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galedekarios · 6 months

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gale, elminster & mystra: new infos from the epilogue and how they tie in with what we know from the base game

so i was mulling over bits and pieces of new information we got from the epilogue, connecting it to the stuff we already knew:

1. gale's story of how mystra came into his life in the full release

gale jumping from from "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it" to "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself" to then the teacher, muse and lover dynamic.

and from early access:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Player: He sounds like a very talented individual Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

2. elminster's new letter from the epilogue

we knew before that elminster must have come into his life early-ish as well from this convo:

"While most know Elminster the legend, few know him as you have. He plucked you from obscurity. Offered you his guidance. His faith."

we also know that gale got to attend blackstaff academy.

now, with the new letters from the epilogue, we know that elminster met him at eight years old:

elminster coming into his when gale was just "eight summers old", gale's talents being as they were from "an early age", mystra involving herself in his life.

perhaps those two events happening are connected: the chosen of mystra. plucking him from obscurity. taking him under his wing.

perhaps on the guidance of someone? someone very clever? someone who'd later use said mentor to also deliver a message that needed to be conveyed with the utmost severity of her bidding?

someone who'd involve herself in gale's life, too? someone who needs his ambitions to be laid to rest because of a future she glimpsed at?

3. raphael's new epilogue lines if gale fails his ascension:

Raphael: I owe you a debt of gratitude. You were the spark of ambition that rekindled Gale's ambitions, after Mystra had so cleverly put them to rest.

i'm thinking thoughts not only about "cleverly", implying some sort of scheming here or manipulation.

a goddess involving her chosen, to oversee a child, so full of promise and ambition -

(a relationship forming between elminster and gale, which even by the point we see them interact in the game, speaks of the care and love they hold for each other) -

before she too involves herself: becomes his mentor, teacher, and he becomes her chosen.

making gale her chosen as a form of control, so he perhaps would not oppose her, like, for instance, even elminster is hardly capable of.

but not only did she make him her chosen, in the same breath, she made him her lover.

we know she very much is capable of using her chosen for her needs.

raphael is also very directly saying that gale's "ambition" reawakened after meeting the protag. so we are talking about mystra putting them to rest before gale met the protag, so the comment couldn't possibly be about his character arc during the game.

i already touched on this a bit earlier but:

4. we also know that mystra has foresight, being able to predict the future to some sort of degree:

History of the Chosen of Mystra: The reason why Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, invested a portion of her divine might into mortals is not known. One of the popular theories, and one that is gaining more support in light of the other goddess' during that period, is that Mystra foresaw the Time of Troubles (and her own passing at the hands of Helm) and chose to give some of her powers to mortals in order to ensure that her successor (the female mage, Midnight, as it turned out) would have a number of nearly immortal allies in the struggle against the schemes of the gods (the now dead Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal) who precipitated the Time of Troubles by stealing the Tablets of Fate.

(again, i want to reiterate that larian doesn't keep close to the dnd timeline at times, and has quite a few lore mistakes and even breaks. i know mystra was 'dead' around the time gale would have been that young. take it up with larian, please. i'm only trying to extrapolate from the things we are told in the game and the narrative in it.)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #elminster aumar #mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: elminster aumar #ch: mystra #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #grooming cw

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hana-no-seiiki · 5 months

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𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐒 + 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐱 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 (𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈)

tw/cw: this act alludes more to reader being amab (because breeder reader era wont be ending anytime soon) so beware. off-screen seggs. worldbuilding and lore stuff. yandere themes, mentions of forced prostitution. misandry.

status: unedited

[ ACT I ] • [ ACT III ]

MOTHERS HELD A HIGH SOCIAL RANK IN YOUR SOCIETY. They were the bearers of children; held with a status akin to gods. As such, those who were able to give birth were favorable.

Not a womb-less being like you.

You spent a couple decades or so in denial. Hoping that one day you’ll be accepted. That maybe society itself would change and you’d have a place in the world.

Only for reality to ruthlessly slap you in the face.

“[Y/N].”

Your mother’s voice, no matter the content of her speech, always made your heart rate soar. Cold sweat appeared on your palms and forehead, but before it could even be discerned on your form your hands make a swift movement to dry yourself. Your could feel your shakiness intensify as she drew closer.

“Yes, mother?” You greeted back. You cursed inwardly as your words came out hoarse; without its usual confidence. You could already hear her admonish you.

How could you be anything less than perfect? After all you were already born a failure. Might as well make up for it by being the best.

Throughout the decades of your parent’s unfavorable treatment, you had gain a semblance of self-esteem. At least enough to give them cheek at times. Although your subconscious always reminded you of what they were capable of if you weren’t engaged.

Your teenage self could never imagine talking back to them. With that, in spite of the unwarranted attention you were somewhat happy with the circumstances you were given.

“You went to the countryside, again.” Her arms crossed over her chest, and tar colored blouse. She always wore black clothes and a solemn look wherever she went, intimidating many that dared to gaze at her direction. Her graying hair was tied into a tight bun. Pointed, cat like eyes behind thick glasses. But she was beautiful. Annoyingly so. The very reason why so many fell at your feet.

“I am here now.”

“Her Highness was looking all over for you.”

“That’s the point. I was hiding from that witch.” You crossed your arms. You did not like that woman at all. You remembered repeatedly enforcing your boundaries and personal space to which she repeatedly broke down and disrespected.

“[Y/N]! Stop being such a brat. Act your age for once. This is a golden opportunity. For you and our whole family!”

“Selling my body wasn’t enough? Your greed really knows no bounds.”

You shut your mouth immediately. You’ve gotten too far, if her heels clacking on the ground wasn’t already an obvious indication her thin, banshee like screech should be.

You expected a slap, maybe even her pulling your hair out once again, perhaps her nails would tear into your skin once more leaving a scar that would make at least some of your clients change their mind. However before she could even get close enough to touch you, her husband pulled her away.

“Estella . . . if you hurt them, her highness might . . .” He held her back.

You used to think you loved him way back then. When he’d halt your mother’s actions and take care of you after you’d been used. But then you realized that he only saw you as an object he could benefit from as well. Once the princess asked for your hand in marriage he was ecstatic. Waxing on and on about how happy it’d make him if you went with her, even allowing her to defile you in your own bedroom at times. The only reason he didn’t actively hurt you was because your mother’s ego was so fragile that she’d take him getting physical as a sign of defiance and ill will.

Swarms of hatred encircled your heart. To think you were so blind and hungry for an ounce of their affection only a year ago.

Hours passed before your tears showed signs of stopping its flow. You hoped the streetslights that barely gave vision at least hid you from prying eyes.

“Witch, huh?”

A voice tore you away from your moment of sadness. In fear of anyone else seeing you in this state you hurry to fix yourself as you heard heeled clicks grow louder.

“I should have known.” You turned your head to face the sounds’ source. Only to see the reason why so many tears of yours were wasted this day. “So, does this mean our engagement is off? Or shall I be executed for sullying your name?”

Third Princess Kalliope Mikiavella Levantine. If her name was a nightmare then her presence in your life was evermore.

She was your highest paying client. Ever insatiable. Ever spoiled by her mother the Empress. The only saving grace of this whole situation was that she was not the Crown Princess, yet. Otherwise you might have already been made an imperial concubine or consort.

“Unfortunately not.” She smiled, a little solemn in a way to empathize with your situation, but nonetheless ruthless knowing her power. The princess was beautiful, her blazing red hair that curled immaculately lightly bounced in her steps towards you. Bright amber eyes that almost appeared like the dim streetlights.

“I am unclean. Impure. Why would you want someone like me?” You keep your eyes to your legs lest you fall for her beauty. You always looked somewhere else whenever you two slept together. Always in fear that you’ll grow to love your assaulter — captor.

“I . . . do not know. But everytime I hear you sing my heart feels at ease. I want you in my life, [Y/N]. For as long as I live.”

“Think of it this way, as my spouse you will be ruling over the entirety of this country. Every thing, every one, will be yours. Even those parents who sold you to me. And you’ll give that kid a bright future—“

“[Y/N] . . ?”

You do not think before your lips crashed upon hers.

“Athanaxious? Athanaxious! “

Vasileious searched high and low, in every corner of the ocean Athanaxious usually dwelled in. He even swam the shores, close to those wicked human hunters called fishermen to find him. But with no luck.

“Let him be, Vasilei. He’ll come back in due time.” Aurelius, the pair’s eldest brother, comforted him. Aurelius had a beautiful tail of pure gold, unlike the flecked one Vasileious and Athanaxious owned. His hair was a beautiful, long and curly brown with a lock of blond that made it all the more stunning. His tan skin glimmered akin to the surface waters at day, and almost glowed at night.

“Say that when you get scolded by Mother. I dare you.” Vasileious spat, nerves fried from stress. He would have never interacted or approached a human if it weren’t for his stupid younger brother. But now he’d seen several. Do you know how horrid that experience would be for him? It was downright terrible.

Aurelius, ever the only serene one in the family, massaged the small of his brother’s pale back, “You seem on edge. More so than usual.”

“Athanaxious was meeting with a human, Aurelius. A human!”

“Huh, so you finally found out.”

“You knew of it?!”

“All of us did.” Aurelius shrugged, slightly curling his tail as a gesture of ease. “Oh come on, we all know how much of a snitch you are. Besides, Athanei can’t be dissuaded. Telling him not to do something will only make him want to do it more.”

“He used his siren song on them.”

“No way! How did he sound?”

“. . . It sounded — “ Vasileious ashamedly could only remember your own voice that day, unable to give a proper remark he gave a simple, vague response. “alright.”

“How utterly anticlimactic. Although you saying something aside from terrible means it must be good.”

“Make of it what you will.”

“Irenaeus!”

Another merman appeared. Younger than Aurelius but his beauty unlike any of the other brothers. His tail a beautiful ivory color that slowly transitioned to grey and blacks at the tip. Long dark hair and golden eyes. Irenaeus was known to have the biggest body count of all siblings — bringing thousands of humans to their doom. If it weren’t for his carefree attitude and the god he was named after, one would think he loathed humans more than Vasileious himself. “The human Athan was meeting . . .”

“What about them?”

“Apparently they are to be married off to a human princess. Sailors across the ocean have been speaking of it so. And. . . well . . . “

“Spit it out.”

Irenaeus looked left and right, his tail flicking in an anxious manner, “I believe Athanaxious might be meeting with the Sea Witch shortly.”

“What? You didn’t stop him?!” Vasileious screeched. The ocean floor that surrounded them tremors in his cries, large waves rippling, barreling towards land. His two brothers flinched in pain.

“Less time scolding more time on looking for our brother.” Aurelius broke him out of his moment of panic. “Irenei, inform the rest of our family. Vasilei, let us depart.”

Deep within the Abyss of the ocean, Athanaxious found himself swarmed with feverish determination and anger. The pressure of the waters always felt suffocating but now? It was nothing to the looming dread that drowned his heart.

He reaches his destination before his mind could properly think. He thought long ago that the last time he’d come would be that, the last. But here he was again, far more desperate than he was afraid.

“Be welcome, Than.” The low, gravelly voice of the sea devil danced across the murky waters.

“You must know of the happenings on land.”

He comes out of his hiding, long winding tentacles slither across the walls covered with barnacles and seaweed, as He moved towards Athanaxious, “Mm, I’m afraid not. Please enlighten me.”

“Tch. My human. They’re going to marry some rich lady up north. This cannot happen.”

“You want me to help you ruin a wedding?”

“You know the drill. A price for a boon. This will be quite expensi—“

“I offer you my voice.”

The Sea Witch found themself speechless for moments on end. For a siren to sell their voice would be akin to dooming themself to a lonely, wretched existence. Unable to lure their prey or be of any ‘worth’ in their society. They were aware of Athanaxious’ infatuation over you. Just not self-sacrificing extent of it. “…And in exchange for your precious voice I offer you a new identity as a human.”

“Beware, as every step you take will feel like daggers going through your feet. You will however, be the most graceful dancer upon the land. A perfect fit for our little singer.” An apparition appears between the Devil’s fingertips as it flicked across the waters. It was you, on a platform of sorts surrounded by other humans. You were bringing joy to their faces, as you did with him. “Shall I add a wager to spice up the fun?”

It took a lot of willpower for Athanaxious to rip his eyes away from your ‘magical form’ and all he could muster was a nod.

“Should you succeed your voice shall return, and you wouldn’t have to keep giving me your scales to brew love potions. Their heart will be yours forever more, guaranteed by both their feelings in your triumph and my very own magic.” The apparition shifted; Athanaxious appears within the image — human. The two of you looked joyful as you embraced underneath what seemed to be the moon.

But then it all lasts for a second before it shifted once more. The vision of your happy ending swiftly turned bitter as this apparition’s Athanaxious slowly dissolved and disappeared, before you turn to someone else and embrace them instead.

“If you fail to win their affection before the wedding, I will keep your voice and you shall turn into sea foam.”

Athanaxious felt his stomach grow weak at the illusion’s show. Moreso the possibility of your romance with someone else than his death. He only had one choice.

