#and of course my answer is ‘obviously. in fact i even have it recorded from back in fucking october’
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just remembered this clip out of nowhere and just so happened to have it saved so. yeah sure here it is.
#cellbit#cellbit clips#literally out of nowhere my brain was just like ‘remember that time cellbit got Really into torturing some guy by pulling their nipples’#and of course my answer is ‘obviously. in fact i even have it recorded from back in fucking october’#also to note that like the rest of the game when he’d pass by this area he’d go in and ‘torture’ the guy some more before moving on
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My Found Family
I never grew up with the luxury of family. As an orphan, my childhood was lacking to say the least, and it left me jealous of any kid with caring fathers and siblings. That's why I had to find my family. Nobody's perfect, but with a little reconditioning, I've trained them to be exactly what I was looking for.
This guy is now my father...
"Breakfast is ready, boys!" I call, using my lower register like I'm supposed to, "Whoops! I mean bacon-fest!"
Guttural laughter comes from my stomach even though I don't find my joke that funny. Bad jokes like this have sort of become my personality lately. In fact, my whole life has transformed over the last couple days. A week ago, I would've never imagined myself strolling around my house in nothing but underwear and a robe! My standards for style seem to have vanished along with pretty much every other part of my old way of being.
It happened three days ago at a grocery store, when I ran into this guy in the produce section. He caught me examining avocados for ripeness and walked right up, beginning to talk like we'd known each other for years.
It was all a bit bizarre, but I found myself unable to turn away. He was explaining my life to myself. Well, not my life, but the one he wanted me to live, the one I was meant to live, and I hung on his every word. He was maybe six years younger than myself, but I was to be his new daddy. It was a role I was proud to fill.
"Here you are, son," I grin widely, unable to contain the feelings of pride I have as he walks into the room.
"Thanks, old man," he answers and grabs the plate gratefully.
For a moment, I stand there and stare. My heart beats for my boy as he tears apart the food I made for him. My paternal instincts have been working overtime lately. I can't help but love that boy with every fatherly fiber of my being.
It doesn't matter that I never wanted kids before. Previously, I'd wanted to remain a bachelor forever, but I have them now, and it couldn't feel more perfect.
With a content grin, I turn back to the sizzling bacon and think about my day. Things I used to hate were now what I looked forward to; mowing the lawn, washing the car, cleaning the gutters. I have a full day of work ahead of me to keep this house in tip top shape. Of course, I'll do it all with an ice cold beer in my hand. I never had a taste for the stuff, but my boy thinks I should grow a bit more of a gut.
I know what I say goes around here, but I could never say no to my favorite son...
I obviously have dad wrapped around my finger, but he's not the only member of this family. This next dude is my new big bro...
"Fuck yeah," I grunt and sniff up the ripe stench under my arm, "Smells like a real fuckin' man!"
I toss the barbell down, finishing a new personal record on the bench press and I couldn't feel more pumped. My tank top and sweat pants are drenched with sweat, but I love bein' a nasty gym rat: at least, I do now.
A week ago I was waiting tables at this fancy restaurant, when one of the customers got to talking with me. He was sitting alone and looked kinda sad, so I tried to be friendly and I'm sure glad I did! I got a whole new family out of it. He made me quit my job and move into this sweet place. Now I'm his big brother!
Of course, like all big bro's, I'm supposed to work out in the garage all day. I was never one for weights, but I couldn't imagine my life without them anymore. I like to push my limits and get all hot and sweaty. Then I march around the house flexing and farting all over the place. It's not the most refined thing in the world, but my bro explained to me how much I don't care about hygiene and all that crap.
"Wassup, little man," I call as he saunters in.
"Nothing much," he answers, staring at my arms while I show off my biceps.
"Alright, get out of my space. I'm tryin' to work out," I snarl, acting as tough as possible, "Do I need to wrestle you again to prove my point?"
