#almost if not has killed more than one person before if not on purpose then by accident
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guys don't like me...
Summary: They’re your best friends! But some of the people (NPCs) crushing on you beg to differ, and are starting to hate seeing the guys flaunt their closeness with you.
Characters: Ace, Epel, Deuce, Cater, Leona
Ace
He’s someone that does this on purpose. It started with dropping in randomly while you were hanging out with other people. Ace picked up on their jealous stares whenever he stood a bit too close to you or laughed at his jokes.
It’s the way you visibly look more comfortable once he’s arrived, because with Ace there you feel less of a need to uphold politeness or conversation-carrying; his personality draws eyes to him instead. And then the one he’s talking to and looking at is you, but despite how that should make you feel put on the spot, it doesn’t.
Ace dances between aggravating them on purpose and feigning ignorance. He glances at the others when you’re not looking before sporting a smile to ask if you’d go to his basketball match next week. You sigh and say of course you will, ruffling his hair so as to get rid of his smug grin. If Ace doesn’t win, then dinner’s on him. He agrees, happy to leave the room now that he’s left a mark on the conversation. The other students’ moods have dropped, but you don’t know why.
Ace is also the type to be casually touchy, to the point where strangers ask if you’re together - to which he offhandedly says ‘nope!’ only to share your drink (indirect kiss) and receive odd (and some frustrated) looks in the next minute.
What, is this not normal? Color him flattered that you’re so lenient with him then! (Big faker, horrible horrible)
Epel
Another one that knows exactly what he’s doing, but what else should Epel do when people are eyeing you when he’s also hoping to confess as well? It’s only natural for him to take advantage of his circumstances - he’s already closer to you than they are, and frankly, while he feels bad at the way they deflate when he enters the room and your eyes immediately catch his, Epel feels a sense of pride from how charmed you are by him. It’s like seeing a garden of flowers lean towards the Sun for its attention, only to find that the sunlight has a favorite.
As jealous people sometimes do, his competitors try to subtly mention that Epel is quite cute for a boy, only for him to drop in (he wasn’t eavesdropping, just passing by) and invite you on a magic-wheel joyride. Your evident familiarity with this side of him only throws the others into confusion, and if they challenge Epel to a race, then… he can only accept it and beat them fair and square, no?
Slightly reckless but also very well-versed (to your worry) with going at high speeds, Epel wipes the floor with them. As to why you’re not a fan of this, it’s because he suggested you sit behind him to ensure he doesn’t cheat! (He’s doing this on purpose of course, but despite your comments of “you’re trying to kill me” you comply, which only strengthens his resolve as you wrap your arms around him to hold on for dear life.)
Deuce
(the NPCs are your friends from outside of school/your hometown! Implied that you and Deuce live fairly close to one-another)
He’s just a nice guy! A guy you think to rely on when you’re in trouble because there’s no one else as genuine and willing to help, in your book. And also the person you dare to open up about your struggles too, if only because Deuce Spade is no stranger to goals that seem unreachable at the moment - like every time you try to climb higher, the earth loosens and slips from beneath your feet and tests your strength.
If he ever hears the other students telling you that he’s a magnet for trouble, Deuce almost slips into self doubt before seeing the look on your face; the obvious disagreement, the hint of offense taken just at the idea. It makes him happy that you have his back even when he’s not around, but a part of Deuce didn’t want to be a wedge between you and your other friends either.
Their complaints soon die however when Deuce’s goodness manifests in a way no one can deny (not anyone with a conscience, at least). When you texted him and mentioned you forgot some ingredients for hotpot when your friends were over at your house, half an hour later there’s a knock on your door because Deuce has run over from his place with said ingredients, saying he had extra at home (“it’s going to expire soon, just take it, don’t worry”), and in a swell of emotion you almost burst into tears at the gesture (Deuce is the only one ever).
Cater
Who’s that guy that always tags you on Magicam? Cater likes being able to see his presence on your profile - it makes him feel more supported on the vast social media sites and quick-moving trends. Whenever you comment on his posts, a smile reaches his face at the sight of a comment that actually knows the context behind the pictures.
So of course, his jealous competitors are quick to ask you about your relationship with Cater. Were you dating? If not, why was he so clingy to you?
You never thought of Cater as clingy per se. Sure, he likes to throw his arm around your shoulder and give you celebratory hugs when something good happens, and texts you a lot - but that’s just how he shows affection in general, you tell them. He’s just a really good friend, and in your head you think that a part of you also relies on his cheeriness to keep your mood up. He always seems to be keeping the energy fun for the sake of others, that you wonder if he gets bored when you both just do nothing at his dorm, flipping through your feeds and doing meaningless quizzes about your personality type.
And then you recall how Cater always asks you for your results, comparing it to his as he leans his shoulder against yours to get a better look at your screen.
Does he know he treats you different? Maybe. But that’s for him to cling to as long as he can, before Cater has to fess up to his own emotions.
Leona
A mix of intimidation and annoyance is what your admirers tend to feel, whenever you’re with Leona.
You’re one of the only people that can approach him with a smile and ask the randomest things without fear of being shut down, and Leona simply regards you with a sway of his tail and comments here and there. If you’re feeling talkative, you strike a back and forth with him, engrossed in a conversation that onlookers can’t particularly intercept.
More annoying however, is when Leona knows they’re seething inside and just annoys them more by asking you if you could do something for him, like getting him food from the cafeteria. The goal wasn’t to make you run an errand, but have you ask him to go with you instead and buy it together. And with a purposeful act, Leona ‘reluctantly’ leaves his napping spot to be dragged away by you, hand pulling him lightly by the wrist or end of his sleeve.
Sometimes, you’re seen picking up an extra lunch while in the cafeteria line, thinking that you could save Ruggie some trouble by visiting Leona at the greenhouse yourself. Did you realize how much you were spoiling him? Leona says yes, though this awareness might be buried under several layers of him just being ‘a good senpai’ to hang out with. With time, he’ll make his stance clear though. No amount of daftness can ignore Leona when he wants to tell you something, after all.
#ace trappola x reader#epel felmier x reader#deuce spade x reader#cater diamond x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#twst x you#twst x reader#twst reader insert#twst headcanons#twisted wonderland imagines#storm writings#twst writing
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FNAF Movie Theory...
I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet.
Heavy spoilers under the cut:
After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.
Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.
The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.
Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.
As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.
And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.
So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.
It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)
As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.
Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.
#fnaf movie#fnaf movie spoilers#five nights at freddy's#five nights at freddy's spoilers#michael afton#mike schmidt
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𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.
All sentences here were taken from different media about possessive love, the thrill of the chase, banter, and competition regarding one's affection. Some have foul language so please beware but most are fun, banter, possessive fun. All of these are made for roleplay purposes. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.
I love you. You’re mine. I’ll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me.
I spend a quarter of every day inside you.
I have never said this to anyone before.
But the idea of you with child is the most insanely arousing thing I’ve ever imagined.
Your belly all swollen, your breasts heavy, the funny little way you would walk … I would worship you. I would take care of your every need. And everyone would know that I’d made you that way, that you belonged to me.
You want to be free. You also want to be mine. You can't be both.
We can't possess one another.
Just because I can't have you right now, doesn't mean I'm okay with him having you.
I will be good to you, Myst. Please, I promise.
You are mine. And I protect what’s mine.
Of course I won't go alone. I shall take my maid.
No.You will take me.
The purpose of a knight is to protect. Why won’t you let him do his job to me?
I want you all to myself.
I can’t explain to you the joy I feel knowing it’s all mine. That you are all mine, that your body is all mine.
There is something in me that wakes up when I want something, a possession.
God knows he deserved you more than I do.
Listen well, for you belong to me.
Good grief, you’re such an adorably greedy person.
And when you fall in love with her just keep in mind that she’s mine.
She’s more than you could handle, anyway.
That almost sounds like a challenge.
I don’t need your permission to do anything.
Your hands will touch me and no one else, Meadow. That is final.
You chase off every man that’s ever been interested, and you do it without even trying.
You reject every suitor and yet, you keep entertaining me. I believe you want me too, and you are dying to be touched.
I don't own you, you just belong to me.
You’re my gold, your cunt is my liquid gold.
I will have your mouth, you will give it to me. Then I will have your spirit, Circe. I will own it. Always.
By the gods you have never been more beautiful than you are right now, spread before me, wrapped in my wool.
Once I take you, you are mine. My woman. No other man can have you.
I do not belong to you, or to anyone else. I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want.
Not if it’s some ass who thinks he can put his hands on you.
You didn’t have a problem with me acting like a caveman last night.
When it comes to you… I don’t like to share.
Most men prefer to do the eating.
Do you know what passion is?
Most people think it only means desire. Arousal. Wild abandon. But that’s not all. The word derives from the Latin. It means suffering. Submission. Pain and pleasure, Nikki. Passion.
You’re wearing my colors, love.
I’m going to put you on your knees, Ruby. You’re going to hate how much you love it.
He is my king, he is my warrior, he is my husband and I am proud to say above all… he is mine.
You have rare beauty the like I have never seen but you will be more beautiful heavy with my seed.
You are my golden queen. You are my tigress. You are my Circe.
Never will I allow your gold to be taken from me. Never. Understand this, Circe, and never forget.
Maybe I fell in love with a version of him that didn't exist.
I would have you right here if you would let me. Fear you? I exalt you.
You could burn me a thousand times, and I would still want you for my own.
Everything has a price. The price, however, isn't always money.
You’re my scariest hell, You’re my perfect paradise.
Well, I admit my crib is pretty sweet. But a gold cage is still a cage, Harry.
I intend to the last.
If I win, then you shall be mine. Tonight.
You are so sure of yourself.
The game is simple. The women run, the men chase. If you catch the one with your color. . .well, that’s up to you.
But women have been running all their lives, most men don’t catch that easily.
We are in a maze, lost, and your hand is up my skirt.
Aye, but I don’t hear any complaints. The maze will hide our secret.
#roleplay memes#sentence meme#( cali meme. )#rp memes#rp prompt#rp musings#roleplay prompt#posessive meme#competition meme
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All That You Want | Hantengu Clones
This is a choose your own path style fanfiction!! At the end of this post there will be four links with descriptions of where you want to go, and what character you’ll end up reading about. All of these outcomes are 18+ so readers beware.
cw : mentions of killing, actual killing, cursing, demon slayer activities.
Art by Mdwyer5 on DeviantArt
You are a hashira. You reside amongst the strongest team of swordsmen that have been trained for years to put an end to all demon kind, no matter how vile, disgusting, big or small, the creatures can be. It is your duty and purpose to kill each and every single one.
At first, you had joined the Demon Slayer Corps to find out who you wanted to be in life. While others had their own personal motives, yours was somewhat introspective and thoughtful, not wanting to cause any disruption in the peace that was unknowing to your peers. You tended to float around quietly, observing everyone as they planned, trained, and feasted with everyone else, making memories and laughing with each other.
A part, no, every part of you wanted that. But even when you had passed all the tests and gained your title as a hashira, you still felt like a lowly swordsman and nothing else. You had thought there was just a few more tasks that needed to be done in order to find your own personalized breathing technique that each other hashira possessed. Some unbeatable task never done before.
Everyone had always made light of the situation to help boost your spirits, but it always reminded you that no matter how anyone looked at you, they would always pity you. With no breathing style, there was a severe disadvantage and low chance of you actually fighting the demons your fellow hashiras slayed. This time was different though.
Over the past few days, you had overheard one of your fellow hashiras talking about a demon of the twelve kizuki, a hierarchical ranking of only the most strongest demons. More specifically, the fourth Upper Moon. Hantengu. From what you know, Hantengu is a demon that holds great power, despite keeping the appearance of an old, frail man, with a growing bulge on his forehead. His blood demon art enables him to split himself into individual clones of himself and create entities that represent four main emotions : rage, pleasure, joy, and sorrow. Each of them hold their own incredible power through their thoughts and feelings of the main body, Hantengu, or the cowardly emotion of fear. You didn’t know how his demon blood art was activated, but there was only one way to find out.
No other hashira has worked their way up to meet or even seen the fourth Upper Moon, but not even the strongest of your peers were quick enough to act as you did.
There was only one way to prove to them that you are worthy of your status as a fellow hashira, and only one way to finally find your breathing technique, alone, and on your own. That was to find Hantengu and slay him, all of him.
The journey itself proved to be long and boring, as per usual. Yet you refused to think of anything other than Hantengu. Nothing else could take your attention off your sword, all the sharp edges that could seamlessly cut through any demons flesh. It was unbreakable, and it’s never met it’s match before. If Hantengu is who everyone says he is, be heading him would be easier than any task you’ve had, you’re confident.
When you arrive to Hantengu’s hidden location, you’re able to sneak in quietly and quickly, practically merging with the shadows. A faint smell of dust and mothballs fills your senses, an indication of just how untouched the rest of the area must be besides the single room Hantengu would be hiding in. Your eyes follow the ceiling and trace the walls above and you start to search for the demon, not making any sound as you do so. To catch him off guard would give you an even better advantage that you already had, but your element of surprise almost always goes undetected.
You start walking around and looking in possible rooms he could be in, and after a few minutes of searching, you let out a deep sigh and come to the conclusion that Hantengu isn’t here and you wasted your time.
That was, until you stood face to face with Hantengu himself, or what at least appeared to be a miserable, frail demon—fitting his description perfectly. He’s crouched and hiding…under a table? You knew what he was capable of, but looking at the heavy lidded eyes of an emaciated entity, you can’t help but feel pity on it. Just like you’ve done for yourself for so long.
Taking a step forward, your feet glide against the bamboo flooring, crunching down on the thin material. Hantengu, now aware of your presence, skitters backwards and falls on his back. The sight makes you cringe. He sounds like bones clattering. His greasy, shoulder length hair appears to be thinning, and his sad head seems to be deprived of all hair follicles.
You hold your ground. Surely, this had to be Hantengu’s true form. The cowardly nature of such a miserable creature fits how he’s described, but you can’t help but wonder how he’s capable of such power.
He’s covered in veins and wrinkles and his horns are barley larger than the diameter of his arms. If you blew on him, he would vanish.
“What…What are you doing here…you…human?” He sounds unsure of himself, still, his voice squeaking and breaking as if he hasn’t spoken in years.
“My name is Y/n, I know exactly who you are Hantengu.” You point an accusing finger at the shivering demon. He instantly falls to his face and bows his head.
“I know of no such thing! I’m innocent! Completely innocent! You can’t take me away! I did nothing wrong!”