“I understand. I accept both the deal and the wager.”

“Oh, how magnificent! I hope you don’t go on to regret this.” The Sea Devil lips tugged upwards.

“Now, sing for me.”

“Where will you be going?” Kalliope tugged at your sleeves.

“Out. I’ll be back before sundown.” You gently pulled your arm away from your admirer, as you buttoned your clothes and put on a pair of trousers.

“But—“

“My seed must take root for our marriage to be guaranteed, no? Keep your hips raised.”

“Can we go for another bout before you leave?”

You loop your finger around a lock of her hair, lending her a final kiss to the forehead. “No.”

Your town was not one to write about in history books. It was like any other the Empress was able to conquer under her rule. A quaint village just west of the capital city known for their great alcohol and folks to bed.

In such a small population, everyone knew you and you knew everyone. People even knew of your clients, every single one in fact. They weren’t surprised to see you in much more extravagant or expensive clothing as you passed by the street in an equally gaudy carriage.

It was moreso the armored guards that surrounded you that alerted them of something different.

“[Y/N]!”

Clearly that wasn’t enough to deter your childhood friend from running towards you.

“First you impregnate my sister and leave her all alone to take care of your mistake, now you go and get married without a word to us! Do you even care at all?!” The young man wore overalls. Soot covered his skin from what you assume was the mines he started recently working in.

Yiorgos used to be a lot kinder. Softer. Almost puppy like with his admiration towards you. But after a series of misunderstandings he grew resentful of your existence. You never bothered to correct him.

Or perhaps you were just too busy and hurt by his assumptions.

“Out of their highness’s way.” A guard put their arm between you and your former friend.

“Their . . . highness ?” Yiorgos looked at you, baffled. His hung wide open. He then leaned forward to no doubt shout at you once more before you finally put a word in.

“No, I know him.” You shook your head at the guard. Your focus left the man as soon as a familiar mop of [hair color] entered your vision.

A small girl dressed in clothing akin to your own, left Yiorgos’s side and ran up to you with no regard to the armored knight that loomed over. Excitement clear in her eyes. “Don’t listen to your uncle, you aren’t a mistake alright? Go on in, I’ll be with you.” You gently pushed her towards the siblings’ house. The girl shook her head, unwilling to let go of you. But her grip slowly loosened and she eventually shied away, leaving you and the rest.

“Your sister paid me to sleep with her and insisted not to use protection, we both know I pay for that night every single day since it happened both reputation wise and monetarily. And lastly, as you can see I had no choice.” You tilt you head to the small army of knights made to watch over you and your carriage.

Yiorgos shook his head. Brown hair swaying side to side. “You always have a choice.”

“And my choices are life and death. Don’t bother arguing about my situation!”

“Here’s my last payment and goodbye. I’ll be taking the kid with me to the castle soon.” You throw him a bag filled with gold coins and then proceeded to make your leave.

If there was anything you were proud of in your town however, it would be the opera house you worked at. Thousands of people all throughout the world often came here to watch your shows amongst the other singers and performers.

Due to its popularity it was even funded by the Empress directly. That is how you met the princess.

“[Y/N]! I’ve heard the news. Congratulations.” Your employer, Lady Anastasia — a noble woman —, runs her hand in your hair. She used to be a regular person your mother sold you off to until she eventually hired you as a singer at her Opera House. Of course, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t pay you a little extra for your services after hours.

“What’s with the fuss?” You gestured to the boy servants fussing over a young man. Who seemed a little too familiar, nostalgic maybe. You couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“Oh, we found a young man out on the beach you frequented. We thought it was you at first but upon closer inspection . . .”

“He’s a mute that one. Ain’t no further thing from our theater’s star.” Her Father, a rather old and gruff man, huffed. He was always so prideful of you. Despite his rough demeanor, you knew that he cared deeply. After Anastasia would bed you, he always came by to give you a cup of tea. You didn’t know how to repay the man except use your body, so he’s had a taste of you as well.

In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve bedded half of your town and then some.

“Will you keep your scathing remarks to yourself?” Anastasia lightly slapped him, “He is incredibly talented on the art of dance, light on his feet.”

“And weak on constitution. He barely finished a piece before falling to his knees and panting!”

“I’ll take care of him.” You put a hand to your chin. The man gave you a weird feeling in your stomach. Something tells you that the fates have your threads intertwined.

“Are you sure? With all these wedding preparations. . .” The old man grabbed your shoulders, making you flinch.

You unknowingly glared at him.

“Ah, sorry to be so presumptuous.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

You coughed, unsure how to or if you should even apologize. You decide on focusing at the task at hand. A final show before you’re eternally doomed to the Imperial Palace.

“Well then, why is nobody ready?”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2023

#yandere #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere original character #yandere oc #yandere story #yandere scenario #yandere siren #yandere royal #fem yandere #gn reader #yandere x you #yandere x reader #fem yandere x reader #yandere harem #yandere various

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yannaryartside · 4 months

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Sydney Adamu; Donna's antithesis

THE BIG PARALLEL: THE QUEEN OF THE KITCHEN

Donna's introduction to the audience is in her kitchen, where she is the leader, the center of the action; all orders come from her, and the dynamic in the family is created primarily by her. She has assigned (indirectly or so) the roles of all the family members that keep the family working in the way it does. She is the queen, the leader—a role she was given by nature.

And what is Sydney's job in the kitchen? The CDC, even when she was a sous, she was already taking the responsibilities of the CDC. She is their queen, their leader in their kitchen—a role she was given by choice.

The writers had given Sydney every opportunity to be Donna so they could show us how much of Donna she is not. Here are my favorite examples of it.

Donna brings guilt, and Sydney brings grace.

Donna created her daughter's nickname after a mistake she made as a kid (probably when Nat was nervous and afraid to fail her), messing up a recipe.

Sydney gave grace to Tina when she messed up the recipe for the mashed potatoes. Sydney could have used that opportunity to get back at Tina for making her look bad in front of Carmy and all the other stuff. Sydney decided to be the bigger person; God, Sydney was not trying to make Tina own or like her. She just decided that is not what she is. She acknowledged that Tina was trying something new and wanted to be available in case Tina needed help. Sydney gave Tina clear expectations, recognized the task's difficulty, and offered help. Later, she was graceful when a mistake was made, and gave positive reinforcement when the job was well done. We learned then that Tinas was terribly afraid of being displaced or not good enough. Sydney is giving Tina all the things Donna should have given Nat.

Another exmaple of this is when Richie and Sydney are shopping for caulk. She just buys the right one; she doesn't rub it in his face or call him stupid or careless. In all their conversation, Sydney tried to understand more, not put more fire into the pile. Richie recognizes that, and I think this is when he starts to respect her, even a little.

Donna brings chaos, Sydney brings order.

Both women have the role of being the center (heart) of the kitchen. Only Donna can touch the food in her kitchen, while Sydney delegates the kitchen tasks to the restaurant employees.

Donna gives the absence of self, and Sydney brings purpose.

To please their mother, try to win her love, or just survive the household dynamics, the Berzatto siblings had to adopt behaviors/personalities that were not natural to them. Mickey was at least 18 when his father left; he took the provider position by helping her mom run the restaurant. He also took care of his siblings. He was his ultimate ally in helping the family feel like a family, particularly by always being capable of "dialing a room" to make everyone feel entertained, appreciated, have fun, and be a family. For all these reasons, he was Donna's favorite, and the other two siblings were neglected because of it. Neither Nat of Carmy felt really like she was there for them; she probably didn't encourage Carmy to draw or Nat in anything. Nat and Carmy grew up believing their talents/nature were useless because they didn't please their mom. Neither of them recognizes the things they are good at outside the kitchen: Nat diminishes her husband's compliments on her hard work, and Carmy ignores compliments on his drawings.

Sydney, on the other hand, can encourage Marcus to follow his passion for baking. She supports Tina in her culinary journey to the point of her becoming the third person in charge. She asked Nat to be the project manager because, in the few interactions she had with her, she perceived (or it was intuition) Nat's attention to detail, caring nature, and responsibility. In the climax of the second season, she trusts Richie to do the calling of the orders when she has no reason to believe he can, and he solidifies his purpose. Sydney "nurtured" everybody's natural talents and trusted them to walk independently. That is what a good parent or leader does. It is such a brilliant subtext. Important to note she doesn't do that with Carmy, because Carmy is her equal, her partner-to-be.

Other ones:

There is also to mention the fact that Sydney was a professional driver, and Donna tried to crash a car in her own house. Talking about metaphors.

Also, Sydney doesn't indulge in any of the toxic behaviors that the Berzattos learned from Donna, neither Carmy nor Richie's bullshit nor the rest of the staff. Little by little, she fought fire with water, and she won, maybe because she is more like a river than a drop. She had a purpose on her own, an identity, a past that she kept to herself, and a desire to move forward. People started to respect her the more they relied on her and the more she didn't give in to the toxic traits that were ruling them before. They saw the good and followed it.

Sydney may not rely on toxic dynamics to lead her kitchen, but she will not let others take advantage of her. She did not pick on Carmy's slack last season for him but despite him. She doesn't believe that is what she is supposed to do, not only as her employee but friend and possible romantic interest. She calls the bad behaviors/tendencies by it's name. And communicates she won't have it, while also saying she belives in him.

I think most of the audience (besides the ones in this fandom) really doesn't understand how extraordinary Sydney is. If she wasn't as well-written as she is, with defects and fears, people would think that she is the "saint woman/magic woman" archetype, making everything previously broken work in her presence. I also think it is because she is a woman, and women are expected to bring magic and be fixers and helpers. There is also the fact that she is a black woman, and everything that comes with that, but I cannot comment on that, so I am not going to. Just saying she is one of the most amazing role models I have seen, decorated with the price of also being one of the most complex female characters on screen. She is not perfect as a person and has not reached her whole potential, and she wants it. I respect and admire her so much. Even when Carmy seems to have a longer path of healing ahead, I want Sydney to win the most, not just heal. I want to know more about her, her intimate desires, and why is her heart broken. Long gone are the days when women lived on screen to make everybody around them better and happier. All the things she is extraordinary for, the ones I talked about, are not just reasons why Carmy had admired her or fallen for her. She is, for me, a champion preparing for live-defining battles. We know who she is, and we get to discover what else she could be, to grow in her self-confidence, her purpose, and what brings pleasure to her soul. She is considered now the show's co-protagonist.

And I hope in s3 we are in for a journey. She made all the difference. Thank you for reading.

#sydcarmy #sydney adamu #sydney adamu meta #the bear meta #the bear #carmy berzatto #natalie berzatto #donna berzatto #tina the bear #marcus the bear #richie jerimovich #Sydeny adamu is my champion

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bonny-kookoo · 7 months

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Does cherry jk and Mc go further than just analyzing her tattoo? 🥴

A/N: Obv warning for NSFW. set right after the last drabble, it's basically a continuation of it.

He's torturing you. This is legitimate torture, and you're not sure if you'll survive this- and if you do, you'll probably die later because if he's already getting you to a point like this from simple touch alone, what else is he capable of?

Maybe it's the fact that you got a major crush on him that's making you more sensitive to things like this. Or maybe you've just never been treated like this.

He seems truly enamored by your body, most of all your tits that he's currently occupying himself with, lips and tongue combining with his hands, never staying in one place too long. You never really thought about a situation like this- typically, in the past, your chest had been nothing but aesthetics to past partners, something to maybe grab on during the act, but never really anything of importance.

Never something to focus on. Sex isn't about that- or at least it wasn't, back then, and it makes you wonder. What exactly does Jungkook get out of this himself?

But you fail to really concentrate on that topic, as he suddenly puts his teeth into the mix, gently biting one of your by now horribly sensitive buds to pull and let go, chuckling when your back arches off the couch. He's licking, kissing, now even biting- and you're by now convinced that you are one of those who can indeed cum from just this.

Maybe? Or maybe not? You're unsure, and you're also getting impatient. Your underwear must be soaking by now, thighs rubbing together unashamed. He's already sucking on your tits- there's really nothing to be embarrassed about.

"Wanna eat you out." He breathes over your chest, hands still fondling your soft flesh, and you whine.

"Please..!" You ask, because at this point, you can't take it anymore.

"Do you have a hairtie or something?" Jungkook wonders up at you at this invitation of yours, leaning up again to collect his hair with his hands.

"Uhm.. here?" You wonder, offering your wrist where a simple black elastic is resting around, one he takes with a grin, tying his hair back. You're not sure why exactly, his fingers brushing all of his hair back to collect as much of it as possible, getting most of it out of his face.

"Thanks." He grins, before he moves back to push down your shorts to let them fall down this time, hands moving over your thighs. "Hm.. what if we put some ink on those too?" He purrs, palms moving in between them before he changes his mind, leaving your fluffy overknees on after struggling a bit with the straps holding them up, which are connected to a lace garter belt. "Really pretty by the way. You like lingery?" He wonders casually, finally figuring out how to unhook the straps from your socks to be able to remove your panties, and you nod.