I definitely didn't used to be like this. I used to be the most polite and approachable guy in the world, always chatting random people up, but that guy's gone. My bro got rid of him and his old family. This new family is the only one I'm interested in now, even if I'm not supposed to show it. I'm supposed to be muscular, rude, and gross. It's who I am now.
"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he replies, "You can wrestle me though."
"I will," I frown, flexing even harder, "And this time, I'll win!"
Whenever we wrestle, I always end up with the urge to let him win. It sucks because I could easily beat him, and I should put him in his place, but for some reason, I just know I have to let him win. He just deserves it I guess.
I give him an intense glare and then return to my weights. These arms aren't going to pump themselves...
My big bro always makes my legs quiver, but I love seeing how cocky he can get. Of course, he'll never out wrestle me no matter how big he gets. I programmed him to let me win. Just like I programmed the breadwinner of the bunch...
A short groan rumbles from my lips. For some reason, everything has been disappointing me lately: my sons, my husband, my job has all been leaving me grumpy and frustrated. Even the channels on the TV aggravate the living hell out of me. I have to fight the urge to chuck the remote across the room.
"How was your day, honey," my husband asks, walking into the room and handing me a beer.
"Great," I moan without any emotion.
Everything's been changing so fast lately, and I couldn't be more over it. I was married to my work, busting ass for years to get promotion after promotion, and I had a job I loved that paid extremely well. I couldn't be more happy, even if I was the only unmarried guy in the office. I didn't mind. I loved my bowling league and my solo trips to Vegas too much to settle down.
Then I met him, my son. Well, he wasn't my son at the time, but after talking, I quickly realized who he was and who I was to him. I'm the head of the household, the disciplinarian, the breadwinner. At least, that's who I've become.
"What's for dinner?" I grunt, peeling my eyes away from the TV.
Looking at my husband, odd feelings bubble up. I used to know him as my neighbor, a nice enough guy, but now I'm married to him. It all happened so fast. He's changed too recently, I think. The guy I knew a week ago would've never walked around all day in a robe and underwear.
His hand reaches out and holds my own, "Steak and potatoes if that's alright with you."
I grunt in agreement, turning back to the TV. My husband's presence stirs my cock to life, straining my member against my work slacks.
This is another new development.
Until now, I'd never had a gay bone in my body. In some ways, I still don't, but my son explained how I should feel about my husband. I should love him, I should be turned on by him, and I should get it on with him. He's right, I suppose.
"Hey, I could use a blow job before you get cooking," I gesture to the thick tent in my pants.
My husband pauses for a moment like he's unsure of what to do, but then it comes to him, "Of course, babe, but we need to be quiet. Both of our boys are home right now."
"Don't worry about it. If they walk in without knocking they'll get the belt," I snort as my husband gets on his knees in front of me.
"You shouldn't be so hard on-" before he can finish, I've shoved his face into my crotch.
Somehow, I know I can be rough with him, just like I can be rough with our sons. I'm the man of the house after all. Within seconds I'm grunting in pleasure while staring at the evening news broadcast. For some reason, I always find myself watching it and complaining about current events. It's just who I am now..
I grin, sneaking a peak at my two dad's going at it in the living room like the good little couple they are. My new family couldn't be more perfect, but no family is complete without the dog...
"Ruff!" I bark, gleefully scampering over to the bowl of food that was just placed on the floor.
Without hesitating, I shove my face into the bowl, sending the little pellets flying everywhere. They taste like cardboard, but for some reason, I can't get enough of them! I've done nothing but drool and whine for the last hour while the real humans eat their dinner at the table.
"That's a good boy," a voice coos, and I feel fingers running through the hair on my head.
I can barely acknowledge being petted. I know I'm supposed to act like a hungry animal right now, so that's what I do.
I would've never thought I'd find myself as a house pet, but a couple days ago, this guy just walked up to me and talked me into it. It'd just been a normal day for me, working at the car garage when he became my master. I knew right there and then that I had to drop to my hands and knees and follow him home with my tongue out.