Your eyes flutter as you’re taken off guard. “Uhm. Woah, calm down. This won’t hurt. Jeez…”
Hantengu looks up from his vein clustered hands, pointing a slender finger towards you, “It’s hashiras like you who made me! You! You’re responsible for this! Look at me!” He lurches forward but steps on his black kimono and trips on the throbbing bump on his forehead. He makes a muffled ‘ouch!’ sound and tries getting up, but gets stopped when he realizes his horns pierced through the flooring.
“Just…answer me. Why are you here?” Hantengu plucks himself from the bamboo floor and hunches his back into a protective shell-like posture, almost like a loafing cat, all for security.
“Hantengu of the fourth Upper Moon, I’m sorry, but I have to—“
Suddenly, he cries out, “I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna! I was hiding from you demon slayers! Why did you go and have to find me! I didn’t do anything wrong!!!”
Your eyebrow twitches. “You’ve taken multiple innocent lives, feasted on their flesh and blood, and now you’re hiding because you’re too scared to admit what you’re doing is wrong. Really fucked up. Don’t you know, or have any bit of consciousness left inside you to know that?”
“No!” He shouts but scurries back into a wall, “I don’t know what you’ve heard but it’s not right! Don’t accuse me of something I didn’t do! That’s wrong! You’re the villain here!”
“I’m no villain!”
“Yuh huh.” Hantengu covers his face with his hands and hides, “You’re trying to kill me!”
“No! Well, yes! But—“
“HA! See! You’re trying to kill me!”
You let out a loud groan that spooks the demon, “I’m going to kill you because all I want is to be someone! I’m not letting you stand in my way of getting what I want.”
He stares at you with his sunken in, red eyes, and through his prominently downward placed eyebrows. “Well, that’s a selfish reason.”
“IT’S NOT!” You stomp your foot and Hantengu screeches, lifting his arm protectively over his face. “I’ll make it quick. This has gone on long enough and you’re fucking annoying.”
“You’re annoying.”
“You’re so fucking old but you act like a child. Having a tantrum like this, you’re a coward!”
“You act like a child. You’re a coward!”
Hantengu’s mocking pushes off you the edge of insanity. To the point where you can’t take it anymore, he keeps whining and begging for his life, shaking and shivering with the fear that embodies his entire existence. Your head starts to spin.
“Enough! Enough! STOP IT!” You grab onto your sword tighter and fix your stance, “You’re so annoying!”
“No!” He chokes on his tears and coughs, hacking phlegm and saliva onto the tips of your shoes, “I’m not! You are! You aren’t leaving me alone!”
“That’s because—you know what.” You stop talking and bow your head, tilting the nichirin blade of your sword lower down to the demon, “Hantengu of the twelve Upper Moons, rest easy now and don’t ever come back.”
You quickly approach Hantengu, clutching your sword handle in your curled fists. The blinding blade flashes the demons fearful reflection into his eyes and glistens yours on the other side. He opens his mouth to beg for his life one last time, but by the time you see his teeth, the job is already done.
With a swift slice of your sword, you deliver a clean cut blow to the middle of Hantengu’s neck. Just like you trained to do. Seeing all his blood spill out of his neck and head felt good, relieving to say the least since you won’t be able to hear the squeaky, whiny voice of him ever again. His blood paints the walls and every surface it can touch, demon blood soaking the withered bamboo flooring and paper doors. You almost felt bad for making such a mess.
But, when you think it’s finally done and over, suddenly Hantengu’s head smacks against the floor and bounces up, making a disgusting ‘splat!’ sound before remaining afloat in air, giving enough room for his demon blood art to begin.
Hearing all the bones crackling and breaking sends shivers down your spine, squishing and squelching sounds emitting from Hantengu’s new slowly forming body. Unable to look away, you’re forced to watch as a new entity sprouts and grows, rather quickly, from seemingly nothing. Only this time, it was no where near as weak as Hantengu was. This time, the demon forming and standing in front of you was nearly twice your height, and from what you can tell, dressed in nothing but black hakama pants, stronger horns and closed eyes.
That’s all you manage to see before your instincts come in and you start running. Where to? You decide.
> Up the mountains, hopefully fast enough he won’t catch you.
> Into the forest, where you can hide behind the trees to catch a breath.
> Into an open area, where you can have all sorts of ranges and motions.
> Out into a flower field, where hopefully you’ll have an advantage that gives you an upper hand.
#kaicubus#demon slayer#demon slayer fic#demon slayer fanfic#demon slayer fanfiction#fanfiction#kimetsu no yaiba#kny fanfic#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#hantengu#hantengu clones#choose your path
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All these posts where Danny rips Supes a new one for his treatment of Kon el, conveniently leave out that maybe, just maybe Superman had very real justification to be wary of clones.
Does ANYONE remember Bizzaro?
How about Cyborg Superman?
No?
We’re all supposed to gang up on the guy who probably has some clone related PTSD or at the very least, some well earned paranoia. Why would Clark want anyone like that anywhere near his family or personal life, if he couldn’t be sure of their intentions. For all he knew, Lex made this clone a child ON PURPOSE, so clark would have a harder time fighting him.
And Danny would probably get it, He would understand Superman if nothing else. All of Danny’s clones tried to kill him too, INCLUDING DANNI. He could also understand the feeling of being violated by a creepy billionaire that’s obsessed with them, but thats another can of worms.
And obviously Danny could vibe with Connor, because he too, knows the feeling of being seen as less than a person.
If anyone is to blame here it’s Batman and the rest of the League for setting up both my Super Bois for failure. This clusterfuck of a relationship really could have and should have been avoided by almost everyone in the Young Justice/ Teen titans team and JLA members associated with said team.
One, by acknowledging Clark’s fears as valid and not trying to force Conner on Clark before trust could be established. None of them have an excuse, anyone in the Hero biz has and/or knows someone with an evil double/clone/doppelgänger story of some kind. It just comes with the job.
Two, by not getting Connor’s hopes up for a relationship that may never happen because of Clark’s previous trauma.
Three, let Connor know that he is wanted and there are people there for him, even if not by blood (Batman of all people should know how unnecessary blood ties are in family).
So I guess maybe instead of Danny wiping the floor with Clark, MAYBE, reconciliation might be more his thing. Cuz, you know, he’s been there too.
EDIT: went back try and clean up the post a bit.
#danny phantom#dpxdc#dp x dc#dcxdp#dc x dp#reblog so other crossover writers see this plz#Im so sick of seeing Clark get dunked on for not embracing the clone made to kill him with loving arms
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PATHETIC SHOWDOWN 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO
made a pathetic poll before, vox absolutely SWEPT against lucifer last time, pondered on it and thought hey out of all the people who could possibly evenly match up to vox in patheticness, ADAM might have a chance. SO
POINTS (feel free to come up with your own I am grasping at straws here):
Adam
FOR
got cucked by lucifer TWICE
what's more pathetic than getting left by your wife? getting left by BOTH your wives
an actual dudebro
dumb as bricks
just look at him
"HES UGLY" "PUT THE MASK BACK ON"
actually fucking dies
and not even by lucifer by fucking niffty
AGAINST
is actually a really powerful angel who could destroy alastor's shield with one punch and almost killed alastor
mentions that he does in fact fuck in episode 1
could possibly be argued to still have bitches with lute
Vox
some of these may just be copy and pasted from the last one. against will have new points to juxtapose adam though
if you've been around my space long enough you know these well
FOR
lost his own diss track against his rival
sings an entire number about not giving a fuck about his rival's return while being the only person TO give a fuck
tried to physically block a radio, an AUDIO output device as if it'd stop anything, failed at doing even that
his screen calls out the reason for his crashes and he seemingly can't control it
causes a city-wide blackout because his rival announced to everyone he rejected him
there is a non-zero possibility he was/is in love with said rival but said rival will never love him back
purposely avoided going to an overlords meeting and called his co-worker up at the very last minute to attend for him
the guy he appointed as a spy ended up being the very person to prove a sinner can be redeemed
coward who constantly hides behind screens
episode 8
AGAINST
he is capable in literally any context outside of alastor
debuts actually acting cunning
capable of coming up with something on the spot without hesitation (voxtek angelic security)
actually smart (able to interpret val's "put something inside them" comment as appointing a spy)
feared by his employees
well he didn't get left by anyone in an EXISTING relationship... he just got rejected in one that never started
he has bitches (yeah it's valentino but bitches are bitches okay!!)
is in fact not dead
#osrs.txt#sorry you can tell I pay more attention to vox's character#grasping at straws trying to put serious points for adam#adam firstman#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#adam hazbin#adam hazbin hotel#hazbin vox#hazbin hotel vox#vox#vox hazbin#vox hazbin hotel#unsure whether to put ship tags on this but I think I'll leave it be for now#they're kinda only mentioned in passing so#just not sure how far a reach this will get cause adam is less popular than lucifer#hazbin hotel
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Hi I hope you’re well 😊 I’m here to request your thoughts on Tommy Shelby as a father. Like how many kids you’d think he would have had if he only had one love interest (no falling in love with Grace or marrying Lizzie). Or if you think he’d be a girl or boy dad (personally i’d like to think he’d be a girl dad and have a big family haha). You can make this headcanon or just simply respond to this ask however you’d like! Thank you for taking the time to read and answer 🥰
Thomas Shelby as a Father
Tommy x Fem!Reader
Trope: Wait till your father gets home
Warnings: Angst, spoilers for most of the series, period-typical sexism, references to past ab-se.
What we see of Tommy as a father is that he's distant and seemingly detached. This, I feel, is because of his trauma in losing Grace and his growing obsession with obtaining power.
We do see that Tommy is aware of his children's emotional state but seems unable to comfort his son. He goes as far as to have Arthur be the one to talk to his son about why he had to shoot his horse.
Tommy clearly cares about his children. He runs through a field of landmines to save his son, when he had almost stepped on one to purposely end his own life. Tommy goes nearly mad when he finds out Alfie Solomons was involved with the enemy that kidnapped his son. He shot Alfie for that betrayal with the intent to kill.
When Ruby became ill and he thought was all due to a curse, Tommy hunted the woman down. He went on a bloody rampage because he thought it would save her. With all of this, we know he is a loving father. But without Grace, he doesn't seem to know how to show that love.
Let's say that there is no Grace, only you, and that no sapphire is ever put around your neck.
That Thomas might be different than the one we saw parenting Charles and Ruby. I think he would want more than two children. I think he would be the sort of man who would say "one is enough," but really he wants four.
He would never raise his voice in his home without good reason. Tommy knows what its like to have a father that rules through fear and honey. He won't be kind only when he wants something. He won't make his children afraid of him.
Personally, I do see him as prime girl-dad material. Like he would have one son and three girls. Regardless of the birthing order, he calls the boy his "heir," but spoils the girls. They each have their own horse, a wardrobe of beautiful clothing, and freedom to do literally whatever they want. He has opened his briefcase to find dollies and teacups from your youngest girl's tea set before. She thought he would be lonely at work.
His girls would be the sort to follow around staff and ask them intrusive questions. Tommy would not be immune. His daughters would probably ask him questions like: "Do you not grow hair on the back of your hand daddy? Is that why it's only on top?" At least one of his daughters would have a "I'm totally a witch," phase where she's flinging curses just like he used to. Only with her, it's cute because she's only nine.
The only son of Thomas Shelby would be safely tucked under his wing. At your imploring, he would take your boy on long car rides or out into town without his sisters to bond. The boy has a lot of pressure on him to succeed, Tommy doesn't always sympathize with that.
All four of his children would be little hellions. He would be dragged to see their school's headmaster on a near weekly basis. To the point where he isn't always sure which of his kids is in trouble sometimes. He just drops a donation to the school and the problem goes away. That's not to say your children are bratty or terribly spoiled. Well, they are, but not unbearably so...
Tommy makes sure his children understand where he came from. He brings them all to the Cut to watch the ships come through. Loves to leave them at Charlie's yard for an afternoon of mischief and bonding time with "Grandpa Charlie." They also get dropped off at Aunt Polly's home for weekends every now and again. The girls always come back with a new swear word.
They are new money, not old money. There are those who will look down upon them based on this alone. He makes sure his children are educated and well-rounded individuals. Tommy often worries about the state of the Shelby Empire after he dies. You remind him that he "isn't allowed to die," before you say so.
Tommy is still more distant than you would like him to be. He's so focused on his goals, it's like he forgets all about Arrow House and the family that lives there. The oldest two girls have said as much to his face once before. He took the family on holiday after that. You knew he would go right back to long nights in the office, but it was still sweet.
Life with him is hardly perfect, but it's closer to it than you could have with anybody else. And that's enough.
#peaky blinders#peaky blinders x reader#thomas shelby#peaky blinders headcanon#peaky blinders imagine#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby#thomas shelby headcanon#thomas shelby x you
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A FOOLISH LOVER'S OFFERING (10)
SUMMARY: On the way to Moonrise you and Astarion talk about some important things.
PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader
WORD COUNT: 3,060
WARNINGS: Spoilers for Act 2 (henceforth there will be spoilers in all chapters here on out), ANGST, mentions of murder.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi this chapter single handedly took every brain cell I had to write so hopefully you like it because I just want to set it on fire for all the grief it has caused me!!
CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER
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“Gods, I hate this place.”
Gripping your torch, you try your best to focus on the Harper’s. How they move through the shadows, navigating every twist and turn without issue, leading you through the pathways.
It hasn’t been long since you’ve started your journey. No longer can you see the shining veil of the Inn but, given what you know, you’re well aware that your destination isn’t nearly ahead either. There’s still plenty of walking to do. A few hour's journey at the least. Perhaps more if Astarion insists on continuing to walk so slowly.
At your side, his eyes scan the trees with a heavy breath, taking in the decrepit scenery at such a leisurely pace that it makes you huff and glance around, noting the distance between you and the others. At this point, you’re close enough that you can still see them but too far to hear what any of them are saying —something you’re certain Astarion’s done on purpose when he plants his arm around your shoulder.
“You know, I happen to find it quite charming. All the dread and despair. It’s a bit like being at home.”
You give him a look, raising your brow only to receive a snort in response, confirming that he’s (thankfully) kidding. “Ha, you think you’re so funny, don’t you?”
“Funny?” He moves his other hand to his chest, placing it against his leathers. “Darling, I’m hilarious.”
“Yes, yes, a real jester.”
His fingers flex around your shoulder, squeezing. “I’ll have you know I’ve always been funny. Even before all this vampiric bullshit.”
“Yeah?”