""I.. like to feel pretty.." You admit a bit quietly, and he smiles brightly at that, pulling down your underwear- and for a second you're confused why he stuffs your panties in the pocket of his sweatpants, but you don't get to question it for long, as he pulls your legs over his shoulders, body leaning down to dive in.

You don't care how he seems to know so well how to use his tongue and mouth- all that you do care about is that you're way too worked up to last very long.

Especially when his fingers join in and push inside you, you can't help but curl your toes as you summon all of your strength as to not push your legs closed. What you don't have any control over is the way your hips move- but it doesn't seem to bother him much, as he starts to suck, one drawn out lick with the flatness of his tongue enough to suddenly make you come undone.

His face leaves your core, but the heel of his hand gently helps you ride out your high, fingers leaving you after, the way you clenched around the digits giving him ideas for future endeavors-

and also enough material to make up scenarios in his head for days.

You can see him adjust himself in his pants a little, tent fairly evident- and you're not sure what you think of it. He's not asking for it- but isn't it something you should do?

Maybe the main reason you want to is both curiosity, and the fact that he doesn't immediately demand anything in return. He's nice.

You like him.

And you also want to see him- all of him.

"Hm?" He asks, wiping his mouth with his hand, before you sit up, cringing a bit at the wetness between your thighs. You slowly look down at him, gaze focusing on his obvious boner, and he chuckles. "Wanna see? We don't have to do anything, I can just rub one out later in the shower, no worries." He casually says, but you shake your head.

"I want to do something." You say. "But.. I might not be good at it?" You worry, and he laughs.

"Practice makes perfect." He shrugs. "If you wanna, you can." Jungkook offers, moving down his pants before he pulls himself out of his underwear.

Everything he does is always so.. normal. As if this is nothing special at all- but in a good way. There's no pressure to make things as perfect as possible. It's comfortable.

When you touch him, he hisses a bit, even his dick twitching a bit, as if startled. "Sorry- your hands are cold." He laughs, and you giggle along.

"Sorry." You apologize as well, moving around to see what makes him feel good. It's not like you've never given a handjob in your life- but this time you actually don't feel like you have to, and it's making you wonder how you can offer him the same as you've received.

But your next move surprises even yourself, because this, you haven't done before.

You lean down to take his tip into your mouth, causing a faint 'oh god' to breathe past his lips above you, hand finding your head as you circle your tongue over the head, feeling the rest of him twitch on occasion. You fail to really take him and deeper, so you instead let go of his cock to spit in your hand, unsure how else really to make movement any more comfortable for the both of you.

He groans at that. It sounds almost pained.

Hopefully your hands are now warm enough as you move, lick and suck, trying to judge from the way his balls seem to tighten in your palm how close he might be-

When his hand pushes a little, fingers digging into your hair to grab tightly, head and upper body leaning back on his unoccupied hand keeping him somewhat upright as he cums, thick seed filling your mouth in several spurts.

He breathes loudly, before he lets go of your head, surprised face clearly showing a hint of worry as he inspects you, thinking he might've hurt you as you cringe a bit. His hands hold your cheeks, eyes darting around to judge if he's been a bit too rough with that push, when you look at him.

"It's bitter." You complain, and he laughs in relief, resting his forehead against yours, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt.

"God you're cute!"

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts smut #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

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virgincels · 6 months

Text

hii another leon thing im never gonna finish sooo hiiii :3 reader is gn but is referred to as looking feminine, sorta nsfw

The attic is jam packed with pink fibreglass that Leon told you not to touch. You touch it, get itchy, then try to hide the itch from him. He notices, hits you on the back of the head lightly, doesn’t scold you ‘cause he’s not capable of that. Wouldn’t dream of it.

He doesn’t have a lot of memories. You’ve got multiple boxes chock-full of water damaged photos, thick albums with torn pages, and art dating back to when you were in preschool. You notice the wistful smile on his face and tuck everything away, push the box against the back wall where it’s left to gather dust.

“What’s this?” You rifle through his old things, pull out all sorts of chunky gadgets.

“Game boy,” he tells you.

“No way, I’ve never actually seen one before!” That makes him wince. “I wonder how much we could sell it for.”

“Hey,” he plucks it from your grasp, “don’t go sellin’ my things, this is useful.”

While he tries to get it working, mumbling something ‘bout how it might be good for your future kids, which you firmly doubt, you rummage through his belongings. Would you look at that? Somebody’s got a naughty streak.

Playboy February 1995. Fabulous at 40. The Girls Next Door All Grown Up. PLAYBOY’S FIRST INTERNATIONAL SEX SURVEY.

Dirty old man.

So he’s been keeping these stashed in the loft all this time?

The lady on the front is totally his type, dark-haired and red-lipped, you wonder who the centrefold is, probably some blonde bombshell you’ve never heard of. There’s a few pages that have been dog-eared, you flick through them, he hasn’t noticed yet.

Only when you wave it around in front of his face, a page that’s been worn down beyond belief, lightly crusted over with god knows what. You’d rather not find out. That’s not really what catches your eye anyway, ‘cause you let him stuff your throat nightly, a little jizz shouldn’t bother you.

Leon swipes it away from you quickly, always swift in his reflexes. He’s flustered, you see it in his trembling fingers, his parted lips, that sheepish look on his face. Cute.

“Leon, she totally looks like me,” you pry his fingers from the magazine to keep it from getting more crumpled than it already is. Point at the busty model dressed in nothing but her million dollar smile. Heroin Chic must’ve never been his thing, ‘cause she’s got the nicest rack you’ve ever seen. Pornstar tits.

“No she don’t, she’s…” He starts, shut down by your glare a second later.

“Liar,” you flap it around, “this is what I would look like if I had a good plastic surgeon.”

“You don’t need a surgeon, babe.”

“Aw, you think so, baby?” You give him a wet kiss on the cheek, “you’re soo sweet to me.”

He snickers, you’re easily placated.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x reader #🪷.shorts

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ghostchems · 3 months

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bad idea right? - raphael x f!tav (part three)

you set foot into raphael's kingdom without a chaperone to retrieve the hammer he's promised you.

author's note: read part one/two. sorry for taking so long with the next installment. 4.2k words! there's lots in here. haarlep makes an appearance (of course). cunnilingus, face sitting, blowjob, rough sex, overstimulation. ao3 link.

You only caught a glimpse of the House of Hope when Raphael whisked you away during your first meeting but now you’ve nearly been through it top bottom. Yes, he told you to come here and go straight to the boudoir to retrieve the Orphic Hammer but were you really going to give up the opportunity to go through all his stuff? Of course not.

His house floats in the desolate hellscape of Avernus, yet he has no allegiance to Zariel as far as you’re aware. It’s moody and dramatic, two key adjectives for Raphael himself. The archive is overflowing with infernal knowledge, bookshelves from floor to ceiling and his prized possessions on display as if it’s a museum. The dining room is just as grand as you remembered it but with a hint of unease due to the rotting food. He knew he was having company - shouldn’t he have at least cleaned up? You attention is pulled from statues of devils to portraits of himself to the grapes and wine and hookahs seemingly strategically left throughout the house. You fine yourself drawn to the many balconies that oversees the green souls keeping the house afloat. You wonder what would happen if you fell. Will your soul be dammed? Will your bones turn to ash? Will you shed your human body and be stripped down to the delicious soul you are?

You may have learned more about Raphael in the last half hour than all of your other meetings combined. Much to your companions ire, you’ve stopped to speak to every single debtor. They’re broken. Broken souls worn down to the very essence of their being, cursed to toil away in eternity in Raphael’s House of Hope. Something about it… tickles you. He’s been nothing more than “helpful” since you’ve met him, sure the threats have always been there, but seeing what he is actually capable of with your own two eyes makes you remember what he is. A devil. A cambion, specifically. He could turn you inside out with the snap of his finger. But he doesn’t. He’s touched you instead, slithered his way between your legs just as the tadpole has wormed into your brain. Does he see you as a formidable ally? Or another plaything to break down? You wonder if Raphael has already started on you — if this is apart of your deal, scribbled in infernal (a language you can’t read) on your contract.

The thought makes you shiver. It makes you want him all over again. Even if he hasn’t started trying to wear you down… you hope he’ll try.

Speaking of Hope. You didn’t know what to expect when he gave you the order to steer clear but it certainly wasn’t a dwarven cleric being held captive in his basement. She accosted you the moment you set foot into her home, begging you to help her. You smiled and told her you would, the hero that you are. It was a lie, of course. She is desperate and broken but she still clings to her namesake. You can understand why Raphael would keep her — she rebukes his every advance and won’t give up her optimism. She believes she can be saved, and maybe she’s right but your hands are tied. Still, the thought of him having her here to continue to torture when he could be focusing that energy on you. You decide to at least bring it up to him the next time you see him, which has yet to be “scheduled”. Part of you wants him to be waiting for you in the boudoir, hammer and a glass of wine in hand.

“For all the sense of dread and horror seeping through this place I really feel quite at home.” Astarion chirps, tearing you away from your thoughts in an effort to get you back to the task at hand. He’s far more understanding than the others and at this point you’re not sure what you would do without him. You offer him a small smile and start to lead your merry group of companions to the boudoir. A crowd, certainly. But this should be easy — pop in, take the hammer which is the salvation for all of Faerūn and then have a pint at Elfsong (and maybe a visit from a certain devil later that evening).

The boudoir is expansive and you can see why it is held in such high esteem by the debtors. There’s a large, steaming bath surrounded by more grapes and wine. You fight off the urge to dip a toe in. There are several desks with journals, quills, books all stacked on top and large canvas paintings of hellish scenes and dark portraits. If these walls could talk…

You see sparks out of the corner of your eye, your head twisting to see an empty space where you companions once stood behind you. A trap. This is a trap. Your chest tightens and you swear to yourself, you should have known something wasn’t right. Anger boils within you and a readiness rises to swing your blade at the next living, breathing thing that comes into your eye line. You keep your hand firm on the handle of your sword and move deeper into the spacious room. Are you a fool to have fallen for Raphael’s trickery? Or is he really that good? Even in the face of potential betrayal,

“Raphael?!” You are bewildered, mouth agape and eyebrows furrowed. The devil gives a delighted laugh as he slinks to his knees, his wings stretching out behind him. You blink a few times, overwhelmed just by the sight of him — displayed in all his glory in a leather harness, even though you are sure this is some sort of trick. The second he opened his mouth, you knew. You suck in a deep breath, steeling yourself to focus.

“No, no, love… has he not told you about me?” Haarlep bares his fangs in a sinister smile, creeping closer to you at the edge of the bed. His tail slithers back and forth behind him, dangerous yet playful. You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off — “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, mouse.” Warmth blossoms in your chest. He talks about you? Haarlep swings his legs over the edge of the bed and lifts himself to his feet, his body becoming the only thing you could possibly focus on. He lingers in front of you and eyes you as if you are a delicious meal, his tongue wetting his lips and a low hum rumbling from his chest. “A pretty little toy, aren’t you?”

“I… no, he hasn’t told me about you.” Confusion. Utter confusion. And, is it… is it hot in here? You’re sweating — you can feel it on your brow. “I’m here for the hammer.” Back to business. “We made a deal and he said it would be here.” Your voice strains, a mix of frustration and being so completely lost in the situation.

“A shame.” Haarlep purrs and leans in closer, leering over you with a sharp smile. “I am not too surprised though — how does one bring up having their own personal incubus who takes their form in casual conversation?” A claw runs along your jaw, the tip of his nail giving you goosebumps. From your adventure in Raphael’s house, it was easy to come to the conclusion that he has a plethora of kinks but this — this is something else. “You’re here for the hammer, that is correct, my dear, but you are also here to play.” His tail starts to slink up your leg and warmth starts to pool in your core.

“B-but Raphael —”

“You have his permission, mouse. And, fun fact about me using Raphael’s likeness — he’ll be able to feel everything we do. He’s expecting it, in fact, and I’m sure he’s looking forward to it.” Haarlep’s claw closes around your chin and forces you to gaze into his familiar burning eyes. Black holes. You feel their pull. “Perhaps he is conducting business right now — could you imagine? Him trying to make a deal while being able to taste you on his lips?” A jolt of arousal rushes through you, bringing a blush to your cheeks. Haarlep’s lips twitch into a devilish grin as you fall right into his grasp. The image he’s painted for you is beyond tempting; having Raphael be helpless to your touch while he’s off doing his devilish duties, desperate to conceal his erection. And, well, you have his permission, don’t you?

Haarlep lets go of your chin and swishes by you, his warm bicep brushing your shoulder and his tail flicking against your ankle. Your eyes trail after him, catching a glimpse of his toned back and his wing joints, veins bulging from the taut skin. You wonder if Raphael’s looks the same. It dawns on you that you haven’t seen much of his skin, in fact, you haven’t even seen his cock yet despite him spilling his seed inside you. You swallow thickly and take a step back, the backs of your knees hitting the foot of the bed.