My new life has been great ever since. My masters play ball with me outside, they hose me down when I get muddy, and they snuggle with me on the couch at night. I barely even miss my old work and fiance!
"Alright, boy," one of my master's commands, "That's enough. Get in here!"
It's the mean one. The one who used to own this house, but is now just a working dad. He's always the one who hits me with a newspaper when I drink from the toilet. I don't know why, but I just feel compelled to do it!
Licking the bowl clean, I abandon it and crawl into the living room. There, the entire family is gathered around the television.
I stop by the smelly one and sneak in a few licks. I love licking him because he's always salty with sweat and smells funny. After licking his feet for too long, he kicks me away, "Leave me alone, mutt!"
"Oh don't talk to him that way," the nice one adds.
I climb on the couch and curl up beside him. His belly is always the perfect cushion for my head to rest on, and he always lets me lick his beer bottle when he's done. Within a couple minutes, I'm drifting off as his hands absently play with my hair...
...sitting with my family at night is always my favorite part. Watching TV with my two dads, brother, and dog heals the child in me that had always yearned for this. Sure, it might be easier to just go to therapy, but this is sure as hell a lot more fun!
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going live
Cole Caufield Imagine
prompt: influencer reader doing a get ready with me live and Cole interrupting
word count: 717 short and sweet
“Uhm… that’s a good question username. I would say my favorite holiday would be Halloween. I love spooky season,” I say reading the comments flooding in while I apply a layer of foundation to my face. Every once in a while I glance up to the mirror in front of me. The background of the video is Cole’s bathroom, but no one watching knows that. We have been dating for a little over six months and we still hasn’t announced our relationship.
I smile reading the comments about how happy and glowing I look. I hear the little pitter patter of feet on the floor and find our sweet baby come into the room sitting at my feet. I bend down and love all over our dog, well Cole’s originally but now our baby. As I show my fur baby some love, my human baby leans against the door frame watching us. “Hi baby,” I smile sliding just our of frame to give him a kiss. He just smiles and whispers a small hey back.
As I get back into frame the comments are going so fast I can hardly read them. All of them saying around the same thing, oh my god the secret boyfriend, i wonder who he is, c’mon guys it’s obviously so-and-so, or as long as she is happy we should all be happy. “Thank you y/nismyworld. I am in fact very very happy,” I say looking over to Cole who has now moved to sitting on the lid of the toilet watching me continue to get ready. As I finish my routine I answer as many questions as I can and sing along to the music playing.
The beginning chords of Enchanted start to play and my smile widens looking over at Cole. “Why am I smiling so much? Well I’ll tell you, so we actually had our first date at The Eras Tour. So during the song apparently while I was freaking out over Taylor, he was just looking at me with such adoration and the cutest older couple behind us recorded the whole thing. It has become like our song basically as cheesy and cliche as that may sound,” I say thinking back to the night of our first date. I thought Cole was insane for buying us tickets when he had just met me.
As the song plays I can’t help but think how tiring it is hiding our relationship. “Can I have this dance,” Cole asks walking my way holding his hand out. I can’t help but laugh and him and reach out for his hand. I can only imagine how we must look, my hair still in rollers and makeup half done is a huge messy shirt and shorts and Cole in his sweat and compression shirt. “You trust me,” he says leaning down into my ear. I look up and smile nodding my head. “Of course,” I smile wondering what he was going on about. “I think it’s time,” he says glanicng behind us towards my phone. I follow his eyes and nod.
I step away from him and back into the frame and hold my hand out to him now. He laughs and places his larger hands in mine. I pull him forward and the two of us spin around and dance like absolute dorks. It felt like only the two of us existed . When the song ended we stopped and his back was towards the camera. I switched our positions and Cole was now standing behind me resting his head in the crook of my neck.
“Everyone I would like to officially introduce you to my loving boyfriend Mr. Cole Caufield. Number 22 on the Montreal Canadiens in the NHL,” I smile reading over all of the comments about people saying that they knew it or how he looked just as happy as I did. We even had a couple of hockey fans in the chat freaking out. “Okay now that that is all over and done with, I really do need to get ready for this red carpet,” I smile into the camera. I turn and look over at Cole and raise my eyebrows,” Now that everyone knows, wanna be my plus one?” He laughs and immediately says yes.
