as, Rajaion is technically in charge now. 1004 is 10/04/07 and is Radiant Dawn's Australian release date.
He also gets a matching bg style with Ena.
All his badges reference his luck in not being dead. The gachapon badge is basically gambling, so luck based, Cuttlefish got revived in Splatoon 3's story, and the wavebreaker is used as a revival device a lot in Salmon Run!
#splatoon au#Kurthnaga#rajaion#almedha#Tellius#splatoon#my art#wip#there’s been a lot of wips because I haven’t drawn properly for ages and felt like showing sketches for whatever reason#There’s less pressure for them to be good#Fire emblem
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If genocide joe loses the 2024 election don't cry about the people who understandably will not vote. I dont want trump but it'll be his own fault if he loses. If you still believe in the 2 party system you need to grow up
If you still believe that your own righteous fury is worth more than people's lives, then you also need to grow up. If a compromise will save lives, I'll compromise. I won't let people die holding out for a perfect solution that will never come.
#genocide tw#i am far less angry about people abstaining from voting this year than i was in 2016 for obvious reasons#but i have seen one too many 'the ceasefire isn't good enough' bad takes to be completely charitable#especially to those who seem to think that preaching to the choir on here is a better use of their time than flipping people on the fence#biden might be pro israel but he at least can be pressured into 'let's not kill civilians'#trump and his ilk think that annihilating gaza and everyone in it sounds great and that's what they will do if we let them
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What gets me about GW defenders saying that "Claude siding with Edelgard shows how far he's willing to go to get what he wants, he'll use anyone to further his goals" is that, even if that were accurate to his character... that's not what he does in GW. At all.
Which one of Claude's goals are ever progressed once he sides with Edelgard? And how does siding with Edelgard, specifically, accomplish said goal?
Maybe... killing Rhea? But all of the reasons he says he wants her gone in this game are either completely unproven or blatantly incorrect - there's no proof of the Church forcing arranged marriages, Crests do not force obligations onto those that have them (which Claude himself literally proves), and the Church is helping Dimitri restore Duscur - a foreign nation - meaning they are actively willing to help fulfill Claude's main goal that he came to the officer's academy to achieve.
And... that's it! That is the only possible thing that even POTENTIALLY helps Claude's dreams, and taking a five-second look at it shows that it actually does nothing at all to help anything. But in the meantime? Claude weakens Faerghus through agitating Sreng and invading it himself, forcing Dimitri to fight a three front war; he actively helps Edelgard get herself out of a messy situation, even though not helping her and letting her die would have actually helped him and would have actually been him using her like people keep saying he's trying to do; he and Holst even admit that by the end of the war Edelgard is going to make a vassal state of Leicester after taking the lion's share of Faerghus' territory for themselves, which Leicester can't do anything about because of Adrestia's far stronger military. He is the one saying that! He is the one pointing out that that is going to happen! And yet he just keeps going anyway!
He is the one getting used. Very blatantly, and very extensively. Claude walked himself into a trap and lied to himself into thinking he's the one with the upper hand, which somehow managed to convince a large portion of the fanbase too. There's no gray morality here, there's no cunning being showcased, Claude is just an evil stupid tool
#clyde discourse#doing a read over for what i have for the GW rewrite and just. man.#like. it's hard to even like Clyde as a villain because he is just so incomprehensively incompetent in literally everything he does#once Part 2 hits#like imagine if he helped EdeckyWecky up to the point where she'd ACTUALLY die without his help... and he doesn't give it#he lets her die and lets the Empire crumble without leadership#but Dimitri can't take advantage of that because he still has to deal with Sreng and the Alliance#meanwhile Clyde is sneaking in more and more Almyran forces through Nader manipulating Mr. King of Almyra#until he has enough to take on the weakened Kingdom and force it under submission through the constant pressure he's forcing it under#not through brute force but just through wearing them down to the point where they just can't keep going#and in his zeal to conquer Fodlan he fails to recognize that he's just become Shahid; someone who wants to become king no matter the cost#like imagine it's never said outright but that THIS is how power corrupts once genuinely good people#they're so focused on getting to the end point that they gradually care less and less about how red their path to that end point is#until oops everyone is either dead; too scared/unable to fight back; or are also swept up in the mindset of By Any Means Necessary#THAT'D BE A NEAT VILLAIN. even if it's not *Claude* at all that is a villain i could get behind!#but people keep insisting that 1) Clyde isn't a villain (he is) that 2) he's doing the right thing (he's not)#and that 3) he's in any way compelling (he's just brown Eddy Geddy but stupid)
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Why do you dislike the idea of Wen Qing being the top of a ChengQing relationship out of curiosity?