“Cat got your tongue, mouse?” Haarlep moves in closer to you, the heat radiating off his body making your chest flush.

“No.” You answer sharply before slowly sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on your palms and spreading your legs wide. His eyes rake over your figure, tilting his head to get a better look at you. You say nothing but Haarlep understands and sinks to his knees in front of you with his head settling at eye level. A hand rests on his chest, coarse hairs underneath your fingertips as you start to wander lower. Haarlep’s arms curl around your back, the tip of his nose just about touching yours as his body makes your legs spread even more. The heat between you is palpable and only continues to grow while you start to stroke at the ridges along his hips. It’s unusual for Haarlep to get this sort of attention, from both guests of the House and Raphael himself.

“You do not deserve to call such a man ‘Master’.” He can’t help it, locking eyes with yours. His words sting but the feeling is quickly washed away by his tongue slipping into your mouth. The breath leaves your lungs, sinking into the hellfire that is Haarlep. Nothing matters but how he tastes you in a deep kiss, his claws pricking at delicate skin beneath your sleeves. You top is gone in a matter of seconds and whether your helped him take it off of you or it disappeared with magic is beyond your at this point. All you want to do is feel. He breaks the kiss and brushes his lips along your jaw, his teeth nipping right where it meets your earlobe. You pull him closer by his harness until he is flush against you. Haarlep trails kisses further down your neck and your collarbone, sucking and biting enough to draw gasps and hums from you. He gently guides you to lay down on your back, his entire body enveloping you until he starts to move his mouth lower and lower.

Each kiss is like an explosion of sensations along your skin, buzzing and burning yet feeling so deliciously blissed out. You’re melting into the mattress, melting into him, each touch of his taking more and more of you. He leaves a trail of goosebumps in his wake, his mouth then closing around your nipple. His tongue flutters around your hardened peak, making you tip your head back as you give a breathy moan. His hands are somehow everywhere all at once; Fingers feather through his hair and then settle at the base of his horns while he continues his descent. You feel him mouth around your navel with light scrapes of his teeth, his hands slinking down to tug at your pants. He takes his time, pulling them down inch by inch, lavishing kisses across your hip bones. You wriggle out of your pants, growing impatient but not wanting to order him.

Haarlep tongue lazily traces your clit and a ragged gasp escapes your lips, a jolt of pleasure rocketing through you. He laps at your slick folds, groaning at the taste of you and presses his face into you, his nose settling just at your clit. Your grip on his hair tightens and you can’t stop yourself from giving it a sharp tug as you squirm and huff. His claws curl around your thighs, the tips of them digging into the tender flesh of your inner thighs. You’re seeing stars, his tongue pressing into you so deeply while he grunts and laps at your juices. Your back arches off the mattress, your mouth hanging open and spilling hoarse moans. It’s devastatingly sensuous, your temperature rising to a comfortable simmer as your mind starts to clear. This could be forever, couldn’t it? You could stay here with Haarlep’s head between your thighs, devouring you until nothing else matters.

Your hands close around two of his horns and your hips start to roll, tugging him with each of your fluid movements. He growls into your cunt, making your thigh and core muscles tense, a deep groan falling from your lips. You’re so far gone yet so close to the edge, his tongue laving at your core as his claws dig even dipper into your thighs. The fire in your abdomen is raging, overwhelming you almost to the point of no return with soft moans turning to deep whines. You hear a rumbling groan, one too deep to be Haarlep’s, just as your dam bursts. Your eyes flutter open and you see him — Raphael — in cambion form with his navy blue doublet and a smug expression on his face. A broken sob heaves from your chest, Haarlep savoring the taste of your cum.

“Enjoying the amenities, are we?” Oh, he sounds so pleased with himself. If you had any energy you would mouth off but all you’re able to muster is a dramatic eye roll. Raphael slinks out of view, the bed dipping behind your from his weight. He had planned for this, the bastard. Your mouth is still slack and your heart is still pounding, trying to come down from an impossible high when Haarlep grips you by the hips and flips you over, your chin nearly landing in Raphael’s lap. He grabs you, his claw nearly clasped around your entire head and lifts you so that you’re looking up at him, though he makes sure you’re able to get a nice view of how hard he is through his trousers. “You taste sweet, little mouse. It’s only fair that you taste me after how wound up you’ve got me. Allow me to assist in getting you started.” His voice is dangerously low, glee in his fiery eyes as he unlaces his trousers, freeing his leaking cock**.**

It renders you speechless, larger than any cock you’ve seen before and it’s ribbed, a pearl of pre-cum already collecting at the top. Your jaw drops and Raphael takes this as an opportunity, forcing your mouth around him and guides you down his length. You groan as soon as you taste him, his cock heavy on your tongue as you run it along the underside, feeling every bulging vein. He’s so large that you drool and gag once he hits the back of your throat, swallowing and trying to breath comfortably. Haarlep is lurking behind you but you’re too focused at the task at hand to notice — until it’s too late. He positions his head between your legs, this time underneath you, his horns flush with your stomach, hands digging into your ass as his tongue savors your folds.

A moan of surprise rumbles up your throat and your head wrenches backward. Raphael’s grip on your head tightens and forces you back down his length with a violent tug. You’re eyes are watering and you struggle to breathe with his pulsing cock shoved down your throat while Haarlep toys with your clit, pinching it between his fangs and flicking his pointed tongue. Raphael bucks his hips into your mouth, fucking your face as he growls with need. You whimper around him, your vision blurring further from the tears in your eyes and the building tension in your core. You feel helpless, used. It’s the first time with Raphael you’ve felt you didn’t have the upper hand, or at least a cool head. The devils have reduced you to a mewling mess, a toy for them to play with. You mindlessly grind you hips against Haarlep’s face and he groans into you, his nose pressing firmly into your clit. A choked sob falls from your lips, your fingers digging into the sheets and your skin buzzing.

“Your lips are so pretty around my cock, mouse.” Raphael croons and tilts your head up so he can see you. Your cheeks are flushed and streaked in tears, your lips swollen and eyes half-lidded. He would paint you if he wasn’t so preoccupied by that mouth of yours. Hmm, perhaps he could paint your face. His claws dig into the sides of your head as he pulls you off of his cock, his other hand giving himself a few strong pumps before spilling his seed on your face. You’re panting, gasping for air as you sink forward, your cheek landing on the soft sheets. Raphael lifts himself off the bed but you’re too tired to lift your head to watch him, instead focusing on steadying your breath.

“You’ve had your fill.” He sneers and pulls Haarlep out from underneath you who gives a frustrated snarl. There’s some bickering but you’re too overstimulated to listen. After a moment Raphael’s claws settle on your waist with a low hum. He says nothing as he drags his cock along your dripping folds and you give a sharp whine, scrambling to adjust yourself. Your hips press back into him, sinking himself deep inside you with a calculated thrust. Primal lust explodes and courses through your body as you give a broken sob, your legs trembling and your core tensing while you ease his size. One large claw rests on the side of your head, nearly covering your eyes with his long fingers, and he clamps down on you, your face smushed against the mattress. His hips buck wildly against your ass, his pace brutal and punishing but you are basking in it, pushing back into each of his thrusts.

You feel his devilish strength, each roll of his hips sending you forward, your face buried in the covers as you cry and whine in twisted pleasure. Raphael has you laid bare. You’re nothing but a hole to him right now, a means to get him off just as he uses Haarlep. But there’s something about it that sends shivers down your spine: the possessiveness of it all. His claw is splayed out over your head, his other one digging harshly into your hip, slicing your flesh and making you bleed. The only thing on his mind is having you, having you in his true form, exerting his strength over you until you’re a quivering mess. He wants to fill you. Raphael hikes your ass up even higher and fucks into you, the new angle making your toes curl. You moan his name and he gives a pleased purr, driving into you quicker and harder.

You body feels as though it splits apart, overcome with your white hot climax. He rest his entire body weight on you now, crushing you beneath him as he buries himself deep inside you, over and over. His hot breath fills your ear, sharp and strained. You’re shivering, tears staining the sheets. Raphael utters one last hiss, teeth grazing your ear as he spills himself inside you, his hips slowing with each pulse of his cock. He’s on top of you until he’s spent, his nose nuzzling into your hair.

You can’t feel your limbs. Your body is trembling, your voice hoarse in your throat as you manage a weak protest. Raphael has you on your back in the blink of an eye, his tail slithering up your hips while he slots himself between your legs, using his knees to spread them further. His board is hard against yours, his clothes having disappeared. Your breath catches in his throat at the pressure of the top of his hard cock against your entrance. Surely you couldn’t take any more of this? You feel like you are about to melt away physically and mentally, your body limp and your brain fogged from the intense overstimulation. Raphael’s massive claws close around both your wrists, pinning them to the bed as his forearms cage you beneath him. The edge in his fiery eyes has softened and his nose drifts along your cheek, taking a deep inhale of your scent.

“A delicate little thing, aren’t you, sweetling?” He growls into your ear, his mouth hot and his sharp teeth pricking your skin. You open your mouth to answer but Raphael shifts his hips forward, the head of his ridged cock easily slipping inside you, the words getting caught in your throat. He hums against your ear and then drags his sharp tongue down the side of your neck. Your eyes roll back, squeezing them shut as he gives a languid thrust and pushes in to the hilt, a loud gasp forcing its way up your throat. Arms slip around his broad shoulders, body arching into his and you feel yourself start to disappear. Raphael lifts his head and hovers his mouth above yours. A groan vibrates up his chest to his throat, his lips parted as he continues at a lazy pace. He can’t get enough of your reactions, your cheeks flushed a delicious shade of pink, your lips swollen from how he fucked your face earlier and those sweet, breathless sounds that are spilling from them.

This is a stark contrast from how he had just taken you, his hips circling in slow, sensual movements that has your core twisting in arousal despite your exhaustion. His own deep moans send current after current through you, reigniting your passion and need for him. You bring your hips up to meet his with each thrust and he bares his teeth as your writhing grows more fluid. Raphael releases your wrists so that he can drag one of his sharp claws down your collarbone and along your side, leaving scratch marks. You move your hand to his hair and you realize this is the first time he’s been comfortably within grasp. Self control out the window, you touch his pointed and then bravely run your fingertips over his horns. Despite looking rugged and razor-sharp they’re smooth beneath your fingers. You wrap your hand around one of them and give it a gentle tug.

“Mouse.” The word is strained, sounding like a warning or potentially a challenge. You take the gamble and pull on his horn again. Raphael shudders, an uncontrolled moan spilling from his lips. His mouth drops open, lips curled into a blissful smile. You hum in response, feeling a deep flush in your chest from his reaction. His eyes sharpen as the feeling passes, slowing his thrusts and silence falling between you. Your breath catches in your throat, tension in your chest, your mind hurdling a million miles an hour suddenly because you feel like you’re in trouble. Raphael slowly moves his claw to curl underneath your chin, eyes locking with his. He groans, his entire body rumbling against you and leans in, capturing your lips. It’s shockingly gentle, passionate that only increases with his need to consume you. His hips jerk, tail wrapping tightly around your leg only to peel you further apart as he picks up his thrusts again. Your tongue runs along his sharp fangs and he purrs into your mouth, biting down on your tongue and lip playfully.

You’re all too aware of the way he throbs inside you, his ridges massaging your walls in a way that makes you see stars. Raphael’s growling grows deeper, vibrating through him as his pace starts to grow ragged, frantic and out of time. He gives a strangled hiss into your mouth, his body shuddering while he empties himself inside you. You’re already so full that it seeps down the insides of your thighs. Raphael breaks the kiss and presses his nose to your flushed cheek, catching his breath.

“I won’t stop. Not ever. Not until I own you completely.” A hot whisper of the clearest words he’s ever spoken to you. You sink further into the mattress, melting away as he rises over you, his red wings ruffling behind him. His obsession with you is written all over his face, his eyes taking in every part of your exhausted body, plotting more ways to keep you in his bed. He cracks his neck and his expression hardens in an effort to get back to the business at hand, though you feel one of his hands stroke at your arm.

“Rest now, mouse.”

Comfortable darkness envelopes you.

#raphael x tav #bg3 raphael x tav #raphael bg3 x tav #bg3 raphael #raphael #what do i even tag this ahahaaa #oo haarlep!#haarlep #haarlep x tav #haarlep x tav x raphael

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writer-in-theory · 1 year

Text

A Cat Named Eddie — part two

part one part two part three

Eddie half-expected it to blow over.

It was cruel, sure, but it wasn't like worse hadn't been said before. He hadn't forgotten the words they used to throw at each other in school, or even the slight off-center teasing the entire group participated in.

Steve had crossed a line first, he was just readjusting the center. That was all.