He nods, a slight thought flashing across his face that makes you wonder what he’s thinking about. Given the circumstances, you assume it’s a thought of the past. Perhaps of his life before Cazador’s reign. When he was merely an elf roaming topside around Baldur’s Gate without a care in the world. You imagine he was funny back then. Mischievous. Probably a little too out there, even for a magistrate considering the personality you’ve grown to love. Based on pure assumption, he probably had more fun in one night than you in a lifetime, spending his hard-earning coin on good food and drinks and—
“It’s rude to stare, you know.” He pulls you tighter into him, using his free hand to pluck the torch out of your hand so that you can wrap yourself around him. As you do, both of you breathe a sigh of what feels like relief, even though you’re currently experiencing anything but.
“Sorry.”
“Well, you were staring at me, so I suppose I can forgive.”
“Many thanks, my liege.”
He growls suggestively under his breath, making you scoff. “My liege, hm, I could get behind that.”
“Of course you could.”
“My liege,” he repeats, tasting it on his tongue, eyeing you with a lusty gaze that doesn’t quite make its mark.
Which only furthers the assumption that he’s deep inside his head still. Sifting through thoughts you’re completely unaware of as you walk in tandem to your potential untimely end. Almost immediately, it makes you wonder if maybe this is the right time to start asking questions. To finally speak up about the inquiries that have filed through your skull. Because after this, there’s no telling where you may find yourselves. You could be killed or locked away —lost to an abyss of some kind.
The options are endless; however, time is not, so instead of stewing in the silence you currently find yourselves in, you look up at him, taking in the shape of his face.
You’ve known him long enough now to know that the comments he often makes about his beauty are true. In appearance, he’s almost otherworldly. A beacon of well-aged flesh your eyes feel constantly drawn to. Whenever he’s around there’s this feeling of awe that comes forth. A subtle beating in your chest that quickens each time he’s present. When you look at him —really look at him— your eyes tend to open a little wider, surprised by how every feature seems to fit so perfectly in place. How everything feels uncharacteristically cohesive given his time spent abused beneath the moon, forced to stave and serve for all eternity.
If it weren’t for the issue of Cazador you’d be convinced he was blessed by the Gods themselves. Melded by their very hands to create a being of such high temptation and desire. You imagine them brainstorming his existence. Tirelessly spending weeks on end crafting the perfect specimen that would ultimately end up broken.
You realize then, taking in the lines that have developed throughout countless bouts of false grinning, that the very thing he loves most about himself was more than likely the result of his own downfall.
A downfall you find you’re still curious about. Even after your conversation, Astarion’s life before all this still holds an air of mystery. Between details already revealed, there are still patches of missing information. Sections of time where assumptions feel wrong but asking feels just as bad. And because of that, deep down, you know you should leave the curiosity alone. Pack it into the back of your mind for later use, but with the oncoming war and no determined outcome, you instead loosen your hold and take a side step.
“Can I ask you something?”
He narrows his eyes, readjusting his position now that you’re not locked against him, suddenly looking awkward as he puffs out his chest. “Depends.”
“On?”
“Whether or not the question is going to be depressing,” he replies. “Because you have that look in your eye.”
“What look?”
He reaches out to poke your forehead, pressing it roughly. “The one where your brows look like they’re going to become one at a moment’s notice.”
Swatting his hand away, you twitch your brows back into their proper positioning, annoyed. “I was going to ask about Cazador,” you tell him, truthfully. “I know he’s probably not a topic you want to discuss as we waltz to our potential doom but —I don’t know— I just have questions.”
He sighs deeply, drawing out his breath before giving you an unimpressed look that speaks volumes.
He doesn’t want to talk about it. Nor do you, but at the same time, you’re at the point where you’re unable to deny your interest because Astarion’s your friend. A companion you cherish more than you know you should. A person whose well-being is so important you’d virtually do anything to maintain it. Which is why you’re determined to pry a bit more than usual. Taking these final moments you have to yourself to ask the one question you’ve been wondering for ages.
“What will you do about him? When this is all over.”
Surprisingly, there’s no hesitation in his words when he tells you he’ll kill him. As you continue along the path, listening to him come up with all the vile ways he’d do it, you find yourself strangely calm. Numb almost to the descriptions of stakes being driven into hearts or knives slicing through jugular veins. Lost in the way he throws your torch around with every passing phrase.
“Personally, I think a stake to the heart’s a bit cheap,” you eventually comment, watching him laugh. Hearing the way the sound quickly flutters out and hits your ears, making you smile despite the subject matter.
“It’s a classic for a reason, my dear.”
“Is it though? I mean, in my experience there’s far better ways to kill someone.”
“Is there, now? Do tell.”
You’re not sure if it’s just because you’ve grown used to the excessive violence throughout your journey or because Astarion’s tendencies have potentially rubbed off on you. Either way, as the two of you joke of his master’s demise you find yourself wondering if maybe such a result is even plausible. Sure, you’ve never killed a vampire. Hell, before Astarion you’re not even sure you’ve seen one up close, but for him, you’d be willing to try. Especially given the ever-growing lack of regard for your own safety.
“Honestly, the only thing that’s coming to mind is cutting him open and doing something to his innards.”
His brows shoot up in surprise, making you laugh. “Mm, a cold-blooded killer after my own heart.”
You roll your eyes, prompting his hand to subtly grip your own. Tangling your fingers together, he raises your palm carefully up to his lips and places a lingering kiss. One that tickles your flesh long after he’s gone, leaving you grinning like a fool, wondering if this is what love feels like.
You imagine it is. Deep beneath the surface, your chest is tight but not with fear. Instead, there’s only warmth that spreads —a growing sensation of heat that wraps around your lungs and heart. Filling you with this discomforting ache that only he can alleviate. So much so that it makes you want to scream sometimes, knowing he’s the cause. That somehow through his charms and tricks he’s managed to find a home inside your chest without permission. How he’s sliced you open with that wicked grin and crawled inside, calling you darling all the while.
It makes you wonder if he feels the same. If all the afflictions he’s given you are returned in some capacity. If when you look at him his mouth goes dry or his heart skips a beat. Or the longing to be near is indeed reciprocated and not just another plot to keep you close.
Because sometimes it’s hard to tell.
Throughout your journey, you’ve gone back and forth a hundred times, debating the possibilities —weighing the pros and cons of every interaction that you’ve ever had. Even now, knowing such trivial thoughts should be the last thing on your mind, you can’t help but wonder: does he care for you? Truly? Does he think of you? Does he look for you? Within his everyday thoughts does your presence linger in the background, waiting for the right moment to be put on full display for him to admire?
Does he love you?
“You know, if you ever need help with the whole murdering Cazador thing…”
It sounds ridiculous when you say it. So nonchalant and unfazed. Even you have to cringe at the way you trail off, waiting for him to speak. Praying that he’ll laugh or scoff or say literally anything to fill the silence you find yourselves walking through.
It takes him a while but eventually, you hear him quietly sigh, his gaze moving to view your nervous face. “It won’t be easy, you know. Cazador isn’t some vagabond with a blade, he’s—“
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He says it like a warning. As if he’s preparing to scold you for speaking out of term, narrowing his eyes with a huff. “Darling, I appreciate the enthusiasm but Cazador —he’s different. He’s not like the villains we’ve faced thus far. He isn’t motivated by greed or lust. The only thing he wants is power. Power over me —over you.”
He pauses then, swallowing hard. Making it apparent then that this hypothetical conversation of murderous jokes has turned into something far more real. That your offering is no longer a mere gesture of kindness but instead a potential act of solidarity. One that you extend further by running your thumb along his, applying a bit of pressure at the joint, feeling him twitch.
“You know there’s very little I wouldn’t do for you, right?”
In an instant his eyes are on you, staring in surprise, trying to process the words that’ve just spilled through your lips. At first, they’re focused on their position, fully immersed in the way you clear your throat, trying to suppress a nervous laugh as you continue to grip his hand. Not long after though, they start to go distant, moving past your face to view the trees behind you, fizzling out of reality so quick that all you can do is try to pull him back.
“I know you probably think I’m in idiot for even suggesting that fact that I may be capable of killing someone who spent centuries in control of so many people—“
“A bit, yes.”
You snort, watching him slowly start to return to you, his lips curling into a half smile you can’t help but reach out and touch, stopping your stride. “But I would do anything you asked of me. Even if it meant death, I would kill that bastard for you without hesitation. Whatever way you wanted, whether it’s decapitation or throwing him off a bloody cliff or—“
The light of the torch shifts as his hand slips out of yours, taking hold of your head to guide you to his lips. To press his mouth to yours with such need that the breath within your lungs is ripped out. Swallowed behind his starving tongue —lapping whatever life you have to offer as his hand drifts over your cheek, taking hold of your flesh to keep you from leaving.
Standing still, you can feel the tenseness of his frame as it all happens. How aside from his mouth and hand the rest of him refuses to move, prompting you to reach out, running your hands along his sides, coaxing him to relax.
When his body does, you slowly pull away, sucking in air like your life depends on it, watching with half-lidded eyes and swollen lips as he opens his mouth to speak, stuttering out something incoherent before swearing under his breath.
Narrowing your eyes further, you watch him struggle to speak, wondering what could be going on in that complicated brain of his as he turns his body, releasing you from his grasp in favour of moving forward again.
Immediately, it makes you drop your jaw in annoyance, watching his hands move towards his hair, gripping his locks in frustration as you hear him mutter to himself and continue to move, leaving you behind.
“Hold on, you’re just going to kiss me like that and walk away?”
He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge you as you yell, making you even angrier as you race toward him, placing a rough hand against his shoulder to gain his attention.
“Astarion—“
“Do you mean it?”
Your mouth twitches when he turns, looking at you with angry eyes. Scanning you with knitted brows filled with so much frustration all you can do is breathe and nod.
“Why?”
Because I love you.
“Because…”
“Tell me.”
Your mouth is drier than it’s ever been, making it hard for you to form the words as you feel your tongue poke out to wet your lips. “I—“
His shoulder shifts from your grasp in one quick motion, leaving you bare —untethered and weak against the aggression of his eyes staring you down. “You know, I’ve spent centuries coming up with all the ways I’d do it. How I’d kill him if given the chance.”
You watch his gaze move to the trees again, travelling elsewhere even though you’re here, standing still in front of him, already wondering how you'll get him back.
“Despite the scenarios being nothing but my foolish imagination running rampant, every time I end up suffering. Forced further into madness —pushed to the brink of what my body is capable of handling.” He shakes his head before raising it, blinking back tears that make your body ache. “Even in my wildest dreams I cannot win against his torment and yet… the moment you mention it… the moment you look at me with those eyes—”
Hearing him choke back a nervous laugh, this time it’s you who’s on him, clutching his face with both hands, pressing your thumbs to the inner corners of his eyes to wipe away the liquid that continues to pool.
“Why are you so willing to help me do the unimaginable?”
This time there’s no hesitation. No moment of thought that graces your mind as you smile up at him, pulling him further down with shaking hands to press your forehead to his. “It’s because I love you,” you tell him then. Barely above a whisper, you let it filter out like smoke, allowing it to envelop him entirely as you breathe and take him in, watching the way his lips unfurl and the anger laced within his features slips away. “And because the thought of allowing him to live after what he did to you fills me with a kind of rage I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.”
His hand moves to stroke the side of your neck. Gently, his fingers run across the bite marks he's inflicted, marking their positions with two subtle taps before they glide away, rooting themselves at the back of your head for support. Forcing you to remain in the moment, realizing what you’ve just said.
It’s hardly the right time to admit your feelings. But then again, given the circumstances, you quickly remember that there really isn’t one. Considering you're in the middle of a war, on your way to Ketheric’s base, it’s very unlikely you’ll have a spare moment to clear your mind and properly say all the things you’ve been itching to say.
Until the end, it’ll always feel like something’s missing —like you’ve forgotten an important phrase or detail. That whatever you say will never be enough to fully convey the weight of how he makes you feel each time he looks you up and down or makes you laugh.
Even as you stand before him now, holding him tight —watching the tears within his eyes threaten to spill once again, you know nothing you say will ever amount to the ache inside your chest, knowing that you’ve managed to give him the last sliver of hope you have to offer.
“I love you, Astarion,” you repeat then, praying this time it holds its weight. That the nervous rush inside your stomach passes through and all you’re left with is the kind of warmth you’ve only read about in stories.
His jaw is slack as you repeat your confession, shifting in a way that makes you more nervous than it should, watching him blink and hearing him breathe —doing everything but speak the words you want to hear as Shadowheart calls your name, pulling you both away to notice the annoyed look on her face as she tells you to hurry up.
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#a foolish lover's offering#astarion#astarion bg3#astarion fan fic#astarion series#astarion x female reader#astarion x reader#astarion x you#summer writes
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NSFW Alphabet - Bi-Han Edition
Pairing: Bi-Han/Reader
Authors Note: I look at this man and I can’t decide if I want him to choke me with his biceps or put him on his knees and make him call me mommy 🫠
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Bi-Han becomes extremely tender after sex, almost as if he’s a different person. When it’s just you two, bodies intertwined beneath the sheets, your head resting on his chest as you both slowly catch your breath, he can’t find it in himself to deny your beauty.
Your favorite moments are these, when the room is quiet save for the sound of the night and the rumble in his chest, when nothing matters except for you and Bi-Han. You live for these moments, revel in the way he softly strokes your hair and leaves kisses at your temple, the faintest smile gracing his normally stoic features.
The responsibility of Grandmaster is a tiring one, what you would give to be spoiled like this every day, to wake up and know that your boyfriend is waiting for you each morning, but perhaps that’s selfish to think about. For now, you can rest easy knowing that if nothing else, you can indulge in Bi-Han’s embrace now.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Bi-Han would be a liar if he said the sight of your ass in a nice pair of pants didn’t draw his attention. He sometimes thinks you do it on purpose, the way your hips sway when you walk past, enticing not only him but any man who becomes witness to your antics. It’s a point of pride to know that all they can do is watch and imagine while he is the only one in the world allowed to touch you, but it doesn’t still the jealousy within him when he knows the sight of you is enough to bring the attention of others. Perhaps he’ll teach you a lesson once he’s finished with his duties.