Short answer is that if it wasn't such an overwhelming majority of portrayals, I wouldn't!
slightly longer answer is that the idea that ~all het pairings have to have femdom in order to be acceptably progressive~ cuts off women from being portrayed as fully realized characters. It's a lack of willingness to explore their interiority and to allow them access to the full spectrum of humanity. Male characters are allowed to be messy. Male characters are allowed to pine and fall desperately in love and harbor fears that it's unrequited. Male characters are allowed to feel insecure and uncertain. Male characters are allowed to be loved despite all their flaws and all their mistakes and all their blind spots. Male characters are allowed to change and grow and be forgiven. Female characters have to be perfect angel goddesses who are given out to male characters as rewards to be worshipped. Let female characters down off their pedestals for once, I am begging.
*long sigh* It’s just like… nowadays we express attraction/affection towards a female character by going WOW STEP ON ME QUEEN!!! and towards a male character by going OH THE THINGS I WANT TO DO TO HIM… >:) HE’S SO PATHETIC AND WET
and it’s because we don’t want to be sexist and/or degrading! I absolutely get that! but when we’re actually writing longform narrative about specific characters, I want to be able to explore the character of the individual and the relationship, instead of just having those two sentiments writ large. I don’t want to read about generic Character A/Character B.
and like, again, this is a problem I have with the trend, not with any individual fic. I've read and enjoyed individual fics where she's the dominant one who takes Jiang Cheng apart and makes him beg for it. But why is it all I can find? Why is she slotted into the pigeonhole of "Wei Wuxian's mean lesbian bestie, whose own life never gets any focus" in the background of every other fic? Why does she never get teased by her modern AU friends? When does she get to be impulsive and silly? Why does she always have to be “too smart” to get involved in shenanigans? Why does she never get to let her guard down? When does she get to feel safe enough to relax her prickles and expose her vulnerable underbelly? Why does she never get to have vulnerabilities at all? Why does she never get to be soft, why does she never get to be sweet, why does she never get to rest and be taken care of? Why does she always have to have everything together? Why does she never get to appreciate or be grateful for someone else's good points, someone else's strength? Why does she have to be good at literally everything, instead of ever getting to let someone else compensate for the things she's not good at? She's lost so much, just as much as any male character in the series; why does she never get to cry and mourn and be held and comforted? Why does she always, always have to be the strong one? When does she get to put that burden down? Why is her canonical moral ambiguity never given space, when Jiang Cheng's is always portrayed as an obstacle between them? Why do her canonical wrongdoings never require forgiveness or atonement? Why doesn't she ever get portrayed as feeling guilty for the atrocities she stood by and let happen— that she outright enabled? Why does she never get to be a person?
tl;dr: every single time the male character gets to be a skrunkly meowmeow, his female love interest should also get the same treatment, dammit.
#littledust is out there doing yeoman's work though#I'm sorry I recognize that this is less diplomatic than it should be but like#this is. a nerve#I could copy out this whole rant for Royai fics#let! male love interests! be cool and admirable sometimes! otherwise why are you inflicting them on female characters you like!#as an afab person: it is EXHAUSTING to feel pressured to keep up the ~mean tough person who takes no guff and delivers hard truths!!!~ armor#and I don't want that for the characters I love. not in the relationships that I want for them.#whenever I see people say ''haha THIS is 'boys will be boys''' on videos of people having fun and being weird and living in the moment#I get so mad! why are you /gendering/ the human experience of being impulsive and whimsical?#anonymous#answered ask#no good things for the poor sad cultivators
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