Except it hadn't blown over, and now things were weird. Eddie hadn't realized how often he saw Steve until that presence disappeared entirely. When Steve dropped off the kids for D&D, he stayed firmly in the car, or sometimes even sent Nancy or Jonathan to do it instead. There weren't anymore night when Steve would come over with a pack of beer and and some cigarettes, whispering for him to not tell Henderson he was smoking again like it was some tightly held secret. Steve still came to movie nights in the Wheeler basement—if only because the others would notice if he wasn't there—but instead of sitting next to each other whispering about the cool new effects or how they would've better handled a horror situation, they sat on opposite sides of the basement.

It sucked, frankly.

"What the hell did you do to Steve?" Dustin came charging at the van the second he pulled back up to the trailer. How long had the kid been waiting there for him?

Eddie groaned, looking over at Dustin as dramatically as he could manage. "Isn't he supposed to be working on your language?"

"Eddie!"

"I didn't do anything to Harrington," Eddie told him, though the expression on Dustin's face showed just how unconvinced he was. "He started it."

He winced at the way it sounded, already anticipating the unimpressed look Dustin was giving him. "Really, Eddie? He started it? What are you, four?"

"Hey! This is adult stuff, you'll understand when you're older."

"Doesn't sound like it. Sounds more like you're in e—"

"Henderson, nothing happened between Steve and I. I dunno what he said to make you think that but we'll be fine."

"He's moping, Eddie," Dustin practically whined. "It hasn't been this bad since Nancy. Can't you just apologize for whatever he thinks you did so you can kiss and make up?"

"Who says I did anything?"

"I think you both did something stupid," Dustin corrected, crossing his arms over his chest. It was alarming how quickly he was beginning to mimic Steve's mannerisms. "Just fix it."

And sure, maybe the kid had a point. He was one of the smartest people Eddie had ever met, so of course he did. That didn't make it any easier to consider how to do such a thing. It was easy to say 'fix it', but a whole lot harder to figure out what to fix in the first place.

So it was another week until anything else happened. Another week of no Steve, another week of not being able to sleep and realizing he'd been relying on phone calls to the other man to lull him back to sleep when he had a nightmare. Even when it was Steve who called, it always seemed like Eddie could get back to sleep much better than before.

Three weeks after the incident, Eddie stepped foot back inside Family Video.

"Get out," Robin immediately spoke from the center counter, not looking up from the tapes she was organizing to place back on the shelves.

"Missed you too, Buckley," Eddie tried to tease, but the look Robin gave him was harsh, cold in a way he wasn't sure the band nerd had ever been capable of before. "Okay, I get it, I hurt Harrington's feelings."

Robin glanced over at a door on the back wall, maybe the break room, before she looked back at him. "You didn't just hurt his feelings, asshole."

"He was—" Eddie started, voice raising a higher pitch before he told himself to relax. Instead, he leaned over the counter to close their proximity. "What if Harrington hasn't really changed as much as you think he has?"

Robin blinked, wordlessly watching him for a few seconds. Then she scoffed, rolled her eyes, then refocused on the tapes scattered around her. "I think you're the one who's stuck in high school, Eddie."

"What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You're so focused on him being a jock that you're totally missing the obvious. I mean come on, I thought Harrington was the biggest dingus I'd ever be friends with but you might've beaten him."

"I hate to ask this..." Eddie started, lifting his eyes to look to the ceiling as though the answer might be plastered there. "But what's the obvious?"

Robin looked up at him, really looked at him, then shook her head. "I cannot wait until you two figure this one out."

Eddie had no idea what the fuck Robin meant by that, and it certainly didn't get any clearer as the days passed.

It was impossible not to linger on it, though. He laid in bed unable to sleep, just thinking about what the hell she was trying to tell him. He ended up trying to replay the last day he'd spoken to Steve, tried to figure out where it all went so wrong, how all of this ended up pinned on him when Steve was the one who—

He walked into Family Video that day. Robin and Steve were talking. He eavesdropped. Okay, not the best start.

Steve said Eddie had sat on his lap. And bit him. And slept with him.

No, he said they slept in the same bed.

It still didn't make sense. All of it still sounded like the setup to a bad joke, like the second Eddie acknowledged it Steve would jump out with the 'I gotcha'. None of it made sense, because of there was no 'gotcha' then what was the point of saying all of that to Robin? To the kids? Why make everyone think they were closer than they were? Why bring up all of these things right as Eddie figured out he kind of liked the idea of laying in bed with Steve Harrington?

Eddie wanted to scream.

Instead, he got out of bed, tossed on a jacket, and started walking. It was just beginning to get colder, enough that he needed to curl his shoulders inward the more he walked. There was no destination in mind, though he ended up somewhere anyway.

He ended up by the Harrington house, of course.

It would've been easier to turn around and walk away, pretend he had never showed up there. But Eddie was tired of running, and maybe this would at least prove something to the both of them (what that was, he still wasn't sure). At the very least, maybe the strange ache in his chest that hadn't gone away since he heard Steve's words weeks ago would ease enough that he could breathe freely again. So he knocked.

Steve looked like he wanted to close the door in Eddie's face. Maybe they both deserved it, to not be friends and not figure out this whole situation and to just sit in this hurt forever until all of their friends got tired of their bullshit. Except Eddie was tired of deserved too, having heard plenty of what he 'deserved' after Chrissy was killed.

"We need to talk," Eddie spoke up, and Steve sighed and nodded, though didn't move from the doorway.

"It's fine, man, there's nothing to talk about," Steve told him. "We're good, I'm fine."

"Well as long as Harrington is fine," Eddie returned quickly, wincing immediately after. "I'm not. Nothing about this is fine."

Steve sighed and leaned his hip against the doorframe. And shit, why did he get to look so annoyed that this conversation was happening? Eddie deserved an apology too, didn't he? Didn't he?

"Yeah, okay this was a mistake," Eddie hissed, taking a step backward and shaking his head.

"What now?" Steve snapped, nothing but pure annoyance and frustration in his voice. It reminded him of all the times people told him to shut up, to get over it. Not everyone is gonna like you, not everyone wants to be your friend. But damn did he want to be more with Steve.

"You don't even get it, do you?" Eddie returned, feeling that same uncontrollable anger bubble up in him. How dare Steve be annoyed now, when he'd come to try to figure things out? "You think you can make fun of whatever freak dares to like you? Well guess what, Harrington, it's not fucking funny, and when you fuck up most people want an apology."

"What are you talking about?" Steve threw his hands in the air, one continuing up to tug and pull at his hair. "You've been acting so c—"

"Crazy? That's it, right? I'm crazy Eddie Munson, so desperate for you I'll just bite you or something?"

"What are you—"

"I heard you," Eddie confessed. "At Family Video, I heard you making fun of me. Telling Robin all about how the gay guy was sitting in your lap and sleeping in your bed. That's not cool you know, lies like that get people hurt."

"I—" Steve's hazel eyes widened in realization. He shook his head, disbelieving as he watched Eddie. And fuck, did that look on Steve's face irritate the hell out of him. "You're kidding me."

"Here's a tip, don't talk gossip in public, big boy."

"So you heard me talking, you were confused, and instead of just asking like a normal person, you assumed I was a terrible human being? I have that right?" Well it sounded bad when Steve put it that way.

Eddie shrugged, to which Steve scoffed, shoulders deflating.

"Right, it's not that far off to assume I'd do that, huh?" Steve responded. He looked sad, those hazel eyes looking as doe-like as ever. The ache in Eddie's chest went away, but it was replaced by something sharper, the distinct feeling that something had gone horribly wrong here. "Look, I...I don't know why I named him that. I just...he looked a little rough at first, and then when I gave him a safe place to land he had this huge personality. He's goofy, and full of energy, and so loving I just..." Steve shrugged, bending down to pick up something from behind the door.

It was a fucking cat. The little guy was all black and a little too thin, though looked to be on the up and up. He was curled up comfortably in Steve's arms, where even now one large hand idly scratched behind one ear.

"You have a cat. You got a cat and you named it Eddie," Eddie said dully, monotone with the shock of the whole thing. Dread filled his stomach, pitting something dark and heavy there. "You named a cat after me."

"My mistake," Steve answered, grabbing onto the edge of the door with his free hand. "Forgive me, I'm just a dumb jock, you know."

"Wait, Steve—" Eddie rushed to grab onto the door but it had already closed tightly, leaving him outside with no way to fix the situation.

He'd fucked up, big time, but at least now he knew what Robin meant. He knew, and now he wouldn't stop until he fixed things. He would, because Steve named a cat after him.

Just one more part. It was really meant to be just this part but it was getting a little long, my apologies! And don't worry, there'll be fluff and some eddie the cat joy in there too.

Tagging whoever asked on the last reply, sorry if I missed anyone or tagged someone accidentally! It's totally not necessary, but a small reminder that I really appreciate feedback or if you enjoyed it, reblogs💜

@oxidantdreamboat @moonshadows-13 @ohlook-afrog @estrellami-1 @sjullay @doubleb11 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @nelotegreitic @liketheocean @background-noise-headache @wowimwhatibingewatch @obsessive-anddepressive @colorful565 @krazyperson @nonsense-of-dimitri @whimsicalwitchm @zerokrox-blog @electrick-marionnett @the-redthread @juststeddiebrainrot @dollalicia @vi-an-te @lioniheart @unclewaynemunson @stevesbipanic @ajamlessbaby @qomrades @ivydragon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @apricottree @gleek4twd @messrs-weasley @makewavesandwar @renaissan-vvitch @artiststarme @suikatto @proudbaconatornyoom @ilikechocolatemilkh @0o-queendean-o0 @dangdirtydemons @v3lnys @mybradforddream

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #misunderstandings #stranger things #steddie angst #steddie headcanon #steddie ficlet #jay writes in theory

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Note

AH I've been waiting for requests to be open! i love love loveeee your writing!! I've been in dire need (if you feel like writing it lol) of reader comforting jamie after the locker room scene w his dad at wembley.. like maybe instead of roy hugging him the reader swoops in? you do you! thanks!! <3

Listened to 17 Pushing 24 by Sabrina Sterling while writing this. Highly recommend ✌️🥲

i know what i’m doing

Sometimes Jamie wonders if you two are attracted to each other due to your compelling need to take care of everything.

It certainly was difficult at first, both of you with residual issues due to your upbringing. His as the only son of a single mother, yours as the oldest daughter of a large family.

Those types of child-caretakers aren’t always compatible. Jamie’s much more lighthearted about the way he tries to control everything, and you’re more serious.

You’d think it would be easier, both of you taking care of each other, except for the small fact that neither of you were capable of accepting help from the other.

It came to a head one evening when Jamie came home to you crying in the laundry room, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the tasks you had yet to complete before going to bed.

“Love, I can help you,” Jamie had said.

“No! It’s my laundry and my responsibility and you already have enough to do without me burdening you even more,” you replied before dissolving into more tears.

So yeah, it was a whole thing. It involved therapy and everything.

But you’re moving past it. You’re both getting to a point where each of you can receive the same love that you’re giving, however strange it may feel. Jamie even let you stay home from work to take care of him when he was sick a couple weeks ago, something that was pretty much unheard of up to this point.

You’re channeling the need to control things in healthy ways, like having all of AFC Richmond over to Jamie’s giant house for potluck-style family dinners. Or hosting non-video game nights, where FIFA is strictly banned as a form of entertainment. Or themed outings where everyone had to dress as something that shared the first letter of their name and then go see a movie at the local theater.

Stuff like that.

You’re the brains, Jamie is the execution. You can see Isaac side-eyeing him a couple times, making mental notes about temporary captains in the event that he can’t play a match.

Jamie’s gone from Richmond’s resident prick to Richmond’s resident morale-booster.

He comes home one evening with brighter eyes than normal.

“Babe,” he calls before he’s even in the door, “Coach said I can go back to being a prick again.”

“Ted said that?” you ask from your spot on the couch. You’re laying down length-wise with your legs dangling off the end.

“Fuck no,” Jamie replies, “Roy.”

“Oh,” you say as Jamie plops his bags down. You sit up a little so he can have a spot on the couch. He pats his lap so you lay back down, head on his thigh.

“Roy said that Ted fucked me up, so ‘when it’s appropriate’” (he uses air quotes) “I can be a prick to the other team.”

“That’s nice, babe,” you say, “but how do you know when to do that?”

Jamie shrugs. “Coach said he’d give me a signal. Don’t know what it is, though.”

You say, “hm,” then lapse into comfortable silence, Jamie’s hand running through your hair.

—

The prick signal worked so much better than you could have thought. It’s the best. You see Jamie go from playing defensively to being completely offensive, screwing with the other team’s heads. You scream and clap as he scores, while Keeley practically throttles you with joy.

Now it’s late after the game, and the lads are all over at Jamie’s. They’re absolutely exhausted, but buzzing with energy. It isn’t until about 1am that they disperse to the various guest bedrooms and pass out on top of each other. You catch a glimpse of Dani cuddling Jan Maas who’s asleep in a starfish position as Colin sneaks in to draw on their faces with sharpie.

“Don’t tell anyone it was me,” he whispers. You zip your lips and head to the master bedroom and pretty much fall onto the right side of the bed.