As for himself, it’s his hands. Hands that were trained for battle, hands that were trained to kill, he is very proud of his abilities. Recently his pride has been inflated when you mentioned you like his hands, not for their skill but for their size. Large enough to hold your close, or to press you further into the mattress.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
Possibly his most favorite feeling in the world is being able to cum inside you, watch the mess that slides from between your folds and onto the bed in a messy puddle. The sight of you fucked out and delirious, his own seed staining the sheets is enough to drive him mad. More often than not it inspires him to fuck you harder.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He secretly loves that you’re feisty, that you give him a hard time and you’re quick to disagree with him. He grew up as the first born son and because of that he’s been surrounded by those who simply take his words at face value. It’s led to a very boring life, but then you steamrolled through it, stubborn thing that you are; You don’t hesitate to talk back, make it a point of interest to call him out when he’s being an asshole, and in his eyes it only makes him love you even more. He hates the idea of a partner who just listens to him like the other Lin Kuei do, so your attitude is very refreshing.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Bi-Han’s had sex before, but solely for the pleasure of it, not because of any romantic inclination. In his mind he needed to fulfill an urge, and once he had his fill the lady of his choice would leave; a purely transactional exchange.
That being said, he is at the very least grateful for his previous encounters as they allow him to use what he’s learned on you.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
It depends on his mood that night. If he’s feeling more romantic he’ll take his time with some missionary, letting every last inch of him sink into your needy cunt, his deep groans loud in your ears. Bi-Han has never been one for mindless praise, so when the only thing that leaves his mouth is pure adoration you know in your heart he means every word.
However, if you’ve been acting like a brat? He’s teaching you a lesson, a master of discipline as the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. Face down, ass up, back arched, and it’s going to stay that way until he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson or until your legs give out, to which he’ll drape himself over you and fuck you until it hurts to breathe.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
While he might be more relaxed when it’s just the two of you, he is definitely not making jokes during sex, it’s almost scary how serious he is about your pleasure. He doesn’t understand the need for comedy with such an intimate affair and he might even take offense.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He is extremely groomed, from his face to his pubes. He has a regular grooming schedule and it’s a common sight to see him in the bathroom with a razor in hand.
“Bi-Han?” You call out sleepily, unaware of your husband’s whereabouts.
A hum, and a quiet “In here.” Is enough to give you an idea. Your feet slowly paddled across the floor, and in the bathroom you see him slowly going over his face with a razor.
You enjoy the moment for what it is before speaking. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with facial hair.”
“It is easier to wear a mask without hair in the way,” he says bluntly. You agree with him, but can’t help but tease him a bit more.
“If it matters, I think you’d look good with a beard.”
His hands stop just for a second before moving again, the faintest smile on his lips. “I will keep that in mind.”
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
You wouldn’t expect it, but he is surprisingly romantic during the deed. Sex is a private occasion, unlike what happens outside your bedroom Bi-Han allows himself to be vulnerable, to let his emotions run rampant. It often results in a very intimate affair where he can finally express himself to you without any fear of judgement, where he can kiss you to his hearts content and admire your beauty up close without the weight of Grandmaster on his shoulders.
If you told anyone they’d have a hard time believing it, but Grandmaster Bi-Han is secretly a softy, at least where you’re concerned. Even if he seems standoffish in public, you know better.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
Before you two were dating he would find himself dreaming of you in various compromising positions to the point that he felt angry at both himself for indulging in those thoughts, and you for occupying them.
There would always be a pang of guilt that ran through him knowing that he just touched himself to the thought of you, but he truly couldn’t help himself—you were just too much of a distraction.
After you two become a couple he’s become far more accepting of his needs, but even so he’d prefer you were there to assist him, so he can wait for a while.
The entire day has been trying, from morning to night Bi-Han hasn’t had a moments peace, not as long as you were around.
He thinks maybe you are a witch, that you’ve casted some kind of spell on him, a vile magic that makes his heart beat faster and his tongue turn to lead. Racing thoughts of you and only you.
Your words, your touch, your body—it’s enough to distract him, and nothing distracts him.
The entire day is trying, so when he falls to the bed and thinks of you again, his hands immediately falls towards his cock to rectify the issue.
He curses his weakness, his shirt sandwiched between his teeth, a feeble attempt to stifle his moans. He curses you in the same breath, you and your haunting figure. Faster and faster does his hand move against his hard cock, until his racing mind is filled with thoughts of you milking him for all he’s worth.
Before he’s awash with pleasure, trembling with satisfaction, the last thing he curses is himself for being too cowardly to admit his desire for you.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Breeding: He wants kids, he wants you to know he wants kids, and he wants you to know how good you would look with a belly full of them. Even if you’re not ready for kids or you’re taking birth control it’s not going to stop him from coming inside you, his idea of aftercare is running two fingers between your dripping cunt, stuffing you full of them and kissing your tears away.
“I know you’re sensitive dear, but it’s necessary, we need to make sure not to waste a single drop.”
Brat taming: If you’re a brat, enjoy yourself. He loves your attitude but when you push him too far he won’t hesitate to force you on your knees and remind you exactly who’s in charge in this relationship.
“It would have been easier for you to admit your need,” he groans, his heavy cock slapping against your open mouth, the taste of salt on your tongue. “But you had to make this difficult. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”
Marking: he’s more conservative about marks on himself but on you it’s free real estate. His favorite ones are the scratches you leave on his back.
You’ve fallen asleep minutes ago, but Bi-Han is still awake, stretching his back and reveling in the familiar ache that stings his skin. Your nails are sure to leave a mark, a trophy he’ll admire in the mirror when he gets dressed tomorrow.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
His bedroom mainly. You’d have to really rile him up to convince him to fuck you in public, and even then it’s a risky affair. He enjoys when you moan for him, but times like this call for stealth, something you lack when you’re being fucked.
His solution for this is gagging you. His fingers get the job done, or he’ll muffle your lips with his own.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
You pretending as if you don’t know the effect you have on him, when you brush against him in public, when you bend over just a bit too much to be innocent. The front is amusing, but what’s more amusing is how easily it crumbles apart when you’re put on your knees.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Sharing you with anyone else, you’re his and his only. He also wouldn’t draw blood on you.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Preference in receiving rather than giving, but when his thoughts get too loud and he needs a moment of peace and quiet the first place he’ll settle is between your legs.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Rough, possessive even—long, deep strokes that punch the air out of your lungs and make you see stars. He wants the world to know who you belong to, which is evident from the amount of hickeys and bruises left on your person after the fact. If you leave some on him he won’t mind, even if he is technically supposed to hide them it’s unsurprising to see the faintest little purple mark peeking out beneath his collar, a not-so-subtle reminder.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He doesn’t like them, flat out. He knows a quickie is not enough to satisfy his appetite of you, he’d sooner wait until he’s certain neither of you have any prior obligations to devour you as he sees fit.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Surprisingly open to experimentation. It’s almost like training in his mind, a game of figuring out what makes you tick, what makes you see stars and cry out for him. Needless to say he’s very proficient at this game.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
God bless that Lin Kuei training; hours, although he is aware of your own limits and will gladly let you take a break should you need one.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
I feel like you would have to own them yourself or you would have to introduce them to him. He might take offense to the idea of having anything that isn’t him bring you pleasure but you showed him the joys of using one and now he’s more open to the idea.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
Oh he’s fucking evil, for such a stoic man you would never expect it but he gets off to seeing you wanting him, needing him. There’s always a plan brewing in that head of his.
Remember when I said you introduced him to the idea of toys in the bedroom? He may or may not force you to sit on a vibrator when you’re being bratty as a form of punishment while he leaves you tied to the bed. Only when he’s certain you’ve learned your lesson will he turn it off, but by then you’re a shaky, sweaty pile of your former self. Be careful what you wish for.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
Groaner, deep growls in an even deeper tone, you can feel the rumble of him in his chest like an engine. He gets so breathy when he’s close too, it’s a sight to behold.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
Secretly wants to be dominated, but will never say it out loud, you’ve got to figure that out yourself. When you finally do don’t expect him to make it easy for you either, he’ll fight you on every command and order until you either tie him down or gag him (He actually enjoys the thrill of the fight, he’s kind of a brat in that way.)
“I never thought the Grandmaster would enjoy being so exposed,” you giggle, admiring how the crimson rope compliments his skin, nearly the same shade as the blush that runs from his face down to his neck.
He tugs at his restraints, once, twice, before groaning at the feeling of your hands around his cock. It’s far too slow for his taste, he needs more and you know it, his head falling back when you squeeze his shaft and watch enamored as pre-cum dribbles down your fingers.
“Damn you,” he says, groaning when you respond with another firm grip. He takes a shuddering breath, cursing your name, and then begging for more in the same breath. All bark and no bite.
“You sure look like you’re enjoying yourself,” you muse, swiping your thumb against his leaking slit. “Look at that, making a mess of yourself.”
There’s a feral edge to the smile on his face, enjoying this little game. “These bonds cannot hold me for long. You know that, don’t you?”
Your eyebrow raises at that. “Course I do. But you’re not going to leave, are you Bi-Han?”
The air is filled with tension, and with his silence you have your answer, your hand moving faster as his hips desperately try to meet your rhythm.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
6.3 inches, circumsized, veiny at the base. My man is THICK, it’s heavy when you hold it in your hands and almost makes you wonder how he can walk straight, and his tip turns a pretty shade of rose when he’s aroused, reaching down to his shaft as if his cock is blushing. That thing should be registered as a weapon.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
If he could he’d have you pressed into the bed all day, but responsibilities come first. He can deceive you with how much self control he has but trust and believe he is almost always ready to go.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
Not quick at all, he revels in taking his time with you and refuses to sleep until he knows you’re taken care of. It’s a rule of his to watch you and make sure you’re safe before he succumbs himself, he’ll say it’s because of his life as an assassin but in reality he just enjoys seeing your blissful state.
Graphics by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics
#robo writes#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat x reader#mortal kombat smut#Bi-Han#bi-han x reader#bi-han smut#subzero#subzero x reader#subzero smut#mortal kombat 1 smut
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The Old Guard AU where the poly!141 are a group of immortals who seemingly cannot die so they travel around for centuries fighting battles, wars, and injustice.
John Price, the eldest of them all, the first known immortal. He cannot entirely remember how old he is or anything of his mortal life. There are memories that he carries of fighting against the Romans in what he believes is present day England. Eventually though everything began to bleed together and he almost gave up hope entirely until one fateful event.
The Battle of Culloden. It is where he meets Simon Riley and Johnny MacTavish.
Simon is a lieutenant for the King, a British red coat, different from the rest if only by the black bandana with the white paint of a skull covering his face. A man who Price encounters before his death. Something about him pulling the immortal to find him upon the battlefield. That is, of course by fate, where Price first meets Johnny MacTavish as well. A proud Scott fighting for independence. Face marked by warpaint, dirt, and blood as he kills Simon with a battle cry upon his lips. And in a moment that Price cannot comprehend being reality in its entirety or flashes of the new immortals being bound to him he witnesses this: Johnny kills Simon. Simon rises and kills Johnny. Over and over the two fight, killing each other and healing, until finally they pause. As if realizing that neither is truly dying they hold each other, both looking up to Price just standing over them. A calm silhouette against the backdrop of brutal battle.
Something telling them that he knows.
Of course, none of them understand that they are bound together until later that night when they dream of the other. Price. Simon. Johnny. Living and dying. Plagued by their personal inflictions and differences. Causing Price to have to hunt the two down. Explaining that they have to all be together. They have a job to do. A greater purpose that goes beyond Johnny not wanting to work with Brits and Simon not wanting to work with anyone. (Not that John would ever admit that in truth...he just didn't want to be alone anymore.)
And by the time they dream of a fourth, the consequences of Culloden is gone from them against the sounds of a world at war.
World War II is where they find Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. Dying from a gunshot wound after freeing a camp of POWs from the Germans. Price, Simon, and Johnny race across no mans land and trenches. Across borderlines and battlegrounds to find him. It takes nearly ten days across foot before they come across Gaz collapsed upon his knees drenched in blood. Surrounded by dead German soldiers. A sob shaking him as Price settles a hand across his shoulder. The three immortals explaining that everything would be alright. That Gaz wasn't alone anymore. He'd never be alone again.
And when that war ended well the wars never end. However, the 141 as Price names them certainly didn't expect to gain another member, but one night upon a cargo train within the middle of the desert, they suddenly gain you.
Your death awakens them from sleep far worse than if the train itself had crashed.
Price watches you die, sees the wound that kills you, the pain and fear flashing across your eyes. Johnny catches a glimpse of your name tag and the features of your face; his hands hazardously sketching you upon a notepad he had stuffed away. Gaz quickly tries describing your environment and clothing. Simon looks upon them all with darkened eyes, his hand grasping his throat, as he announces that he felt you die. A statement that has Price standing as he suddenly realizes where you must be and what had led you to your death.
No more words were needed for them to all agree to find you no matter what.
#asks and request are open#i have a whole au set in my mind palace for this#task force 141#poly 141#john price x reader#johnny soap mctavish x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#john x simon x johnny x gaz x reader#old guard au#cod mwii#reader insert
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Surviving NNN
Part Seven: Minju's offer
The sound of your alarm wakes you up. With a heavy sigh, you turn it off.
You were close. So close. Minju was lying on the mattress. Almost completely naked. Only wearing a red thong. Dreaming about you. How you fuck her. And yet, you were able to escape.
You still don't get how you managed to pull it off. But you are proud of yourself. You didn't cheat on Karina and you didn't get yourself off, thinking about the others.
But as soon as you open the door, you realize it's gonna be hard and long last day. Today is the 30th, which means two things. Karina is coming back tonight and this is your last day. The last day of this ridiculous month. You are gonna kill the person that came up with this shit.
"Good morning, oppa."
Yena gives you sweet smile as you leave your room. But your gaze only lingers on her face for a second. The young woman is on her way to the shower. And, true to her attempt to seduce you, the only thing she is wearing is an old, white shirt of yours.
You don't wear it anymore, because it's a little see through. If you don't wear anything underneath, everything is visible. That's the case for Yena right now. And she isn't wearing anything underneath at all.
Her breasts are way smaller than Karina's, that's for sure. But they do have their own charm. Letting your eyes travel further, you see her center underneath the shirt. It's neatly trimmed, her snatch looking more inviting than it should.
You are able to mumble a quick good morning as well. You are sure that Yena is doing this on purpose.
When she walks in front of you as you head towards the kitchen, you see the outlines of her butt quite well. If you could just squeeze her cheeks....
Clearing your thoughts, you shake your head as you walk into the kitchen.
"Hi, there."
Minju has changed. Although you don't know if that's good or bad. It seems like she showered this morning. As you walk past her to get a glass of water, you smell her shampoo. You like the fruity scent in her hair.