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“Leonardo.”
A female voice that Leo had heard before in recordings addressed him with a single word greeting. She sounded pleased. Unusual considering the past circumstances.
“Augustine,” Leo responded casually, willing the rest of the fog to leave his brain. He had a lot of questions, but none that he wanted to ask her. Other than something to further annoy her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Augustine’s eye twitched, and she crossed her arms despite her smile never falling. “You speak as though this is your home, and I’m the visitor,” she pointed out.
Leo could only grin slightly, having achieved his goal. “Well, it’s just been so easy for me to come and go as I please.”
Now the smile fell into a frown. But just for a moment before she forced it back. “And yet you’ve never once stopped for a proper chat.”
“You know how it is. I’d hate to pull you away from your work. I’m just it’s been taking up a lot of your time,” Leo jabbed again, his head clear now and mind already examining where he was. Simple restraints, they had taken his weapons, and bags, but nothing else. He could probably get out of this.
“...You’re a daring creature to continue to antagonize me despite your current position…” The smile had faded again, and Leo could tell Augustine was tired of playing the game of banter they had been engaged in. Eventually she shrugged it off, memory of recent revelations lifting her mood. “No matter. Despite your attempts to prevent my work from progressing I relish to inform you that it has all been in vain.” Her phone was slipped from her lab coat pocket, and after a few taps she held the screen up for Leo to see. “I’m not nearly proud enough to conceal the fact it was an accident. I was merely attempting to capture you four by targeting mutant turtle signatures with a mystic influence. And while I caught one, these other two gems decided to… do me the favor of proving my hypothesis true.”
The first video Augustine showed him caused Leo so suck in a hissed breath, a much too small mutant turtle trapped on the floor and crowded by people in surgical coats. Needles and blades in their hands, smaller than what he’d seen in person with Bishop, but no less infuriating. And then she swiped her screen across to switch to a different, even smaller mutant turtle that was blessedly still asleep in his fetters. “Augustine…,” Leo growled, a warning tone saturating his voice and his brows furrowed.
“Oh don’t get so worked up. I don’t plan on killing them. I need them alive to track how they adjust to this dimension. How else am I supposed to confirm it’s safe? You and your brothers refuse to answer my questions afterall,” Augustine chided, chuckling in bubbling excitement. She was pleased to see that the first subject seemed to be calming down. Either because he realized the futility of his struggle, or because her employees had sedated him she wasn’t sure. But she’d rather not have another incident like with Evangeline. “And you, of course, are my constant for comparison. I anticipate their biological structure is much more similar to you than to humans. Obviously. So as a native of this dimension I’ll be keeping you for my tests as well. But as for your brothers…”
She was gloating. And Leo knew she was, but he was still curious when she trailed off, her phone vibrating in a silent call distracting her and earning a slight frown before she answered it, turning away from her captive. “Yes?” She sounded irritated, listening to the quick response and narrowing her eyes as she was informed of their intruders. “Tch…. Gas them,” she spoke after a moment to consider her decision. “Yes, I’m sure. Once they fall unconscious we can capture them and revitalize them, to a point. But if they ended up dying then it is no loss. I still have the others. Make sure the frontlines have the portable nullifiers as well.”
Leo had to keep from smiling when it sounded like his brothers were already there to rescue them all. They had acted fast. That was good. And it sounded like they were further in the building than Augustine had expected. But her response was definitely concerning, and only motivated Leo’s resolve to escape on his own. When she ended the call and half turned back to him he decidedly kept his expression neutral.
“Well, it seems your brothers have skittered their way inside sooner than expected. So you’ll have to excuse me while I deal with them elsewhere. Be good and stay silent, or I may have to sedate you,” she ordered, turning to leave the room without waiting for a response.