Jamie comes in shortly after, saying something about Isaac telling a bedtime story. He burrows under the covers and you quietly shriek because he’s placed his ice-cold hands on your ribcage.

“How are you so cold?” you whisper.

Jamie shrugs sleepily. “Dunno,” he whispers back. “Got ice in my veins, I guess.”

You smile. “You’re tired, aren’t you babe?”

Jamie shakes his head and stifles a yawn. “Nah, ain’t tired. Thinkin’ about our match against Man City.”

He says it casually. Too casually.

You see, both you and Jamie have this thing where the more nonchalantly you say something, the more important it is.

You prop yourself up a bit so you can face him and scratch his head. He sighs and leans in.

“You nervous?” you ask.

Jamie shakes his head. “Not to see the team. Lookin’ forward to seeing Pep. It’s just…” he trails off.

You whisper, “Yeah. I know. Whatever happens, I’m here. Don’t forget that. I’m here no matter what.”

Jamie says, “hm,” and then he’s asleep.

—

You’re running.

You’re running faster than any of the boys on the pitch had run the entire match, and you’re pushing past people in a way that Keeley would later describe as “absolutely fucking feral.”

It happened like this:

The game was over. Richmond lost to Man City.

You were on your way to see Jamie and the rest of the team.

You were, maybe, three floors away? when Rebecca got a text from Ted, showed it to you, and before you knew it you were flying down to the guest locker room to find Jamie.

Of course his dick father would show up to make this day worse. Of course he would.

You’re ducking under security and pushing your way to the locker room in a flurry of motion, then immediately stop.

It’s silent, absolutely silent.

And so still.

No one moves a muscle as your eyes land on Jamie, clinging to Roy like he’s a lifeline. Roy. Roy Kent, self-proclaimed Jamie-hater and staunch advocate against physical touch.

Jamie’s eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open at the sound of your tentative footsteps. He lets go of Roy for a moment, but only so that you can grab him in the next.

“Right,” says Roy, “Everybody get the fuck out!”

There are no complaints as the lads hurriedly grab their bags and exit the locker room.

Roy nods in your direction before leaving, and Beard mouths, “take your time.” You’re not sure where Ted’s gone off to.

Jamie feels like he’s going to collapse if he stands any longer, crushing you in the strongest grip you’ve ever felt.

“Oi,” you say gently, “let’s sit down, yeah? You don’t have to let go.”

So now you’re on the bench in Jamie’s lap, scratching his head in the way he likes, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Fucking stupid,” he says, voice muffled.

You ask, “What?” because surely that can’t be what he just said.

“I said it’s fucking stupid,” Jamie says, refusing to meet your eyes. “I’m a fucking adult. Don’t need to be crying about stupid shit, especially not in front of the lads.”

“Oh, right,” you say before you can stop yourself, “because crying after your dick father tried to swing at you when you set boundaries for the first time ever is a completely unreasonable response.”

Jamie is still in your arms and you cringe. Curse your stupid, logical tongue.

Jamie finally says, “Didn’t think about it like that.” He sighs. “It’s just fuckin’ embarrassing, innit? Him showing up here like that. Didn’t need the lads seeing that.”

You kiss his forehead.

“The only person it’s embarrassing for is him. Not you. You’re absolutely fine, Jaim. If anything, the boys are going to look at you better for finally understanding the shit you had to grow up with.”

Jamie nods, but you’re not sure if he believes you.

“Jamie,” you say firmly, “It’s not your fault. You handled it the best way it could have been handled. You did a great job.”

Those words seem to do something to Jamie, and his face takes on an expression you’ve never seen before

He asks, “You think so?” in such a forlorn manner than you have the sudden urge to find James Tartt and kick him in the balls with steel-toed shoes. You briefly wonder if Roy and Beard would like to join you.

“Yes,” you reply forcefully, “Yes Jamie. You did a wonderful job in a shitty situation and I’m very, very proud of you.”

Jamie doesn’t reply, just holds you tighter if that’s even possible. He takes a deep shuddering breath, but it’s the first real one he’s taken this entire time.

“I told you I’m here no matter what,” you say. “Just like all the times you’ve been here for me. Now I’m here for you.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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salted-bird · 1 year

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Unique interactions aside I adore how Sinclair Who Shall Grip's character is reflected on the gameplay side, we are told through his Uptie story that he doesn't believe in Faust's cause as much as he *wants* to, and it shows, because he is just godawful at the job she gave him.

For starters, Nails, the thing that defines the faction; Shall Grip Sinclair can't inflict any stacks of it.

All other N-corp IDs we have so far can apply at least one Nails, and we are informed in N-corp Don's Uptie story that the nails possess a symbolic importance for them because "the reason we pierce evil with nails beeth to utilize them as tools so the One Who Grips may enact justice". It's all about the One Who Grips, and even at his worst Sinclair is unable to aid her beyond the surface level, quite literally he can't help Faust carry out her Execution because the skill requires Nails and he can't give them.

Though it doesn't end there, the more you use them the clearer it becomes that the Faust Who Grips and Sinclair Who Shall Grip IDs don't mesh together at all. Faust's nails inflict Bleed count, Sinclair needs Burn Count, Faust's passives heal SP, Sinclair needs to stay at low SP, Whistle gives Fanatic to two allies, Sinclair hogs one stack due to always being the lowest SP ally by kit-design, but then there's how he can't make proper use of the Fanatic buff because of the SP heal ruining his tails flips, so rather than helping it's like trying to put a torn band-aid over a wound when that Fanatic could be going to someone actually capable of benefiting from it.

Sure, his skills include effects that involve other N-corp units, but first, it's a selfish interaction, they can help Sinclair but the most he will give them is a pathetic 2 Bleed on the last hit from Amoral Enactment, and second, what little ways they have to help Sinclair pale in comparison to letting him fight alongside IDs from other faction, what's a 15% damage increase compared to rolling 30 on each one of Self-destructive Purge's coins, and what's 5 Burn Potency compared the obscene amounts of Burn Count Liu Hong Lu can provide for his second skill and E.G.O? The N-corp effects are pretty much just there as lip-service, which applies to Sinclair's half-baked belief in their cause too, he shines the most when going against Nails and Hammer, and that keeps being the case even for the ID that's supposed to be on their side.

I find it funny how the closest to a synergy you can find between Faust and Sinclair is Faustie's Gaze buff, which sums up their relationship perfectly. She points to something and Sinclair kills stuff, Sinclair's core personality remains unchanged just like how the only thing that Gaze does is provide a crude damage-buff that doesn't help with any of Sinclair Who Shall Grip's obtuse mechanics, but the 'Sinclair kills stuff' part is enough for Faust.

Lastly, another point that I love is Sinclair's physical types and resistances.

All his skills deal Blunt damage, which is exactly what the N-corp Inquisitors are weak to.

Other N-corp units deal Blunt damage too, but they also have Pierce skills that the Inquisitors endure, Sinclair on the other hand doesn't waste a single bit of damage when it comes to killing them ASAP, and unlike the rest of N-corp Units, Sinclair Who Shall Grip has an Ineffective resistance for Blunt, at the same time his resistance against Pierce is normal rather than fatal, meaning he can go against the Inquisitor enemies without worrying about dying in a blink because they simply can't strike his weakness.

But of course, there's one N-corp character who Sinclair can't deal with, and it isn't Kromer, you must have seen already how she gets staggered if you bring Sinclair against her.

No, the one Nails and Hammer member who can claim the title of best counter against Sinclair Who Shall Grip is funnily enough, Faust Who Shall Grip.

Emitter is weak to Lust but it doesn't matter because Faust resists the physical type of all her skills, her passive ruins Sinclair's rolls to the point he can hit 0 as a coin value, and guess what, Sinclair's base E.G.O, Branch of Knowledge, has a fatal weakness to Pride, the element of Faust's Execution skill.

There's something so twisted yet beautiful about the fact that even in gameplay terms, Sinclair can't hope to go against Faust, while she could easily get rid of him if she ever felt like it.

But of course, what I find even more beautiful is that Sinclair Who Shall Grip has one small means of rebellion left, one last tool that can he could use to hurt Faust if he ever dares go against her: Branch of Knowledge, the E.G.O that encapsulates Sinclair's sin.

Emitter also has a fatal weakness to Gluttony, and unlike Sinclair Who Shall Grip's own skills, its physical type matches Faust Who Grips fatal weakness to Slash, making it the ideal tool for killing her.

Given how turning a blind eye to everything as a way to cope is a big part of Sinclair Who Shall Grip's character, I like how the one thing he could theoretically use to break free from his dependence on Faust is a manifestation of his inner psyche literally called Branch of *Knowledge*, I would assume these are all coincidences if it were any other game but PM has put crazier details on their works before.

#sinclair limbus company #project moon #limbus company

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creepychippy · 8 months

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My Take on Kieran from the Pokemon SV Teal Mask DLC/his Pain/Trauma (obvious and major Spoilers to the Story under the Cut):

Carmine is seen throughout the Game insulting/not treating Kieran kindly. That has tremendous Effects on his Confidence and Self-Esteem (stuttering, not confident enough to talk to others, etc)

When he sees you, the Protagonist, he immediately places you on a Pedestal, basically idolizing you and thinking you can only do right/are not capable of making Mistakes (which is a very bad Thing to do, because when you put People on a Pedestal and think very highly of them, any Mistake they'll do will shatter the perfect Image you built of them and you will grow to resent that Person because of that. Instead of unyielding Love and Admiration for them, it will turn into bitter Hatred and a Grudge forms.)

The only Thing that brings him Comfort through all the Pain is Ogerpon. It basically became his Hyperfixation which you can see when he comes up with these wholesome Scenarios in his Head (hoping to meet Ogerpon one Day and become his Friend, invite Ogerpon to his Home, etc). He also sees Part of himself in Ogerpon, so because of that he thinks he would have a special Connection with this Pokemon.

Then you come along. At first, everything seems fine, but soon Things begin to turn negative. You lie to him (probably against your Will) as he tests you, so Part of his Trust is already once again shattered and his Self-Esteem worsens once again (he thinks you and Carmine laugh behind his back without having any Evidence for it. His Head tells him that this is the Truth).

Then, the only Source of Comfort turns away from him… and to you (it's like your Hyperfixation walking right up to you, only to push you aside and give someone else the Attention you always craved), so that is taken away from him as well. On top of that, the Person he once considered his Friend is understanding themself well with the one Person who always antagonized him… his Sister, Carmine.

His entire Environment is crumbling apart, so he tries to fight the Force that is destroying it… only to lose over, and over, and over again (without anyone telling him that the Person he is facing off against is considered a Champion in one Region, while he himself only has average Knowledge about battling. He was doomed to lose from the Start)

He is shown as this shy, meek Character at first, but if you pay Attention to the Details, you can quickly tell how his Frustrations, his Despair and his Anger are building up, bottling up within him (he punches a Shrine made out of Stone with his Fist (not thinking clearly and reacting based on his Emotions as he regrets doing that Moments later on, seeing how his Expression changes into a pained one and he shakes his Hand in Pain), he falls down to the Ground and pounds his Fist against the Floor, the Light in his Eyes vanishes, he clenches his Fists when thinking about you… but also mostly stays silent all the same, rarely shouting out in Anger.)

And to top it off… he seems to be a Child without Parents, only having his Grandparents around him, one of which has kept the true Story of Ogerpon hidden from him for many Years now.

Carmine assumed at some points that Kieran acted weirdly due to Hormones, since Kieran is in his Teen Years… and we know how irrational and emotional Teens can become due to Hormones.

It doesn't end there for him, however. As one of my best Friends pointed out while I was talking to him, Kieran's School Life doesn't seem great either. Remember how all giddy Kieran gets when he hears you considering him to be your Friend. That shows how he doesn't have any Friends at his School at all. It's no wonder how he considers himself to be an Outsider and how he asumes Carmine and you exclude him from Stuff even if there is once again no Proof for it.

One last Detail I think I noticed is how Kieran sabotages himself, whether he does it intentionally or not. He is clearly frustrated that Ogerpon prefers you over him. Yet, he abandoned Ogerpon when Ogerpon needed help the most (meanwhile, the Protagonist was always there for Ogerpon, so it makes Sense that Ogerpon would flock to them more than it would to Kieran). Instead of listening what others have to say and let them talk, he keeps running away before he can gain Information/their Side of the Story, twisting his Perception of others further. He is also always the one that demands to battle with you, despite Part of him knowing that he will lose.

To sum it up: Kieran is seemingly a shy and meek Boy who already had some Troubles in his Home-, Social- and School Life, resulting in his poor Self-Esteem and dwindling mental Health. Then he places the Protagonist on a high Pedestal (possibly due to Trauma and/or Loneliness) when they come along and idolize them, only for that Person to unintentionally and inevitably destroy everything he held dearly to him and turn his Life upside down.

Also, while I can't assume that he hates the Protagonist's Guts now and harbor a Grudge against them (since that would be kinda hypocritical considering he thought Carmine and the Protagonist were laughing behind his back without having any Evidence to back it up), it wouldn't be too surprising if it turned out that that was the Case, even if it is just a tiny Part of him that does so.