Minju is dressed a little more appropriate now. Her hair, still wet, is cascading down her naked back. Her top looks like it's completely backless. Only a small string decorates her back to hold the top in place. The black cloth looks like it could drop any second, if you would just pull at the string.
Her shorts are as short as ever. Minju has beautiful thighs and she seems to know that. She keeps showing them of to you. Her red thong is replaced by a black one, which completes her all black outfit. How do you know? Her waistbands are high enough to decorate her tummy area.
"I'm making pancakes again. You liked them so much, daddy."
You spin around.
"What?"
Minju looks at you, tilting her head in confusion.
"What is it, oppa?"
Did you just hear her wrong?
"What did you say?"
"I'm making pancakes?"
"After that."
"You like them?"
"Anything else?"
You see her ponder for a second, before shaking her head.
"Nothing else."
Did you really hear it wrong? It feels like you are going crazy. Why would Minju call you that?
Minju glares at the back of your head as you walk away.
Why are you so dumb? Can't you pick up on the most obvious of hints? She was lying almost completely naked in front of you last night. You could've just slit her thong to the side. Her dripping wet pussy would have welcomed you.
But you left? A fire is burning in the young angel's mind. How can you pass up on that? She even pretended to dream about you.
Minju scoffs. Anyone else would've cream pied her already. Then why is she trying? A moment of doubt rushes through her head. Do you genuinely not like her that way?
You walk towards your room, ready to change into your outfit for today. Minju's worries fly away as she sees you pulling your top over your head. The muscles in your back make her wet. She can only guess how long and how much work it took to look like this. Karina is one lucky girl.
While getting dressed, you are happy that you already evaded the two girls' attacks. But there is still one more. You try to prepare yourself for Chaewon.
But you aren't prepared for the scene that is happening outside your room. Opening the door, you see Yena walking back towards her room.
After showering, she threw on a small, tight tank top. The fact that she still isn't wearing a bra is obvious. Her nipples are poking through the yellow fabric.
Yena's shorts could rival Minju's in length and tightness. The green dolphin shorts show of all of the skin on her thighs, her butt cheeks barely covered.
You are about to run back into your room, when you see Yena open the door. Chaewon appears behind the door, standing in the middle of their room.
It looks like she is just getting dressed. Her black panties are decorated with a white waistband reading "Le Sserafim". She is reaching behind her back, closing the hooks on the back of her bra. The lace around the edges give her a more sexy look.
You turn away quickly. You don't want to get caught.
After Yena closes the door behind her, she chuckles at Chaewon.
"You tink you look better than me?"
"Of course I do. I'm way prettier."
Yena scoffs.
"You are not just ugly, but also dumb. Why would you wear underwear? Just to make it harder for (y/n) to fuck you? Look at this."
Yena let's the strings of her top fall from her shoulders and pushes the center of her shorts to the side.
"Now he can fuck me."
"You are a whore, you know that?"
"And you're not?"
Chaewon raises her chin.
"I'm not. I just really like getting fucked."
"That's the same thing, dumbass."
The two of them glare at each other. Just another day of Chaewon and Yena being roomies.
You walk back into the kitchen on your way to the bathroom. Chaewon is still inside your mind.
"Do you want me stuffed with cream?"
You stop in your tracks, looking at Minju.
"Excuse me?"
"I asked you, if you want your pancakes stuffed with whipped cream."
"Yeah, sure. Thanks Minju."
"No problem, oppa. But I think you should go the doctor. Your hearing seems to be a little worse than before."
With a heavy sigh you close the bathroom door behind you.
Until you leave to go to your company, everything seems normal. Of course it was still a struggle to see the three of them dressed like that, you got over the initial shock. They kept dressing like this for the last few days after all.
"Good morning, Jin-wol oppa!"
You are greeted by an energetic shout as you enter your recording studio in your company's building.
"Wonyoung-ssi. You ready to go?"
She nods excitedly, having waited for you to arrive.
Being in the same company with you is a blessing for Wonyoung. Why? Because she is a huge star. She followed all your music since your debut and even had one of your songs from your recent mini album on her Instagram story. Needles to say, a lot of people listened to it.
A couple of days ago, your company gave the green light for your project. A collaboration between the most famous male and female idol of the company. There is no confirmation on the album being actually released, but you and Wonyoung give it you all.
She is a quite energetic person, always ready to go as soon as the two of you meet up.
"Do you want me to record the ad libs today?"
"Yeah. We will do those first. Maybe we can record the rest as well."
Wonyoung gives you a thumbs up as she enters the booth. Your phone lights up, signaling that you got a message. From Karina. It's a picture of her at the airport.
"Can't wait to see you tonight. How was I able to spend the whole month without you? Miss you lots."
She sends you a couple of kissing emojis and red hearts. You respond in kind, before focusing on Wonyoung.
You nod for her to start as you play the song. This one could be your title track. You have worked for a while on it and are proud how it turned out. Now, the only thing to do is finish the lyrics and record your singing and rapping.
Wonyoung starts humming during the parts where she is supposed to. The two of your record it a couple of times, before listening to it. You already added the intro.
"Starship."
That's your voice.
"Let's get it!"
Wonyoung's cute voice makes you chuckle. You are honored to be able to work with such a talented singer.
Her humming sets the tone of the song. It's a quite upbeat one, her ad libs adding a deeper layer to it.
Your see your phone lighting up again as you already stand inside the recording booth.
"Can you check it for me?"
It might be Karina, telling you that her flight got delayed or something.
Wonyoung nods as she takes your phone into her hand and turns it on. You see her eyes wander over the screen, her cheeks starting to flush.
"Wonyoung-ssi?"
"Huh?"
She looks up at you, wide eyed.
"Right, right."
She collects herself, before reading the message.
"I-I hope the girls were good company. C-Can't..."
Wonyoung looks up at you for a second, before looking down again.
"C-Can't wait for midnight. I want to get drowned in all that built up cum."
You stand there, Wonyoung still looking down, not quite sure what to do. This is embarrassing.
"S-Sorry. I shouldn't have made you read it to me."
"N-No, it's fine."
Her cheeks don't return to their original color, but she looks up again. You are afraid this is gonna make working together real awkward.
"Are you... Do you participate in, you know, NNN?"
You are surprised that Wonyoung is asking this and you ponder for a moment if you should tell her or not.
"Yes. Yes, I do."
"I see."
A teasing grin forms on her lips.
"That's why Minju unnie borrowed that underwear from me."
What? You know Wonyoung is talking about the red thong. You knew it was unusual for Minju to wear stuff like this. But Wonyoung? Probably even less likely.
You always saw her as a cute junior. More like a little sister. A picture of her in that red thong enters your mind.
You try to get it out of your head, clearing your throat.
"You wanna keep going?"
Wonyoung nods her head. You are glad she doesn't ask any further questions.
It's now 10 pm on November 30th. There are only two hours left. Two hours you have to go through, until you are free.
"This one is empty."
You follow Minju's finger with yours, trying to see where she is pointing at. Finally seeing the empty parking space, you back into it.
"Let's go, oppa."
Minju seems a little too excited. She desperately wanted to join you, when you told her you are going to pick up Karina from the airport. Yena and Chaewon both have late schedules, so they couldn't come. But the five of you booked a table at a restaurant to eat dinner together. The two of them will hopefully make it in time.
You and Minju walk towards the luggage area. The airport isn't as full as it usually is, which means the two of you can walk around without being covered by masks and hats.
The big screen on your right shows that Karina's flight is just about to land.
"Do you want a coffee or something?"
Minju shakes her head. You see her looking around and then at the big screen.
"Oppa."
Now she looks up at you.
"You are not dumb, are you?"
You raise an eyebrow.
"You know what's been going on throughout the last month, right?"
Minju speaks a little faster than usual. As if she is nervous.
"The three of you kept trying to get me into bed."
Minju's cheeks flush red.
"So you do know?"
"Yeah. It got more obvious over time."
Minju nods, silently admitting that their hints weren't really subtle.
"Then why didn't you just give in? NNN is just a stupid game."
"Is it now?"
You lean down a little, Minju's eyes growing wide as your face moves closer to hers.
"Is that why my TV remote was all sticky?"
She quickly turns around, hiding her face in her down jacket.
You are surprised at how embarrassed she is. She was lying in your living room, only wearing a thong, waiting for you to fuck her. And now that you tell her, you caught her masturbating, she gets all shy.
"I can tell you, why I didn't give up."
You sigh, waiting for Minju to slowly appear underneath her jacket.
"Because I made a bet with Karina."
"What kind of bet?"
"If I succeed, I get a special gift."
"Do you know what it is?"
You shake your head. Minju bites her lip.
She knows exactly what it is. But she doesn't tell you. Her own, individual reward way more satisfying in her own eyes.
"Oppa."
Minju holds onto the sleeve of your jacket, looking up at you. Her big eyes pleading.
"We still have time, you know? I won't tell anyone if you won't."
Minju takes a step forward, sliding her hands into your jacket.
"Just use me as a cum dump until Karina is here."
You feel her pressing her body against yours.
"Minju-"
"Please, oppa. There is a bathroom right there."
You shake your head. Minju's advances are powerful, but you only have to hold out for a couple of minutes longer.
"No, Minju. I would never cheat on Karina."
You try to get her hands off you, but she has already interlocked her fingers behind your back. She is barely able to reach around you, her face squished against your chest.
"Karina said it's okay. She said we are allowed to seduce you."
She said what? You are not sure, if you can believe Minju. On one hand, Karina probably is the kind of person, who would suggest something like this. On the other hand, you don't know if that's just a way for Minju to get you to give up.
"You are lying."
"I'm not, oppa. I swear."
"Do you have proof?"
Minju huggs you tighter, her hips rubbing against you.
"Isn't the fact that Karina unnie brought us over proof enough?"
If you think about, it was really weird. Why would the three of them stay at your place? It's not like they don't have their own apartments or dorms.
"Please?"
Minju looks up at you, giving you her best puppy eyes.
Even if Karina set all of this up, you still don't want to lose. The grant prize must be something incredible.
"I won't fuck you, Minju."
The young angel pouts in disappointment. She can feel your hard cock through both of your pants. So close and yet so far. Her wetness is increasing as she keeps being so close to you.
"Just get me off then. Please. I can't take it any longer."
"Minju, can't you wait until I'm done. It's a little unfair to ask that of me."
You don't know about the bet the girls have going on between them. Chaewon and Karina both lost already. You did catch Minju at least trying to climax. What about Yena? Did she cum already? If not, what is her reward?
"It's okay, oppa."
Minju takes your hand guides towards her ass. You are now very aware that you are still in public.
"It's not cheating if you just make me cum. Especially if Karina says it's okay. You don't have to nut. You can do that after today. Please?"
Minju hasn't entirely given up yet. She still hopes she can convince you to cum in her, once she has made you desperate enough.
#kpop#kpop smut#kpop girls#kpop gg#male reader#le sserafim#aespa#karina#aespa karina#chaewon le sserafim#chaewon#kpop yena#choi yena#yena#izone minju#kim minju#minju
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what do you think of this post about Gale? I saw it today and idk how to feel about it. h t t p s : // www. tumblr. com / galahadwilder / 741497332636467200
I couldn't disagree with it more, to be honest.
First of all, and I can't stress this enough, Mystra doesn't care about her followers. She cares about the state of the Weave and nothing more. If her followers don't worship her, if they're not useful to her, if they don't serve her purpose, they mean nothing to her. After she abandoned Gale, she had no interest in him until she realised she could use him to stop the Absolute—and she only wanted to stop the Absolute because it threatened the Weave. In general, Mystra doesn't care what people use magic for either, be it the most admirable heroics or the most depraved insanity you can imagine.
Case and point: Lorroakan. He is an arrogant wizard, far worse than Gale could ever hope to be, who uses magic for pure evil. When he beat Rolan, he undoubtedly used magic to do it. Do you think Mystra cared? Nope. You can help that nutjob achieve his goals, kill a demigod, turn him immortal, and give him free reign to abuse magic any way he wishes, but do you think Mystra cares? Nope. She doesn't. She doesn't care about people unless they benefit her. In fact, all three iterations of Mystra have a vast history of grooming, flat out 🍇, and the forced impregnation of unsuspecting mortal women. Despite being neutral good, Mystra is and has always been extremely vain, selfish, jealous, and problematic.
With that in mind, I'd like to break this post down piece by piece. Also, please be aware that when I use the word "you", I don't mean you specifically, anon. I'm more so addressing anyone who might be reading.
PS: Please no one harass this person's post. Their opinion is their own, and it's very respectful. At the end of the day, we're just talking about a video game.
Mystra didn't tell Gale not to juggle the torches. She didn't even tell him it was a torch. She let him go on believing it was a part of her missing Weave. Had she told him the truth, he would've stayed away. That's why he's so shocked in Act 3, when she finally reveals it's the Karsite Weave. He had no idea, and she likely never intended to tell him. She didn't before he went off in search of it, and she didn't the entire time he was locked away in his tower, scared and suffering. I can't for the life of me figure out why she wouldn't warn him, but I can only assume it's because she expected absolute obedience, or because she was getting bored of him and wanted him to mess up.
Whatever her reasons, she didn't tell Gale to leave the orb alone because he was "worthy" already. He clearly wasn't in her eyes, because he wanted her to see him as an equal. He wanted her to share her knowledge with him, which is perfectly fair in a healthy relationship. If you're dating a god and they treat you like a worshipper—that's all you are to them. A worshipper. A plaything. You're beneath them. You're unworthy. She told Gale to leave the orb alone because she wanted him to be complacent. She wanted to keep him in servitude. That's what she wants from all of her followers, though it's even worse when it's her lover.
In almost every story where a mortal loves a god, the mortal is either ascended into the heavens or the god gives up their divinity. And this isn't even specific to gods, but also vampires, werewolves, elves, and so on. Arwen, for example, gives up her immortality to be with Aragorn. Bella becomes a vampire to be with Edward. Hercules gives up his divinity to be with Meg. Elisa Esposito becomes aquatic to be with the creature. These are common tropes because it makes the couples equal.
Mystra contradicts herself by saying Gale was "always worthy", because her actions don't reflect it. He was a worthy distraction from her job, sure, but not worthy enough for her to treat him like an equal. So in order to prove it to her, to prove his love and devotion, he went after the one thing he knew she wanted—her missing Weave. Yes, she told him not to, and I agree he should've respected that, but this is on par with a woman telling her husband not to buy a bracelet she really, really wants because it's too expensive. If your husband worked extra hours and saved up enough to buy you that bracelet, would you divorce him?