A raised brow was all Augustine got from Leo as he waited for the door to hiss closed. Then after a count of ten, or actually eight, he started twisting his hands, testing the tightness of the restraints on him. They hadn’t even bothered to take his tactical sleeves off. If he could just slide his hand through and slip one of them off, then getting the other off would be easy. Just squish his thumb in close to his palm, shift his weight as much as he could to let gravity help, nevermind the sharp pain building in his joint.
A series of soft clicks abruptly released all tension in Leo’s limbs, dropping him to the floor where he caught himself on the balls of his feet and fingertips. That was odd. Leo didn’t think he’d triggered anything that would disengage the restraints. And it was increasingly suspicious when the same door Augustine had left hissed open once more. Suspicious, until the protocol announcement coming through the intercom in the hallway was overridden by a familiar code.
“Flight 182, this is ground control, you are clear for landing.”
April. Leo thought, breaking into a wide smile as the redirected airplane chatter fizzled out. So this definitely wasn’t something Augustine was doing to manipulate him, or the others. Running out of the room, Leo gave one of the cameras a wave and a smile, just in case Mom April could see him, and continued his escape down the hallway bathed in red and white lights.
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I wasn't sure what to draw for this one, but inevitably frog Leo won X'D
#my art#tmnt 2003#tmnt crossover#rise + 2003 crossover#cross dimension kidnapping#03 Leo#writing#fanfic#long post
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Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 4.
Pairing: You x Baekhyun
Rating: M
Word Count: 6.8K
Warnings: UNRESOLVED sexual tension (shhhh I promise you will be okay), an unspecified age difference, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.
Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.
Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne song Can I Stay?
Tag List: @andimoon @his-mochi-cheeks
Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
Baekhyun was on his way over to your house. You had no way of knowing how far away he actually had gotten before he turned around but you figured you had maybe 20 minutes. Maybe longer.
Did you have enough time for a shower? You felt the grime and the dirt of the day still all over your skin and your favorite way to start the weekend was with a long soak in the tub. Obviously that wasn’t an option right now but you found yourself racing into your bathroom for a shower instead. At least it would be a way to use up the waiting time instead of sitting on a bar stool in your kitchen and staring at the front door until the doorbell rang. It wasn’t like you could get much work done without the blue harddrive anyway.
Your shower broke speed records. You did what you could with the wet hair and quickly contemplated redoing your makeup. How ridiculous of an idea, putting on makeup right now. But to face this man bare faced with nothing? You opted for just a little. And what to wear? You knew you were overthinking this. You had no control over your overthinking and you had no time for it ether.
He was going to, at most, drop off the blue harddrive and then leave, right? Maybe he would come in just to make sure you were actually able to get the task done, since he’d come all the way over maybe he should stay for a while. Had he eaten dinner yet? Of course he wouldn’t have eaten. A million thoughts were racing through your mind and you quickly reached for just something ultra casual but still kind of cute from your closet. Comfy shorts and a soft top. You didn’t need to always look the part of the ultra professional manager, just because your assistant was ringing your doorbell right now, right?
The sound of that bell sent a jolt of nerves through your belly, you swore you even saw a flash of light somewhere, and in your mind flashed your options for answering that door.
Work, work, work, strictly business mode? How dare you keep my precious blue harddrive young man, don't you know what you almost did? No, no. It was kind of your fault too. You always checked for it before leaving the office. Why you didn't check this time? You’d had plenty of opportunities to check before and the fact that he happened to be carrying it with him instead of being left behind at the office was a blessing because instead of being there, you were home. You’d showered and changed and you were comfy and happy and there was no reason at all for you to be upset about Baekhyun coming over.
So did you go the ultra casual route instead? Welcome to my home. Let me give you the tour. Here is my loveseat — maybe you’d like to sit on it with me. It’s perfectly sized for two consenting adults to sit on together. Here is my kitchen, sorry I only have ramen. Would you like to share some with me tonight?
Maybe ultra casual was a bad idea.