So, what exactly does all of this mean for Part 2 of the DLC?

Well, I think that maybe someone is going to take Advantage of the Situation and manipulate Kieran, as Kieran's mental Wellbeing is basically down the Drain at this point. The only Thing he, and possibly by Extension his Hatred, cares about is tearing us down. And considering how chaotic his Emotions must be right now, he won't think clearly about what he is doing, as proven by his past Actions… therefore giving others an Opportunity to manipulate him.

------

If anyone wants to add something onto this, feel free to do so. Also, if this Post feels scattered or weird, it's because I copy and pasted my Thoughts and Ramblings I had between me and my best Friend on Discord onto this Post, so that's why it might be all over the Place- uwu Please remember that I also played the DLC in German, so if some Things are different, then Parts of the Translations weren't the same as the English one- :^Pc

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon teal mask #pokemon sv dlc #pokemon spoilers #kieran

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sosaverse · 1 month

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— changbin salonnn

| p1harmony (separate) x black! fem! reader

p1harmony mtl on who i think would be the most reliable in helping you take down ur braids + other thoughts

✦ - fluff, mentions of sc!ssors and cutt!ng (hair) (wk : 587 )

MOST

keeho

— i have him up here bc i feel like out of the rest he’d be more educated on the subject of braids and etc (yknow with growing up in canada and stuff). he’d be really focused, eyeballing the part he’s supposed to cut hard asf. music is definitely a must, and y’all sit together enjoying the peace while sza, aaliyah, and etc play in the background. i feel like he’d also convince you to wear out that braided bob you get after cutting them shorter 😭. he’d still be there to help you comb out your hair, i feel sorry if you’re tender headed cause let one knot get stuck on that comb and he yanking that bitch out 😞.

jongseob + jiung

— for these two i don’t think they’d have problems. they’d be so cautious though, constantly asking “right here?” when you’ve already told them numerous times that that’s where they needed to cut. listen they just don’t want to accidentally cut your real hair and have you walking around with patches missing 🤕. right after y’all finish, jongseob would be quick to recommend you new braiding styles even willing to pay for them. and jiung would gladly take over for you completely when your hands start to cramp up during the process.

intak

— you didn’t even ask if he could help you, he just parked himself right next to you and asked where to start. but willingness ≠ capability. you had to guide him through the whole process to the point where you should’ve just done it ya self 😭. he’s such a cutie though and he just wants to learn, constantly asking questions in between instructions to make sure he understands all the way. after a minute, he told you he had it and didn’t need anymore help. did he end up cutting it too short? YUP. did he have the heart to tell you? hell nah 😞.. and til that day you still don’t know.

soul

— i actually struggled figuring out where i should put him so i put ‘em here 🤓. i feel like he’d be similar to intak but in a different way. like if you asked he’d be willing to help, but you’d have to guide him through everything. something i think would be different is that he’d play entirely too much. like he’d cut the right spot, then gasp all hard like he cut the wrong one and give you a mini heart attack for no reason. now that i’m thinking more on it you might just have to pre-cut them then let him unbraid them from there, bc me personally i would not trust this nigga with scissors next to my head. but back to playing too much, and this is something i did all the time as a kid, i feel like he would definitely play with the scraps that came from the braids yall just took out instead of throwing them away. you’re just minding your black business, trying to comb out your hair and here go this fool bunching them up and dropping them on your head. 😭

theo

— this nigga here boyyy 😭, i had to take it to the gc for him. and we feel like he’d actually be little to no help. he’d take out like two braids before he’d start whining about being tired and his hands hurting. y’all would have to constantly take breaks, dragging the process out by hours. eventually, he’d pull through though and start helping fr. then when y’all done, he’ll lie and brag about how he did the most work. it’s all love though, just get your get back when he wants you to help him wash his hair.

LEAST

✦ - i think i’ve decided since there is such a lack of representation for us when it comes to kpop fics, mostly what i am going to write is going to be directed to black readers. currently i’m working on four (two more p1harmony ones, twitch streamers/vtubers soul and reader, and han jisung with a male black reader 🤯)

🎧ྀི : smile - lily allen

@sosaverse™

#kpop x black reader #p1harmony mtl #p1harmony headcanons #p1harmony x black reader #p1h x reader #p1harmony x reader #p1h fluff #p1harmony fluff

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sea-buns · 1 month

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hey to a gorgug liker what do you think about his nightmare section from sophomore year? cause I feel like the horror there is less “ah my grandparents were racist” and more “fuck am I being a stereotype? are the people who hate me right about me?” cause wrt to his having to modulate between barbarian and artificer in fhjy it’s like. idk

oh boy do I have thoughts

Tbh, I had zero recollection of the racism stuff until reading this. It was just SO MINOR. His trial in the forest felt really lackluster to me. I feel like everyone else's really dug into an issue at the core of their character and his felt more like "everyone is getting a trial, what do we do for gorgug?" And idk if that was just a bad delivery/call on Brennan's part or if it could have been helped by Zac engaging more in it but it just. Didn't feel like anything. It was a lot more about the dice than the horror of the claustrophobia and the bugs and you've never fit in anywhere you live to make yourself smaller wherever you go you're just the loser who hits hard. Like yeah I guess there was an overarching theme of Gorgug gaining confidence in himself but it was done very poorly imo.

And I think his trial in the forest was wrong for putting such an emphasis on his intelligence. I think that would have been much better suited in fy, back when he was still being heavily bullied, but beyond that it felt like a quick and easy thing for them to grab. Yes, he had insecurities about his intelligence with all the complications with Zelda. But, to me, the focus of fhsy was his HEART. It put a spotlight on how his social circle has grown, and his bully is his friend now, and he's not alone anymore. His interactions with Ayda, the friendship book, trying to help Fabian, I believe in you spring break, it's Gorgug keep going. I made a post earlier in the season (including a great addition by another user) that I think articulates that emphasis on his emotional intelligence very well.

Fhjy HOWEVER. I think it's doing everything that sy failed at. It's giving him space to have an inner conflict. It's addressing lots of little issues and conflicts he's had over the campaign and combining them into one coherent piece. Like, guy was in a relationship pretty much all of fy, and then dealt with the fallout in sy, but I don't think we've EVER seen as much quality relationship development with Gorgug as we have in jy. He and Fig spent an entire summer together trapped in a tour bus and no season has indicated that bond and friendship more than this one. He and Riz have found something to bond over, meanwhile in previous seasons there was pretty much zero one-on-one personal interaction between them. Fabian expressed sadness over Gorgug leaving the Owlbears, because it was the only thing they had that was just for them to hang out and be friends.

Just with that, we're already doing leagues more with Gorgug's character than we ever have. And I haven't even STARTED on his barbificier journey, oh dear god lmao.

Gonna preface this bit with a post I made before the season even started. It was about Zac's steady improvement in his performances with every PC, and how I was predicting that it was gonna culminate into a Gorgug that does him the justice he deserves. It was initially supposed to be a criticism, but I got a little lost in the sauce of loving my boy lol. Still very relevant to the topic of this ask!

God, where do I START?? Addressing his relationship with rage? I'll be honest, I didn't think that would ever be used as a character arc. And I'm not even sure why I've felt that way. I just didn't think... I didn't think about how he might've had a dislike for his own rage. Like, the WAY he rages isn't bad by any means, but I don't think it ever crossed my mind how actually harmful his lessons to sing to combat rage were. No, I did not like the way Porter went about teaching him (a bit too unsupportive of his capabilities and reminiscent of shitty teachers for my liking). But his point about EMBRACING anger; that rage is not bad and does not— should not— need to be stifled. THAAAAT. That opened up such an interesting dialogue for Gorgug.

I do appreciate the beginnings of Gorgug's interest in artificing in fhsy. I think the crumbs of it back then did a great job of leading into his larger commitment to multiclassing. And I think what he's been doing with it this season is exactly what was lacking in his section of the nightmare forest. His trial was a puzzle, based entirely on die rolls, where his solution after failing even when he's assisted by the enemy is to essentially give up. I understand that facing their fears was the whole point of the trials, but his section came off as incredibly anticlimactic and unfulfilling. Just the fact that it was a trial based on stat numbers more than the development of the character itself.

Where junior year succeeds in actually showcasing his intelligence and the evolution of the worth he holds in himself is with the hands-on approach it takes. Yes, the academic rolls are still dice and stats, but there's a physical manifestation that wasn't there before. Gorgug is smart when it comes to getting his hands dirty. It is in the practical applications of his skills that his brand of intelligence shines the most.

And while, once again, I did not LIKE Porter's heavy resistance to multiclassing....I have to admit that I don't think Gorgug would have had such a boost in confidence without that struggle. Even if my boy had trouble expressing it to Porter verbally, HE STOOD UP FOR HIMSELF. Instead of simply rolling over and agreeing that he wasn't built for a technical class and it was stupid to try– he was DEFIANT.

The kid who said "I'm a dumbass. Eat me you stupid bug." took on FOUR CLASSES. Three school years worth of artificer simultaneously. AND stayed with the Owlbears. AND went along on party missions to help Kristen's candidacy. AND was always on deck to help the party with the overarching plotline.

AND HE ACED IT!!! THE FIRST BARBIFICER THAT THE AGUEFORT ADVENTURING ACADEMY HAS EVER SEEN!!!!! He is paving the way for every unprecedented multiclass that follows.

Just in comparison to who he was in the previous season, the amount of drive and self-worth he's gained is astounding. In my eyes, it's done more than enough to makeup for the way his development fell flat in sophomore year.

i hope this fulfilled the ask in the way you were hoping! i told you i'd get carried away lmao. writing a bunch about any of zac's characters is always such a joy. gorgug had always been my favorite of the bad kids but i always found myself wishing he went deeper, y'know? and now it's real. my precious anxious boy has been handled so well. and watching zac's growth as a performer has been such a blast.

thanks for the ask! :D

#hope i dont talk in circles too many times #im not even gonna think about how long i spent lol #ya hit a certain point where youre like 'does that feel exactly right?' and then u go fuck it we aint perfect #ive done that a lot with just any writing thing in my life especially in school #but i feel like i followed through a lot better with this than i have with a loooong essay/analysis/post in awhile #so that feels good. certainly helps when its a thing you really love lol #dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high junior year #fhjy spoilers #fhjy #fantasy high #fh #fantasy high sophomore year #fhsy #gorgug thistlespring #character analysis #asks #anon ask

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

Text

you haven’t heard the kicker yet, babe

a/n: this is essentially just a lore drop of some stuff I scribbled down nearly two weeks ago...

warnings: devil!Eddie Munson x reader x angel!Steve Harrington, just some angsty lore and the boys arguing

word count: 647

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | devil & angel AU masterlist

“What’s up with him?” you nodded in the direction of the devil giving you the stick eye in the corner.

“Oh,” Steve’s breath got caught in his throat, “he just-, um… he’s got some stuff he needs to come to terms with.”

Practically on the verge of exploding, Eddie shot back, “and you don’t?”

“Eddie-”

“No, Steve! Stop acting like this isn’t getting to you either!” the devil interrupted, “she can see us,” he pointed at you with a sharp finger, “she can feel us! This is not a myth. You know it, I know it. You think I’ll let her see another sunrise without her knowing it as well, without her truly understanding what this means?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, “she just needs more time.”

“To hell with time! You know what? I knew that I shouldn’t have listened to you, shouldn’t have tried to ease her into this. What’s so wrong with the traditional methods, huh? Are you suddenly too high and mighty to get your hands dirty? What happened to the angel I met aeons ago?”

“You damn well know what happened,” Steve got all the way up in his partner’s face.

“She deserves to know the truth.”

Feeling ever so small, like the mattress underneath you could just swallow you whole at any moment, you piped up timidly, “would someone please just tell me what’s going on?”

“Fuck…” Steve breathed, rushing to be at your side, “sweetheart…”

“Please, Steve,” you felt him grab your hands, “I wanna know.”

“Shit…” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut a moment before letting out, “okay, alright. You being able to see us? That’s not normal. It’s known to have happened before, guardians falling for their subject and thereby making themselves visible to them.”

“Okay…”

“You haven’t heard the kicker yet, babe,” Eddie nearly chuckled as he shook his head, his eyes boring into yours like daggers, “this is how we die. We die with love. That’s the only time we get to feel it.”

“What?” good thing you were already sitting down because you suddenly felt like you were gonna pass out.

“We never feel this feeling,” Steve informed you, “it’s not something that we’re capable of, not until our time has run out. That’s the only time we get to. Love, it’s a warning sign for us. Never really realised what a cruel joke it was till now… We don’t feel it while we live, but we always feel it in death, however that may be, however we may die, we feel it.”

“So, you’re dying?” you tried to comprehend what they were telling you.

“Yeah,” Steve offered you a gentle nod, “we are not only tethered to you, we’re connected. When you die, so do we. Some see it as a peaceful way to go, others believe it to be the slowest and most torturous of deaths.”