Gale was completely unaware of the danger. He basically thought he was getting Mystra a bracelet. Had she taken the time to explain it to him, the whole catastrophe could have been avoided. He was just a hopeless romantic who wanted to surprise his girlfriend and prove he belonged at her side. The same girlfriend who very well could have made him her equal and shared her knowledge, but chose not to. Why? Because she's selfish. She didn't want an equal, she wanted a servant. We know this because, if you romance and ascend Gale, he will ascend you alongside him and give you your own domain! Mystra had the power to do this, or at least the ability to slowly ease him into it, but she refused. No matter how much he pleaded and proved his devotion to her, she refused.
Mystra did not save Gale when the orb embedded itself in his chest. He survived only because it fed on his gifts. He says as much, and so does she when you go to see her at the Temple. That's why, when we first meet him, he admits he used to be better at magic. He was once exceedingly powerful, but the orb basically knocked him down to level one. Mystra was perfectly happy to let him scramble to find items to absorb, knowing that he would inevitably run out and erupt. When we give him his third item in Act 1, the orb is becoming quenchless, and he knows his time is nigh. Mystra has nothing to do with satiating the orb until Act 2 and 3, and only because he becomes her wild card.
Gale: Mystra will consider forgiveness?
Elminster: She will consider ... what she considers to be forgiveness.
Even Elminster, her most faithful Chosen, knows her "forgiveness" isn't really forgiveness. It's an ultimatum. Do this for me and be welcomed into my hall, or die and literally go to hell. Why would Mystra make this offer? Well, because why else would Gale agree to kill himself only to end up in the Wall of the Faithless? How would that motivate him? Mystra didn't make this offer out of the kindness of her heart, she made it because she was desperate. Had the opportunity never presented itself, she would've let him die and suffer for all eternity, and possibly take hundreds of innocent people with him in the blast. She. Doesn't. Care. 🤷♀️
Now, one could argue Gale was asking for too much, but I'm going to have to call bullshit on that. First of all, Mystra showed him things no mortal has ever seen. It's only fair he'd want to share her world and learn as much as possible. Imagine if the Doctor from Doctor Who picked up some random people and took them on breathtaking adventures, but the audience got mad at them for wanting to see as much as they could. Amy, Clara, Rose, etc.—none of them could live a normal life after meeting him, and they wanted to learn as much about the universe as possible. But everyone loves those characters. They don't get mad. There's even several episodes where the companions call the Doctor out for not treating them as equals, and he admits he's wrong for doing that and adjusts his way of thinking.
I would argue that the only real divide between Mystra and Shar/Vlaakith is that Mystra doesn't inflict physical pain ... most of the time. That's it. Vlaakith and Shar only care about themselves and the effectiveness of their followers, but the exact same applies to Mystra. She is the Weave, and she only cares about the Weave; therefore, she only cares about herself. She had ample opportunity to help Gale or tell him the truth, but she didn't until it was convenient for her. The gods of D&D are basically the Greek Pantheon gods—a bunch of assholes toying with mortals, regardless of their alignment. The odd one is decent, but most are only out for themselves and their rule. Now, I will concur that Mystra is hardly the worst deity (in fact, she's unfortunately one of the better ones), but she's still not great and Gale is her victim.
To get a little controversial, I think the writers made a mistake. I know what they were going for, but I think they lost it along the way. At first, I was ready to stand with everyone and admit he belonged in the quintessential "overreaching wizard full of hubris" category, but upon researching the lore, getting to know Gale better, and doing several different playthroughs, I've come to vehemently disagree. First of all, before 5E (the current D&D edition), becoming a god was the ultimate goal for a lot of players, and that was perfectly acceptable, with many DMs providing celestial paths to make it possible. Moreover, many of the current gods were once human themselves, including Mystra!
Second, it's only hubris if you fail. Gale can ascend. He can succeed. Although it's not the canon outcome I would choose for him, he is right about the crown. He does his research and figures out how to reforge it. And he doesn't seek godhood to be worshipped, he seeks it to either free himself (and all mortals) from Mystra's chains, or for her to acknowledge and love him as an equal. His arrogance stems from insecurity; an insecurity Mystra herself planted and cultivated, and in the end he's not really arrogant atfter all. Does him wanting to be Mystra's equal make him selfish? Well, I suppose that depends on how you answer these questions:
Is your partner equal to you? If you don't think so, why are you leading them on? Why wouldn't you take steps to help them become your equal? Why are you holding them back instead of propping them up? If they show interest in your life, in your world, in the things you can do, why would you keep it to yourself, especially when you have the time and resources to share it?
Just some ambrosia for thought. 😉
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Tea Culture
Genre: Drama
Rating: Teen
Pairings: Bi-Han x Reader
Warnings: stalking behavior, background death, sassy reader
Summary: Bi-Han sees everything you do.
I got the idea for the reader from tea.culture4 on tiktok. She’s hilarious. Watch her!! I put a link in the story to the specific video I was thinking about.
Note - I'm not your guardian. You read what you want. I can't stop you. If you don't heed the warnings, too bad for you, not me.
He watches you. It unnerves you to no end. Whenever he and his brothers come to Madam Bo’s, you feel his eyes on you. Bi-Han, the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster, has a staring problem. You have a problem with him. Yet the more you’re mean to him, the more he seems to enjoy it. At least, it seems like it. He hasn’t killed you yet for the tea you purposely spilled on him, or the forgetting to serve him his portion of dinner. No, he enjoys it. His brothers laugh about it. Madam Bo has stopped scolding you about it. His big tips say everything he won’t.
But, your problem with him runs deeper than his staring problem or his lack of social skills. It started when you flaunted having a date after your shift. You were excited - Jin was beautiful. He was well-spoken, nice, and had a great ass. You checked it out every time you saw him bend over. Your date had gone well, too. Jin took you to an Italian-style place. It was a city over. You’d never had anything like it before. His smile lit up your whole room as he watched you enjoy the layered noodle and tomato sauce dish. He promised to take you to more exotic food places. Maybe, even out of the country.
You rewarded his generosity with your talented mouth.
A note had been left in your bag the next day: “I see everything you do.” A few nights later Jin was found dead in the river next to your small town.
You had the idea it was Bi-Han, especially when no one mentioned Jin again. It was almost as if he’d been erased from the town.
Your second boyfriend possibly met the same fate - you couldn’t be sure. He had spoken about leaving the country for a medical degree. He was gone and had left you a simple note of goodbye, however you were suspicious. Why didn’t he tell you in person? Why had he hinted at a life with you when he left?
You chewed on your bottom lip as you glared over at Bi-Han and his brothers. They were at Madam Bo’s for dinner. They’d also asked for one of your famous tea shows. You loved tea and enjoyed showing your skills off. Just not for the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster. You were pushed out of your thoughts when Madam Bo thrust your tea tray into your hands.
“Go, girl. The sooner you perform, the sooner they will leave.”
You snorted at her words. Madam Bo liked them and always questioned you on your behavior. She didn’t understand. You couldn’t make her. With a deep huff, you plastered a huge, fake smile on your face and walked to the Grandmaster’s table. He sat at a large table, his brothers on either side. It was on a loft above the main floor. You purposely kept quiet when Kuai Liang and Tomas greeted you happily.
Sitting down across from them, you set the tray down. The porcelain rattled. Each cup you took off to display made a clink with the force of your movements. (https://www.tiktok.com/@tea.culture4/video/7317142997303315754?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7261002111268783659) You did your set, but as messily as you could. There was tea and water all over the table by the time you were done. The lid to the teapot was on the floor. You’d eaten more of the rice cakes than they had. Giving them a sassy smile, you got up and left. You hadn’t even served Bi-Han tea. You drank it from the cup yourself.
Avoiding the table for the rest of the night, you left the clean-up to another waiter. Sitting in the kitchen munching on some rice and reading a very worn copy of your favorite book after the restaurant closed, you looked up when you heard a shuffle of feet. It was Bi-Han. The fact he made noise meant he wanted you to know he was there. Suddenly, you realized no one else was in the kitchen. For the first time, you felt fear around him. Your eyes trailed over his hulking frame. He held a package in his hand. Silently, he set it on the table and pushed it towards you. Swallowing your feelings, you reached for the perfectly wrapped…gift? The item was wrapped in a blue silk scarf with what looked like pink flowers stitched in. Your name was beautifully written across a label. With shaking hands, you untied the scarf.
It was a book. Not just any book, but the sequel to the one you were reading. You hadn’t even known there was more to the story. Your fingers traced the title with reverence. You wondered if there was more after this one.
Looking back up at Bi-Han, you frowned. “Why did you give me this?”
“So you can see the rest of the story.” He answered, face and tone as neutral as ever.
You looked between him and the book a few times. “Do you expect me to thank you? You might get killed.” You rolled your eyes, throwing the fact you knew what he’d been up to with your two boyfriends.
The Grandmaster shrugged. “I expect nothing. Simply that you enjoy yourself. When you’re finished, there’s a third one.”
“I don’t want any more gifts from you.” You scowled at him.
His eyes narrowed. The fear you felt earlier was back.
“That’s not for you to decide.” He said. There was a pause as he tapped his fingers against the table. “We enjoyed your performance tonight. I’d like to see another tomorrow. Good night, Petal.”
You said nothing and watched him leave. As soon as he was out of your sight you wrapped the book back in the scarf and put it in your bag. You hated him, his stupid nickname for you, and the fact he watched you enough to care about what you read. Having your suspicions confirmed, you finally let it sink in he had his sights on you. The best you could hope for was he’d find someone more interesting and forget about you. Until then, you’d make sure to keep giving him the worst attitude possible.
He seemed to like it. A small part of you loved that fact.
#bi-han#bi han#mortal kombat 1#mortal kombat 1 (2023)#bihanxreader#yandere!bihan#yandere!bi-han#Yandere!bi han#bi han subzero#bi han x reader#bi-han x reader
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part one
———
Lance keeps his word — it doesn’t take long for him to really get the hang of his telepathy thing, and then he really is in Keith’s head more often than he isn’t.
That’s not entirely fair, Keith supposes. He has a pretty good hang of the telepathy thing too, and Lance showed him early on how to put up a pretty thick mental block if he needs some privacy, or even just a break. He knows how to keep his mindscape quiet and personal, if need be.
But the thing is…he rarely bothers.
He likes having Lance in his head, or vice versa. It’s crazy, and he never would have expected it of himself, but having the constant presence of his best friend in the back of his head; talking, humming, or just being, has turned into a massive comfort.
The desperate loneliness he grew up with, although slowly disappearing over the years he’s had Voltron, has faded into almost nothingness. He likes Lance’s noise in his head. It makes communication during battle a lot easier, too.
He’s yet to feel the rest of the team as strongly in his head — he certainly can’t hold conversations with anyone else — but he feels as if the connection that has been constantly present since they formed Voltron for the first time is stronger, maybe. As if he feels a little closer to all his friends.
That’s really mushy, Lance informs him in his mind. You’re a massive softie marshmallow. I can’t believe I ever thought you were cool.
Keith sits up, abandoning his fourth set of push-ups to find Lance across the training room, doing some sort of gymnastic routine (blatantly showing off for some of the younger members of the Atlas. He’s not even trying to pretend he isn’t, smirking whenever they point at him and whisper to each other in awe when he does a quadruple in-air backflip or something that serves no actual training purpose).
Keith frowns at him. I am so cool.
Are not. You’re a squishy softie marshmallow that cries during Finding Nemo.
Everyone cries during Nemo! Keith defends huffily. It’s a heart-wrenching movie!
Lance doesn’t say anything back, but Keith can feel the impression of his laughter. It’s a hard thing to conceptualise, because he’s not really laughing, and there’s no sound of laughter even in his mindscape, but Keith feels the teasing joy bleeding from him. The best way he’s come to describe it, after weeks of trying to put words to the feeling as he falls asleep, is the feeling he gets when a joke lands, combined with the kind of raw freedom that comes with running in a dead sprint for no reason other than the pleasure of running. Something concentrated and all-encompassing and heart-turning. That’s what Lance’s laughter feels like.
And Keith won’t stand for it. It’s one thing for Lance to tease him with his words, poking fun at him with his wide, sparkling grin, but to make fun of Keith for the thoughts he’s thinking in his own head?
He will not lie down at the dishonour.
Grinning in anticipation, he scoops up his luxite blade, lining up the shot and throwing with deadly accuracy. The blade spins through the air, so fast it whistles, directly at Lance’s head. If he doesn’t dodge, it will kill him.
But Lance will dodge. He knew Keith was going to throw the blade before he even made the decision to throw it.
Gasps ripple through the training room, several people shouting in alarm as the blade comes closer and closer to killing the Red Paladin of Voltron. Milliseconds before it hits, just as someone opens their mouth to scream a warning, Lance moves, faster than the eye can track, pulling out his bayard and transforming it in the same moment, batting Keith’s blade out of the air with his broadsword like it’s a baseball.
He grins, wide and manic and jumping to the challenge, to the spar.
“That all you got, Mullet?” he calls, swinging his blade like the cocky shithead he is. Keith can hear the impression of his laughter again; he’s dizzy with it, drunk off the heady feeling.
“Not even a little bit,” he says, activating his own bayard. Without needing to say a word, they both charge forward at the same time, arms drawn back and swords heavy with potential energy, meeting in the middle of the training room with a clash of their blades, so hard it sends vibrations up their arms.
The shouts of alarm from the rest of the crew turn into whoops of excitement, as people fan out into a circle to give them space. Keith is relatively certain he sees Pidge and Matt organizing bets out of the corner of his eye.
Ready for a show? Lance’s voice echoes in his head. Distantly, he hears Red’s howling roar, the proud lion wrapping her energy with her paladin, gleefully telling Keith how much she looks forward to seeing her cub wipe the floor with him.
She is a very competitive entity, Red. It sparks something in Black, too, who gets up from her perch in a rare display of headstrong pride and wraps her energy around Keith to match.
You’re going to lose, Keith taunts.
Fat chance, Mullet.
Their strikes are less choreographed, now that a real challenge has been issued, and more than their own pride is at stake. There is no real fight here — whether or not Keith wins, he doesn’t truly care.
(But he’d fuckin’ love having something to hold over Lance’s head for a bit. Better if he could be smug in Lance’s head, where he can’t stomp away with a sulk and a claim that Keith was cheating.)