You were out of time for your silly scenarios and when you pulled open your front door you caught a view of the top of Baekhyun’s blonde head. He was bent at the waist and lifted both hands with the hard drive lifted on top. It took only a second for your eyes to catch on to the rest of his appearance.
His hair was wet. His suit jacket had dark water stains on it as well and his slacks were also darker at the bottom legs with very obvious wetness.
“Noona, it didn’t get wet. I protected it with my body.” It took another half second for your ears to catch on to what had to be the sound of heavy rain falling outside. Your floor was a bit high and pretty well insulated from the world but it was odd of you not to notice the rain. You’d been so preoccupied with other things.
“Baekhyun, it’s raining? You should have told me, I would come down with an umbrella.”
You were pulling him inside now. He was a little bit drippy. You were careful to grab the hard drive first due to the sheer importance of its safety, but with it carefully set down next to your work laptop you rushed to the bathroom for a towel and handed it to him.
“I parked kind of far away in a secure lot down the street. There was a big truck right in front and they were—” his face had a wince now and as soon as he lifted the towel to his head his eyes seemed to focus on you for a second as he stopped explaining his reasoning for not just parking outside on the street; his reasoning for why he was so very soaked by the rain right now. You pictured him stuffing the precious hardrive deep inside his coat pocket and fighting the elements with it as he ran through the downpour.
His mouth hung open just a little and you caught the moment he must have registered that yes, you were home, and yes, you maybe had just showered, didn’t have on the usual office attire, nor work makeup on, maybe you were wearing something soft and comfy and so what? You were home. This was your home. It was your favorite place to be, why be uncomfortable at home when you spent 10 hours of every day uncomfortable at the office?
Something about his eyes on you though made you second guess the outfit. Maybe a pantsuit would have been more appropriate. Maybe you should have done something other than just comb your hair. The shorts you were wearing were pretty high cut but they were your absolute favorite to sleep in. The shirt was thin but it wasn’t like it was transparent. This was a normal at home outfit, right? Had you lost your mind completely?
“—they were…?” You spoke out loud, drawing out his last words spoken, trying to get him to continue what he was saying and in the process, interrupting his strange silence.
“Who was?” He whispered and his face dipped forward as he wrinkled his eyebrows in complete confusion.
He was gone somewhere else. You opened your lips to speak and then closed them again. Finding no response for him that was safe enough.
He was standing just inside your doorway and after a few seconds you knew you had to move before the motion light turned off. So you moved — pushing a set of house slippers closer toward him with your bare foot, his eyes looked down catching the motion and without saying anything to him you turned and retreated back inside your apartment.
He could come in. You’d made that invitation evident with the house sippers. It wasn’t like you should be expected to say it out loud right? Some things were so very hard to say out loud.
You quietly settled onto your sofa with your laptop on the coffee table and connected the hard drive; waiting for the happy little notification sound to tell you that everything was going to be just fine — all the while watching the entryway out of the corner of your eye.
When you finally did see him, he had moved up just until to the threshold and he’d removed the wet coat. He found a coat hook and hung it there. The resourceful man could manage well enough on his own. You pulled your eyes to the laptop screen and blinked them purposefully and slowly, willing your focus to stay there. You even furrowed your eyebrows in some attempt to get them to stay put. File folders and dates. Revisions, and final versions. A silent grunt from the back of his throat and slim fingertips that pulled at the top button of a white dress shirt; popping it open with what you thought was much more force than was necessary. The slide of a long black necktie out of its knot and then pulled with force out of its collar until the silken fabric whipped free and hung toward the floor. Checking email attachments. Checking email recipients. Double checking email attachments and checking email recipients. Undoing buttons on cuff sleeves and rolling sleeves up, dear god, forearms with defined muscles— triple checking attachments and recipients and attachments and recipients.
He was moving inside now; wearing your pink slippers on his sock covered feet. As he moved just inside the space so he could place a duffel bag carefully down onto the floor, he squatted in front of it and he was digging inside. Raindrops rolled down the sides of the bag and he used the towel to blot up the moisture.