“So, you love me…”

“More than anything,” Steve uttered, tilting his head to catch your eyes in an effort to show you his conviction.

“Well,” you slipped your fingers out of the angel’s grasp, “what if I never feel the same way about you?”

Arms still tightly crossed over his chest, the devil spoke, “let’s just say that the traditional way of dealing with this would be to tie you up and never let you go. Just wait it out till your feelings catch up… I suggested that last night,” he pointed proudly to himself, “but someone wanted to handle it a different way, a more humane way,” his piercing glare fell upon the man on your bed.

“Yeah, well she deserves better!” Steve whirled around to argue, “she deserves to choose herself!”

“Get your head out of the clouds, man!” Eddie threw up his hands, “she doesn’t have a choice and you know it! As soon as she laid her eyes on us, that was it.”

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

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Is könig the type of guy to put a picture of sneaky in his wallet?

Because I feel like he is🧍🏻‍♀️

After the whole removing his shirt fiansco it might as well be a spicy-but-not-too-spicy-because-he-is-protective-like-that picture yk?

Ok so I know you've literally said that it could be something spicy *right* there, but for the sake of this super cute idea we're getting something fluffy ✨ with a hint of Sneak being naughty

You could hardly believe your luck. It was incredible, but you'd managed to find a day that both you and König were free after work and the rest of your team were too busy to question your absence from base. Price was dealing with something that required he and Gaz out of the country and Ghost and Soap were sent off on a mission elsewhere. None of them could track your movements and no one else was nosy enough to bother.

That left you and König time to wander into the city together, riding the bus like a couple of teenage runaways giggling to yourself in the stuffy shuttle, uncaring of the few nicotine addled people that rode with you. König leaned against the window and held you close to his chest, stroking your arm as he filled you in on the team’s antics. Apparently, despite heavily warning the 141 off of messing with their least favourite KorTac operator, the shits had decided to go ahead and do it anyway.

“MacTavish tried to jump out at me the other day, but I heard him blabbing to Ghost about it from way down the hall, so unfortunately for him it didn’t work! After that Price had tried to give me a telling off, but I ignored him of course, at which point I get assaulted by Ghost and Garrick when I walk out and-“

“Assaulted?” you groaned, cutting him off as he was in the midst of telling you.

Ghost had informed you that he’d had a polite word, but neglected to mention any kind of ‘assault’. At the time, you’d taken his lack of bloody knuckles to be a good sign, though according to sharp bitter tones in your lover’s voice - that wasn’t the case. You could only imagine what Ghost had done to König in the heat of his anger.

“He pinned me against the wall and practically strangled me, talking all this nonsense about ‘if you don’t leave Sneaky alone, you’ll find more embedded in that back of yours than nails’ as if he’s capable of that,” König snorted.

“König that’s awful!” you moaned, wrapping your hand around his arm.

“What was awful was the punch to the gut I gave him,” he said with a grin. “He let me go pretty quick after that.”

“He just let you go? Just like that?”

“Well, I might’ve run from him and his little companion, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said with a chuckle.

A whoosh of laughter burst free before you could stop it, but nevertheless you’d slapped König’s chest playfully and told him not to do stuff like that. It wasn’t worth riling Ghost up any more than he already was, he could be quite formidable when he felt slighted and the last thing you wanted was permanent damage on behalf of your so called ‘protection’.

Then, after the long winding journey had rolled to a close, you stepped out into town and grabbed something quick to eat. At which point you’d demanded to trawl the streets in search of a decent bar, looking for somewhere quiet to grab a cocktail. It was important you not go anywhere too crowded, but at the same time you knew that most of the old fashioned quiet places that König had pointed to were unlikely to make you anything nice if at all under the basis that cocktails ‘weren’t real drinks’.

Eventually, after a lot of discussion, sore feet from all the walking around, and whining on your part, you agreed to venture into a quirky little place with ocean themed decorations, ironically called ‘the dive bar’, that had a few customers and a relaxing vibe. The inside was lit by blue neon and dim yellow halogen bulbs and all the tables were made from old wood, like something off of a ship’s hull. It was cheesy, but it did a great Daiquiri and most importantly König wasn’t crawling out of his skin with crowd anxiety.

“I like this place,” you’d declared, looking around at the kitschy décor while you sipped your fruity drink. “It’s cosy.”

“It’s not so bad I suppose,” König replied, picking at the dewy label on his beer bottle.

“Oh c’mon, admit it, it’s fun!”

“If you think pirate decorations and hardly being able to see is fun,” he shrugged. “Then yes. Very fun.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport! Plus look, they have pool over there and foosball and… oh my god a photobooth!”

He groaned at that and narrowed his eyes, giving you a look as if to say not in a million years.

However, never one to deny you, he’d dutifully marched over for a game of pool (which you’d let him win of course, just to butter him up a little) and watched as he smiled victoriously when he’d potted the black ball. Though, he wasn’t so easily convinced into your next suggestion. Apparently getting König into a photobooth was harder than any other feat you’d accomplished yet.

“Those eyes won’t work on me,” he shrugged, taking a gratuitous sip of his beer. “I’m not falling for it.”

“But…pleeeeaaasseeeee,” you whined, dragging out each letter like it was molasses pouring from a tin.

“In case you’ve forgotten I can’t have pictures of my face floating around, Sneaky, you know this.”

“But you can put on your neck warmer!”

“I don’t have it,” he sniffed.

“Liar! You always keep it in your back pocket if you’re not wearing it,” you challenged, poking at his chest.

“Been staring at my arse much, hm?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but nevertheless stood your ground. You were determined, you weren’t going to let him change the subject. You were high on the light buzz of overly sweet alcohol and you desperately wanted something to hold onto when you couldn’t have him near.

“You know I have been,” you winked, recovering quickly and embracing him. “And look – I’m right.”

He growled out and snatched the cloth from your hands, his eyes narrowing down at your ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ face. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead or held up by one of the decorative nets on the ceiling, but by virtue of being you, you were allowed to remain standing. Hell couldn’t beat the heat firing from his eyes, but even despite that, he broke and started to put the neck warmer on.

“You’re paying.”

You could hardly believe it, but you weren’t going to waste time standing there contemplating where the depths of König’s devotion lay. You followed him into the booth and planted yourself on his lap, excitedly slotting the coins into the machine, listening to them rattle, watching as the screen flashed and presented you with your options. Apparently you could choose a range of different filters and frames, though, ever a fan of the classics, you opted to go for a black and white filter and no frame.

“Look happy, grumpy man,” you chastised, looking over at him while preparing for your first photo and fixing your hair.

“This is me happy.”

“Don’t seem to recall you looking like that in the hotel room,” you whispered, brushing your lips against the side of his neck. "And I seem to remember you were very happy then."

The first photo flashed and you sniggered as you saw it dissolve into view, you looking sultry and pleased with yourself while König looked flustered under the mask. That one was a keeper for sure, no matter the protests that he made. He didn’t have much of a chance to put it down though. In a matter of seconds the timer was counting down again and you tried to do a silly pose, sticking up peace signs until König broke you by tickling your side.

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you said, half giggling half groaning.

“You got me, so I got you. Fairs fair, Sneaky,” he chuckled.

“You’re such a meanie!”

“Yeah, and you love it,” he said, his eyes glinting with a smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.”

The third and final photo was taken when you were looking into each other’s eyes, locked in a gaze that betrayed the sickly lovebirds you were underneath all the playfighting and cool exteriors you both tried to preserve. Neither of you said a word as it came and went on the display, both admiring how the other looked, stuck in your adoring silence.

Though soon the screen went dark and König sighed, petting your thigh so you’d stand from his lap. You obliged and wandered out, going to fetch your paper strip of photos when you were beat to your prize. König snatched them first and held them up at a height, inspecting them again while you jumped and screeched like a Tasmanian devil.

“Hey! I paid for those,” you growled, trying to grip onto his shoulders for leverage.

“Maybe so, but I’m afraid I have to confiscate them,” he said in a fake somber tone, easily batting your hands off of him like a kitten. “They’re classified, you don’t have the clearance for them.”

“But they’re mine!” you whined.

“Mine now,” he grinned, slipping his temporary mask down so that he could stick his tongue out.

You huffed, but eventually you vowed to steal them later, not missing König sticking them in his wallet and making sure to secret it away in his front pockets away from your sneaking reach. You would get those photos somehow, someway, you’d told him. His bullshit arm span couldn’t protect him forever!

#könig #a rocky start #a Rocky oneshot

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getvalentined · 9 months

Text

I am so sick of people asserting that Cloud's father is some super special important person like it's some explanation for the fact that he was able to save the world. Superior bloodline stuff never sits well with me in the first place, but in this case it's just so antithetical to the actual thesis of FF7 and does such a huge disservice to multiple characters that it makes me white hot angry.

The most popular contender is President Shinra, because Cloud being a Shinra bastard would (somehow) explain why he's allowed into the company at such a young age (even though enlistment age appears to be 14 and Cloud left Nibelheim to enlist at 14) and how he wound up on so many important missions—because it can't possibly be that he's actually competent, he's so pretty, how could he possibly be competent? It's not as if we see him being staggeringly competent from jump in every title where he's featured, including those that start prior to him being forcibly mako enhanced by Hojo. Clearly this is nepotism.

After all, we know that President Shinra is always so supportive of his bastards! That's why Lazard hid his identity and worked his way up the ranks to become director of SOLDIER at the youngest possible age and then set about trying to orchestrate a hostile takeover of the company by allowing all three of his best operatives to defect in the middle of a war, a process that was only thrown off because one of them passed off every single mission where he would have had an opportunity to go AWOL.

This was clearly the result of nepotism. There's just so much nepotism going on there. Obviously.

The newest contender is Glenn Lodbrok, the lead character from the First SOLDIER section of Ever Crisis, because he's blond-haired and blue-eyed and presumably one of the first people in Project 0 to survive some level of the mako enhancement process. I guess this is supposed to mean that him being Cloud's father would be a perfect explanation for Cloud actually being capable of literally anything, since the only way for him to become the hero that was chosen by the planet to keep it alive would be if it's part of some bloodline destiny.

There are a whole host of issues with Glenn as an option here, not the least of which is the canonical lore about Cloud's father, namely that he was some nobody traveler who kinda passed through and got Claudia pregnant and then left; he may have died up in the mountains, but apparently all that was ever found was his pack, so there's no way to be sure. Further, Claudia was very young at this point—according to her original concept art declaring her to be 33 at the time of her death, she gave birth to Cloud at 16-17 years old.

Glenn is one of two possible age ranges: if he was active in the early stages of Project 0, being a character in the First SOLDIER battle royale game, then he was around 21 in 1985, meaning a 21 year old knocked up Claudia Strife when she was 15 and then walked out on her. If he's 21 during the events of Ever Crisis, which seems likely based on his character design, that would make him 14 at the oldest when Claudia got pregnant.

Okay, I know this kind of thing happens IRL, but I feel pretty confident in the statement that there is absolutely no way that that's the direction SE is taking this timeline and characterization. I'm not even sorry. That's not happening. Either he's giving "predator," or he's Deadbeat Dad: High School Freshman Edition.

But that's honestly not even the worst of it, the math not matching up is entirely irrelevant when the implications of this assertion are applied to the actual thesis of this series as a whole, to the characters we already know, to the actual lore. Claiming that Cloud is only special because of the sperm donation of a man who abandoned him literally removes any concept of his competence as a character, declaring that he's just the newest iteration in a line of "worthy" men. He can't be worth anything unless his father is worth something. He can't be good at anything unless his father is good at something.

Beyond that, it casts Claudia aside entirely, asserting that the fact that she raised Cloud doesn't matter—she may have brought him up entirely on her own, but that doesn't actually matter. She didn't instill values and morals and guidelines into him that would allow him to grow up into a man who could save the world, she was just an incubator, a nursemaid, a nanny, a cook. She was just a servant who kept him alive long enough for his father's bloodline to awaken within him and make him into the hero he was always meant to be.

Insisting that Cloud's value as a character hinges in any way on his father, a person who had no place in his life whatsoever and whom he doesn't even remember, takes away his agency and declares Claudia to be irrelevant. It says that a sperm donation matters more than an upbringing. It says that the place he started is the only thing that defines where Cloud will end up.

This is literally, 100 percent, the opposite of the thesis of this series. The entire concept of these games, of these storylines, is that the way you were made doesn't have to dictate what you can be, who you are, where you're going. Your genetics do not define you, and assumptions to the contrary are literally what make people into monsters. What matters is the people you love, the people who love you, and the person you are now as a result of those people.

And the fact of the matter is that regardless of timelines, regardless of characterizations, regardless of theories, Cloud Shinra and Cloud Lodbrok didn't save the world.

Cloud Strife did.

Claudia Strife's son did.

And I think people could stand to give both of them a hell of a lot more credit.

#fandom rant #fandom ramble #fandom bullshit #long post #cloud strife #claudia strife #FF7 #FF7R #FF7EC

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