Swordplay with Lance is difficult. It’s always difficult, because Lance uses a sword in every way except how a sword is meant to be used — Keith has seen him use it as a javelin, a bat, even a vault stick — but it’s only gotten harder since Lance has had access to his mind, because Lance hears and feels his every move, anticipating his every trick. Neither of them have managed to win the upper hand for long, and it won’t be long before the other resorts to dirty tactics.
Keith eyes his forgotten luxite blade. He might be the first, actually.
Forcing himself to think of a flurry of random things, practically throwing a wad of unconnected, unsorted thoughts in Lance’s presence in his head to distract him, he dives to the side, reaching for his blade. Lance realises a split second too late to stop him, and his broadsword comes millimetres away from the skin of Keith’s ribcage as he dodges. He closes his fingers around the softened leather of the blade’s handle, and whips around to face his opponent, bayard in his right hand and luxite blade in his left. By the time he’s ready again to fight, even though he’s only taken mere seconds to grab his weapon, Lance has already flipped several meters back, bayard in his hand transformed to his blaster.
Cheater, the both think at the same time, identical smirks on their faces.
Lance fires six quick shots, aiming at vital places in his body. His shots are all true — Lance doesn’t miss — and Keith barely manages to slide out of the way, one of the laser blasts grazing the side of his neck, burning him.
Lance hasn’t bothered to set his gun to stun. Keith can’t blame him. It’s more fun with the risk.
He rushes at Lance, both swords extended, aiming a slash at the Cuban’s arm with one blade and a stab through his torso with the other — he’ll only be able to dodge one. He’ll either have to yield or take a slice, get a painful hit that will slow him down.
Somehow, though, Lance contorts himself, bending his body in a way that it honestly should not be able to bend and narrowly avoiding both blades, hitting the floor with a heavy slam and aiming a sweeping kick for Keith’s knees to take him down with him. Keith jumps to avoid his powerful legs, somersaulting over his head.
“Oh, boo!” someone, who is most definitely Shiro, calls from the crew. Keith almost forgot they were watching, he’s so caught up in the fight. “Come on, Lance! Get his ass!”
If Keith had the time — that is if Lance let up his assault for even one second, which Keith knows he won’t — he’d roll his eyes. Since he doesn’t, he settles for making a mental note to raid Shiro’s room later and steal the last of the Reese’s he packed from Earth.
Oh, that’s diabolical, Lance thinks at him.
Keith grunts, swiping at the hand holding his blaster. If you help me I’ll give you half.
The offer startles a laugh out of Lance, distracting him for just long enough that Keith gains the split-second advantage, placing the blade of his bayard under Lance’s wrist and twisting until Lance is forced to drop his gun or lose his hand.
“Fuck!” several people yell at the same time. Next comes the unmistakable sound of money changing hands.
“Sucks to suck”, Keith taunts, because he can’t help himself.
But Lance looks undeterred. “It does, doesn’t it.” He aims a heavy kick right for Keith’s sternum, and since Keith is too close to move away and not flexible enough to dodge, it lands square where Lance aims it, the heel of his foot knocking the breath from Keith’s lungs and blurring his vision. He drops his swords when the sudden lack of oxygen makes his hands to weak to grip them.
Lance takes advantage of Keith’s momentary weakness, catapulting forward for an assault. Unfortunately for him, his intentions bleed loud and clear through their bond, and Keith hits the floor with a gasp so Lance can’t wrap his legs around Keith’s neck to choke him out.
Lance curses, falling forward with a flail when his assault doesn’t hit, momentum completely overshot. He barely manages to catch himself before his head smacks into Keith’s, and for half a second he stays there, hovering above where Keith lays flat and tense, ready for the next move.
You come here often? Lance teases, and it’s genuinely such a horrible line that Keith groans out loud. They tussle on the ground for several moments, each trying to gain the upper hand, but it’s literally impossible — neither of them is particularly stronger than the other, so there’s no advantage there, and not only are they completely matched, stroke for stroke, punch for punch, but every move they try is completely anticipated by the other. There’s no way that Keith can win. He can try to spend the next who knows how long exhausting Lance, but they’ve already been training for a while — they’re both tired as all hell. And as much as Keith kind of likes Lance’s hands on him, he can’t forget that there are people watching. He has a reputation.
Truce? he offers.
Yeah, Lance concedes, sighing melodramatically. I suppose I’ll let you call a draw.
Keith rolls his eyes as hard as he can — leave it to Lance to be such a goober about it, even though Keith can literally feel that he wants to call it as much as Keith does.
At the exact same time, they spring apart, setting some space in between them to catch their breaths. Once they’ve had a minute to recover, Lance stands, stepping over to Keith and offering his hand. Keith takes it, pulling himself up.
All the gathered crew groans out loud.
“Another draw?” one of the MFE pilots mutters.
“At least they’re wicked cool to watch,” her friend says.
Keith would be able to feel how much Lance preens at that even if they werent telekinetically bonded.
In minutes most of the crew has dispersed, no longer interested now that there isn’t a fight to watch. Some of them go back to whatever equipment they were training on earlier, but many of them file out of the training room entirely, moving onto other things. Keith and Lance make their way over to the rest of the team, collapsing down to the floor next to them.
“You guys are super duper lame,” Pidge informs them, offering them both a water pouch. Keith takes his gratefully, not bothering with the straw and tearing off the top, chugging them whole thing down in one go. Allura looks at him in mild disgust, which makes Keith grin, because if he’s being entirely, one hundred percent honest, he really only did that to get a rise out of her because he knows she hates it when he does that.
“You’re a liar,” Lance responds, sipping on his juice pouch much slower than Keith does. “We just provided you with what was essentially a full-stakes WWE fight, except Keith and I are both way cooler than any of those losers and there were weapons involved.”
“Weapons, but no drama,” Hunk argues. “You guys barely even spoke to each other. Just fight, fight, fight. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the nuance?”
“I didn’t hear you clown Keith even one time,” Shiro adds, because he’s safely out of range of Keith’s pinching fingers. “Two out of ten Keith and Lance fight. I’m disappointed.”
Keith snorts. “Oh, he clowned me plenty.”
The second the words exit his mouth, he feels Lance go rigid beside him, and a sense of panic comes through their bond.
Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Lance tells him desperately.
Keith looks at him strangely, but Lance doesn’t provide any more context, looking at a particular spot on the floor as if it’s endlessly fascinating.
“He did?” Coran asks. He looks at Keith with a mix of intrigue and something he can’t place, something almost knowing. “I heard nothing of the sort.”
“Well, you wouldn’t hear it, per se,” Keith says slowly.
Lance screams unintelligibly in his head. Keith gets a distinctive picture of him in his own mindscape, yelling in anguish, as the Red Lion laughs herself to tears beside him.
What is your problem? Keith tries to ask, but mind-Lance ignores him in favour of his misery.
Pidge narrows her eyes at the two of them. “Clarify yourself immediately.”
“The mind bond?” Keith says, voice turning up at the end of the sentence like it’s a question. “You know, that Lance worked on with Red. So that we could communicate with each other using our existing emotional bonds with Voltron, just a couple steps farther. I know you guys haven’t used it much, but I just figured you weren’t into it.”
Silence.
Heavy, disbelieving silence. Each other member of the team looks at Keith with dropped jaws and wide eyes, like what Keith just said is something out of a science fiction novel rather than something they all should have been able to do for weeks, since that meeting with Iverson.
Keith suddenly gets the very distinct feeling that he has, perhaps, fucked up.
“Yeah, no shit,” Lance says, a little hysterically. His face is so red that he rivals his own lion. Keith can actually feel the heat pouring off of him, and the feeling from the bond is worse — Lance is dripping with mortification. “How am I in your fucking head and you still can’t follow my instructions?!”
“You didn’t tell me it was supposed to be a secret!” Keith defends, rapidly going red himself.
He can scarcely believe what is happening right now. Lance has told him that the point of the bond was to make the whole team get closer, but he’d only ever bothered to build something with Keith.
The whole time, from the very beginning, his goal was to share his deepest thoughts and feelings with Keith, no one else.
Oh, God.
“Oh, God,” Shiro repeats, but his tone is vastly different from the way Keith was thinking it. His expression can only be described as evilly and maniacally delighted, like every horrible hope of his has come true at once. “This is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Oh my God,” Lance says, the third person to say it. His face is buried in his hands, body half-curled up, like if he compresses himself small enough he can disappear into nothing.
“So that’s why it’s like you two share one half a braincell!” Hunk exclaims. “You actually do!”
Pidge and Allura crack up at Hunk’s joke, or maybe it’s Lance they’re laughing at. Either way, Keith feels his head spin.
Lance has literally manipulated the quintessence of Voltron specifically and only so he can talk to Keith in his own brain, communicate the emotions he doesn’t have the words for.
Manipulated. The quintessence of the universe’s greatest and most mysterious weapon. To find more ways to talk to Keith.
Keith is generally kind of a dense person, but he’s sure as shit not that dense.
“Hey,” he says, shifting away from the rest of his team that has rapidly lost their minds and is laughing themselves hoarse, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Look at me.”
I am going to kill you dead, Lance threatens in his mind, too embarrassed to make his mouth work.
No, you’re not, Keith replies, and pulls Lance’s hands away from his face, yanking him close and finally pressing their lips together, no longer waiting for some obscure and future proof that Lance loves him. It’s obvious, with the way he softens, melts into Keith’s hands, and the way something warm and soft and floaty flows through their bond.
Lance changed reality for him.
His love could not be more clear.
#fellas is it gay to rewrite the fabric of the universe for the guy you’d follow anywhere#vld#voltron#keith#keith kogane#lance#lance mcclain#klance#pining klance#pining keith#pining lance#whipped lance#down bad lance#like truly embarrassing#bamf lance#bamf keith#red paladin lance#black paladin keith#broganes#team as family#my writing#fic#longpost#brown-eyed lance#soft keith#weirdo voltron magic#you know what for good measure.#whipped keith
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Why Levi and Petra?
Of course, upon general viewing of SNK and its characters, it's clear that they have established Erwin, Levi, and Hange as the leading trio of the Survey Corps. They represent this faction of the military and in interesting ways, mirror the main protagonists of the series.
While there is a lot to be said and appreciated about Levi's relationships with Erwin and Hange, I have come to find that the character who humanizes him is the lovely (albeit forgettable) Petra Ral.
Early in the series, we are introduced to Levi as Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Erwin makes use of his abilities in this sense, and Hange often relies on his strength in combat as well. That is not to say this is the extent of their relationships: we have Levi's iconic "Give up on your dreams and die" scene with Erwin (S3 E16) and the infamous "Maybe we should just live here [away from my responsibilities] together" request from Hange (S4.2 E8). However, something to note with both scenes is that while they give depth to Levi's relationship with both characters, he essentially serves to highlight others. In the former, Levi's response directly challenges Erwin's dream, and allows this commander a defining moment of growth. Similarly in the latter, Levi is used as a means for Hange to express and eventually overcome their fears and insecurities about the deal they've been dealt as the new Commander of the Survey Corps (which at the time was rapidly disbanding under the Jaegerist movement).
In other words, Levi is the "subplot character" to Erwin's and Hange's individual arcs. (According to John Truby, 'The subplot character… provides another opportunity to define the hero through comparison and advance the plot.')
Which begs the question… at what point in the series, if any, is Levi defined as a character in and of himself?
Two prominent scenes from season 1 come to mind, which are namely: 1) The dying soldier scene (S1 E9), and 2) Petra's conversation with Eren in headquarters (S1 E15).
In the first, Levi comforts a dying soldier and vows to carry on their will and exterminate all Titans. When the soldier passes before he can reply to Levi's words, Levi turns to his fellow soldier Petra and asks her if he was heard. Petra provides confirmation, emphasizing the peaceful expression on the soldier's face.
In the second, Petra confronts a gloomy-looking Eren, who has been tasked to clean headquarters along with the rest of the Special Operations Squad (aka the Levi Squad). She specifically points out how Levi is 'not the hero he's expected to be' in the sense that he has a terrible personality, though she does so while smiling almost fondly, as though it doesn't matter what his personality is because they can always put faith in him as their Captain. It seems she wants Eren to understand this - or a notion similar.
It is in both moments that we are able to clearly see Levi beyond being a powerful soldier. Always, he is a threat. When he enters the scene we expect the shift in the dynamic of the battle - we expect him to win. He's a trump card. Erwin's last words to him are an order (S3 E16), and Hange's last words about him is "he's [Armin's] underling now, so really put him to work" (S4.3.1). Levi acknowledges Erwin's and Hange's humanity, bolsters it even, with the conviction of "dedicating your heart". In SNK he is the symbolism, the embodiment, of a soldier. That's all he really ever gets to be. Even his softest moments with - heck, anyone in the series - are meant to deeply reflect on the guilt, the burden, the purpose of getting the job done. ("So… you're telling me… I've spent all this time and energy running around killing people?" (S2 E12) / "Just think, if your hands were still clean... Jean wouldn't be here right now." (S3 E2) / "If we just run away and keep on hiding, what will we have left?" (S4.2 E8))
But for those singular moments in season one, he's more than just the threat. We see him as a human not only with (personality) flaws, but also with dreams and convictions, tied so seamlessly with his comrades' cause that we are reminded painfully, at the end of the series, that it was Levi who carried them all to the end. Throughout the story we see Levi lament fallen soldiers; we are exposed to how much he empathizes with his comrades and their deaths, to the point where it can be said that no one keeps us more aware of the lives that have been lost throughout the show more than Levi himself.
In this manner, Petra was the subplot character to Levi's hero. She gave the audience a (subconscious) glimpse of the Humanity within "Humanity's Strongest" and built the bridge that would lead us to compelling and important revelations about Levi's thoughts and actions as the show progressed. It's Petra whom he finds tending to a dying soldier; Petra whom he asks for confirmation that the soldier heard; Petra who, against all expectation, asks Eren to see past the station, the status, the soldier, to the person himself.
"He's not quite the great, perfect hero society makes him out to be, huh? The real Captain Levi is shorter than you'd expect, temperamental, crude, and unsociable. (…) You thought that because he's skilled, he doesn’t have to follow the rules like everyone else?" (S1 E15)
It's even Petra who, despite her rank, asks Levi to step aside when Eren becomes a half-baked Titan. Here, Levi's robust intuition and split-second decision making skills are shown even away from the battlefield. It's Petra who leads the Special Operations Squad in their apology to Eren (S1E19 "Bite"), who first instills in us (narratively) the notion of trusting your fellow comrades. More specifically, she is who convinces Eren to place his life in their hands. It's this notion that Levi carries with him even until the final arc - "I've saved Eren countless times over - each time, more comrades dying. All because I believed he was the hope of humanity." (S4.1 E13) In the manga (Ch112), it's Petra we see at the forefront of this belief.
"Do you, Eren? Do you find it that hard to trust us?" It's Petra who dies, her words the final say in convincing Eren: "I believe my squad will be victorious." (S1 E21)
"It's like some awful joke," Levi reflects later on, as his comrades' dying hopes and dreams flash by in the canopy of the forest. "What the hell was the hope that we saw? Such bullshit. It's not even funny." (S4.1 E13) "We" here could definitely mean the soldiers who've given their hearts, but the metaphorical representative of this heart is Petra herself... "Eren! Trust us." (S1 E19)
And in the end, it's Petra in the forefront alongside Erwin and Hange, representative of her fellow soldiers, the one (experienced/veteran) Scout we've seen and interacted with in the entire series to have professed the values of hope, of trust, of belief, which is henceforth carried on by Levi himself, his own convictions, his own dreams. They are, in the entire series, the glimpse we get into the Scout Regiment beyond the series' titular character and his comrades in the 104th, and a thorough dive into what makes Levi Humanity's, not simply its strongest.
Her character song, "The Light of Dual Wings", can literally be taken as an allegory of the dreams the Scouts have entrusted to Levi. That's how prominent she is as a Scout; how coded her devotion to Levi is, whether interpreted platonically, romantically, or narratively, as the dedication of hearts.
So, yes, I love them together. I love their scenes, the implications of them narratively, the values Petra professes so effortlessly in the air, washed away by the higher tides of the Female Titan arc. I love that it's still Petra at the forefront, in all of Levi's reflections moving forward, because she is our first glimpse into Levi's character, the real him.
In the end this is just a ship post struggling to keep from delving too much into the symbolism of Levi and the Scouts (how Levi is the face of the Scouts more so than Erwin himself, really), the truest depiction of humanity's collective fight for freedom in this entire series. In his early days, Eren wanted to be a Scout, after all. It is Levi and Petra who push him forward into 'that hell' - for better and worse, respectively.
#levi ackerman#petra ral#rivetra#levi x petra#levipet#aot#snk#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#levi character analysis#levi petra relationship analysis#aot analysis#snk analysis#i even cited episode numbers!#i was too lazy to get the overall episode number though xd#so you get dumb citations like S4.3.1 lol#analysis.vtf
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The Son of the Red Hood
The Weight of the Time Stream
Clockwork intervenes in Danny’s life so that he can learn all needs to be the King of the Infinite Realms. Hopefully this time he can be loved and cared for like he deserves.
The weight of monitoring the Time Stream was one Clockwork would never wish on another being. He had bared witness to horrors that were truly beyond the comprehension of a lesser ghost. He has seen Pariah Dark slaughter his way across the universe. He had seen Darkseid complete the Anti-Life equation and unmake existence. He had seen a rampaging Doomsday wipe out all intelligent life. All in alternate timelines where a hero had failed
While his power was not absolute, Clockwork's purpose was to guide the Time Stream away from such calamitous endings. A small nudge of a bullet’s path here, a bomb disarmed at the last second there, a villain taking just a moment longer to monologue somewhere in the middle. Whatever it took to keep the Time Stream on the proper path.
More important than protecting the Mortal Realms, Clockwork focused most of his attention on the Time Stream of the Infinite Realms. The so-called Ghost Zone was connected to an infinite number of dimensions and alternate realities and if the Zone were to collapse, or the Time Stream become marred it would lead to the catastrophic collapse of all other realities until all of existence was unmade.
It was for the preservation of the Time Stream that Clockwork aided the other Ancients in entombing Pariah Dark. The Tyrant Ghost King would never have been happy with his subjects in the Realms. Eventually he would have wanted to conquer the universe to add all of existence to his control. Even if he somehow managed to slaughter every living thing that existed across all the infinite dimensions and realities he then would have turned his gaze back to the Zone and set about slaughtering and shattering his own citizens.
Since the fall of Pariah Dark, no single being has had as much of an impact on the security of the Realms and the Time Stream. That was until a single boy, in action so unlikely that in all the infinite timelines Clockwork had witnessed it had only happened once. Daniel Fenton, known to the ghosts as Phantom, became the second ever Halfa. Half ghost, half alive. The moment echoes across the new timeline, carving and reshaping the possible futures from this one radiating moment.
At first there had been numerous timelines where it was Danny who broke the Time Stream, or who slaughtered his way across the cosmos. Maybe he went back in time and had accidentally unwritten his own birth causing the timeline to collapse into a singularity or a paradox. Maybe he was tortured into insanity by the Ghost Investigation Ward or his parents and in his madness brought about the end of all things. Maybe he cheated on a test and then watched his family die in front of him and then killed almost all life on the planet.
However unlike others with this amount of potential for harm, it only took a single instance of Daniel facing his own dark potential future for those possibilities to vanish. Again the boy had the bizarre ability to simply will timelines into or out of existence. There were no longer any timelines where he would harm the Time Stream, or threaten the realities.
Daniel believed in his own personal rules for himself so strongly that they could rewrite all manner of possible alternate realities. He told himself he had to protect and so he did so. He told himself he couldn’t become Dan, so he didn’t. It was an ability, a belief in himself that Clockwork had rarely seen before, no matter how many timelines he observed.
When Daniel faced Pariah Dark, unknowingly challenging the Tyrant for the throne of the Infinite Realms, Clockwork could see the future of the Time Stream brighten with every blow he landed against him. When he successfully defeated Pariah in single combat Clockwork watched the numerous time lines wherein High King Phantom led the Infinite Realms into a golden age of peace and prosperity.
However, even Daniel wasn’t perfect. He was untrained in many areas, self taught in others. There were beings, ghosts or mortals who were better fighters than him and if they challenged him could unmake the good work he could do. He needed to be trained, to be taught all he needed to know about how to fight, how to lead, how to govern, how to negotiate. All of that training would take time, and for once, Clockwork the god of time, who had witnessed timelines and futures beyond count, didn’t have enough time.
Clockwork had managed to convince Daniel that he would not officially have to take the crown until he was ready. Daniel interpreted that as he had until his eighteenth birthday, only a few short months away now. Clockwork could not see any timeline where the boy did not take up the crown upon his birthday. So Clockwork, who had watched eons pass, was suddenly on a time crunch, to infuse Daniel’s mind with what some ghosts spent centuries learning and perfecting.
So he had stumbled upon a solution. He needed to push back Daniel’s birthday. But how to do it? If he did the simplest solution and just held Daniel in his clocktower lair, outside of the Time Stream, it would be a matter of hours of instruction before the boy grew bored and left. Any other solutions would end up breaking Daniel’s very shallow trust in Clockwork which could lead to catastrophes in the futures.
Daniel either had to choose to delay his own birthday, which he would never do because with his birthday also came with freedom from his parents, or he couldn’t know that Clockwork had delayed the day. It was fortunate then that Clockwork had the ability to manipulate a being’s place in the Time Stream. In the common vernacular he could make things age forward or in reverse at any rate he desired. It would be a simple affair to regress Daniel to a younger age, restrict his memories, locked behind certain aging milestones. But what to do with the boy then?
Clock could certainly train Daniel himself, or have one of the other powerful and trustworthy ghosts watch over the deaged boy king. There were however two flaws with that idea. Even before he officially accepts the crown, Daniel could still be challenged by other ghosts, so he would have to be hidden away from the ghosts that would threaten him. The other flaw was that Daniel was only half a ghost. His human half had needs that couldn’t be seen to in the Infinite Realms. He would need to be watched over in the Mortal Realms.
Where to place a young boy, who would inevitably develop his ghostly powers and his heroic tendencies? Where could he learn to fight or to lead so that he could not be bested in combat and instead lead the Infinite Realms to the brighter future Clockwork had seen? If only there were heroes in the world that could guide the child king. Oh wait.
There were numerous heroes in the Mortal Realm, many of whom would be delighted to care for, raise, and train a young hero. The Kryptonian, the Amazon, the Atlantean. All of them have things they could teach the boy, their moral codes: incorruptible iron. However, being Master of Time meant weighing all sides to try and gain the most benefits from a decision. While these power houses would be able to teach Daniel much before he took up the crown, they would benefit little from their tutelage.
Searching for someone who had the skills Daniel needed to learn, the connections to fill in any gaps, and would benefit from raising a lonely and broken child led Clockwork to the Bats of Gotham. The Bat himself wouldn’t do, he had too many children already, and Daniel did not need another absentee or emotionally stunted parent. The children of the Cowl however… there were many options there. Cassandra to learn the way of Shadows, Damian to learn the way of Blades, Richard to learn how to fly even before his powers develop. Daniel would benefit equally from any of the Knights of Gotham, as the siblings would always, in every timeline, reach out to each other to ensure the best possible care.
There was one that would benefit the most. The one who’s compassion had been drowned in the rage of corrupted ectoplasm. Yet still, fought every day for control, fought to protect. The one who would without question care for a hurt child, who would be calmed by the child king’s aura of pure ectoplasm. And with the network of heroes he would have access to all the help he could ever ask for in the training of his ghost child.
Decision made, Clockwork turned to look at the floating gears around his head. In one a hero wearing a red helmet was being called to a source of ectoplasm that called to the Pit inside him. Danny had bled on Clockwork’s floor after the last time his parents had caught him in his Phantom form. Clockwork simply kept the blood and then poured it out onto a Gotham rooftop in order to bring his hero of choice into the proper position.
In another, a tired Daniel flew back to the portal to the Mortal Realms. He had been through a long day. Multiple fights in Amity Park, then a long lesson in Clockwork’s lair. In the last gear, Daniel’s parents descended into their basement with Vlad Masters, the first halfa, otherwise known as Plasmius. Clockwork could have shortened the conversation with Daniel to prevent the coming confrontation, or he could have held him there in the Infinite Realms longer, but this needed to happen.
He watched as Daniel stepped out of the swirling portal, transforming into his human form mid yawn. The Fentons reacted at once, his mother pulling and firing a blaster in the blink of an eye. Daniel lept back, flight taking over in an instant, one hand clamped over the blaster wound on his side. A flash of light again started to travel up Daniel’s body as his father levied his, much larger, ecto bazooka and fired. A sneer gleaming in Masters’ eyes at Daniel’s misfortune.
“Time Out.” Clockwork said. The images in the gears froze. The hero and his brother were almost at the rooftop. Daniel was frozen mid transformation. A powerful beam of ecto energy was stationary, stopped on its course towards Daniel’s body.
Clockwork willed himself to Daniel’s side. If he didn’t involve himself now this would be the worst of Daniel’s tortures at his parent’s hands, almost enough to drive him to a world ending madness. However even this wasn’t enough to overcome Daniel’s strength of character. Instead Daniel would withdraw from the world, turn his back on the humans. It would break him in a different way.
He tapped Daniel with his staff and watched as the boy regressed, the consequences of puberty undoing themselves before his eyes. He stopped when Daniel was just short of five years old. Daniel would be old enough to learn from his new mentor without being an undue burden on someone not expecting to be caring for a child. And he would have 13 years to learn as much as he could from the heroes.
Clockwork grabbed the deaged child in his arms then glanced around at the scene he was leaving. Anger and hatred radiating off the faces of Daniel’s parents. Cruel glee on the face of Plasmius. If the Fentons were allowed to live they would never stop hunting Phantom, the ghost they assumed had killed their son. They would keep escalating their attacks until war between the Realms was inevitable.
Their hatred and rage would only be fueled by the man standing behind them. If Vlad Masters learned that Daniel was in a vulnerable state, he would not hesitate to try and manipulate control over him or to challenge a toddler for the crown of the High King. Under the rule of Plasmius the Infinite Realms would rot away in his constant search for more and greater power. Removing Masters at least temporarily and Daniel’s parents permanently could only be good for realms, at least if Daniel eventually could bring himself to forgive Clockwork for it.
He tapped a panel of the portal with his staff and watched as the screws holding the panel in place corroded and rusted, aging decades before his eyes. When the screws finally crumpled to dust the panel fell to the ground exposing wires and charged ectoplasm that powered the portal. The ecto blast was directly lined up with the exposed components now that Daniel wasn’t in the way.
It was the perfect time for an explosion. Daniel’s two companions were at their homes. Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson wouldn’t find out about the explosion until the following morning. His sister, Jasmine Fenton wouldn’t find out about it for a week. He had thought about trying to prevent her from reconnecting with her brother, but the girl was tenacious. It was a family trait. Trying to stop her from finding her brother was like trying to stop the very flow of time. When she inevitably found him, it would do nothing but help the boy’s emotional growth.
Clockwork pulled Daniel away, changing his clothes from those fit for a teenager to those of a toddler. Daniel might be angry at him later, but Clockwork couldn’t resist the star themed footie pajamas. Bearing the weight of the Time Stream was a lot. He had to take his small moments of enjoyment where he could.
The two of them appeared on the rooftop in Gotham. Clockwork knew the heroes were only a few roofs away. He set Daniel down on the rooftop next to the small puddle of his blood. Next to the boy, who had during his transformation to a child had fallen asleep, Clockwork placed his gifts. A red beanie saturated with Foley’s ecto signature. A pair of black, fingerless gloves saturated with Manson’s. And finally a teddy bear dressed up as an astronaut. The bear not only contained Jasmine’s ecto signature, but smelled like her favorite shampoo, a mix of her namesake and apple blossoms. Inside he had recorded a final gift from Jasmine to Daniel that the boy would discover later. The last thing he wanted was for Daniel to forget completely about the people who had loved him, even if his memories of them would be restrained for now.
Clockwork glanced around to make sure that everything was how he wanted it, then appeared back in his haunt in the Infinite Realms. The two gears again showed their frozen scenes, just as he had left them.
“Time In.”
Out of the corner of his eye he could see one gear suddenly light up with green light as the portal overloaded and exploded, wiping out the Fenton home. He flicked his wrist and banished the gear away from his sight as he focused on the last. He watched as the Red Hood swung up and onto the rooftop. He watched as the hero came to a sudden stop at the scene before him. And even though he couldn’t see the man’ face through the helmet, he knew his eyes had widened in surprise.
Clockwork just hoped he had done enough for Daniel to grow up, happy this time, and to have the skills needed to be the best king the Infinite Realms had ever had, or would ever have.
#Clockwork#dp x dc#Danny Phantom#Red Hood#danny fenton#Jason Todd#meddling clockwork#Jason todd raises Danny Fenton#Follow for more!
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