“Noona, would it be weird if I changed? I don't like being wet.” The second he turned toward you to speak, you shot your eyes to your laptop screen with impressive speed.
“No, it wouldn't be weird, why would that be weird? We are no longer at work, you are off the clock. I also hate being w-w…like that. Nothing weird about that — ” You recognized the telltale sounds of panic in your own voice and you stopped the next words from coming out of your mouth with a deep shaking inhale through your open mouth, “—at all.” You breathed out the last words to make your sentence complete and you vowed, swore, begged, and pleaded for yourself to calm down and just be normal for once in your entire goddamned life, please — please. Your face felt like it might be on fire.
You lifted a finger and you pointed toward your bathroom door. Maybe you had something that could be considered a non threatening smile on your face. The door was already open and there was no need to point it out. It was very obviously a bathroom. He had already been walking in that direction.
Baekhyun was watching you from about halfway there. He’d stopped his forward progress the second you started rambling and his eyes were wide and his lips were shut. After what felt like about 10 minutes of staring, but was probably only 10 seconds in reality, his eyes bounced around somewhere above the ceiling above your head and he nodded his head twice with his eyes way up there.
Then he swallowed, inhaled a half breath and he let out a high pitched, almost painful sounding, “Yep…Okay,” with a very definite wince on his face. He turned and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
After at least a minute you heard the click of the door being locked.
Well.
That went…bad.
You closed your eyes and groaned out loud. Resting your head in your hands, you wondered if it really came down to it and you had to vomit, would you just do it in the kitchen trash can, or the kitchen sink and risk clogging the pipes, or maybe you’d run to the balcony and puke over the railing. That might be the best option actually because you could also just hurl your body over the railing too and see which hit the ground first.
Your money was on the vomit, but some distant memory from one of your high school science classes brought the words terminal velocity flashing through your head and before you knew it you had a google tab opened up, reading the FAQ page from some reputable science website.
Your curiosity was satisfied. You stared ahead at the closed bathroom door with a decision to make now.
Would you be normal?
Or would you splatter onto the pavement at the same time as your vomit?
These were the only two options you gave yourself. Because the second option sounded just so very bad, you really had no other choice.
You had to be normal. You lifted yourself onto your legs and made your way into the kitchen. Baekhyun had arrived as your assistant but could your assistant also not be a guest in your home? An assistant guest deserved a beverage. Your fridge had a few options. And when you heard the bathroom door open you called out over your shoulder from somewhere inside the fridge.
“Do you want anything to drink? I have some teas, some water, some juice…” You did not mention the beer that sat in the back of the fridge. He had to drive back home later and you weren’t sure what his tolerance might be like.
“Tea is fine,” his voice came from right beside you in this kitchen and you steadied your face with a pleasant smile for him before you turned to face him.
He was watching you with an equally pleasant smile on his own face. He wore a plain white t-shirt now, some light gray sweatpants, and clean white socks on his feet. He’d abandoned your light pink slippers it seemed. You tried not to linger on him for too long. Of course he looked beautiful in his gym clothes. You allowed your eyes half a second max to look at him. Any longer than that was superfluous and unnecessary.
Your smile was slipping and you strengthened it.
“Green, black, or a citrusy one?” His eyes slipped down the length your face when you spoke again. But he was quick with an inhale and he also matched your smile before he responded.
“Surprise me.” He bit down on his bottom lip and you reached a blind hand into the fridge grabbing randomly.
You came out with the green tea and held it out for him to grab, reaching a second hand for the same for yourself, you quickly made an escape back to the safety of the work. The work would save you, as it often did when you were faced with having to look too closely at Baekhyun.
This time instead of sitting on the sofa, you opted to sit down on the floor in front of your coffee table. The floor had plenty of space for him to also sit beside you without it being on the loveseat, which you right now decided was off limits to the both of you.
“Noona,” Baekhyun said after a while of watching you stare at your screen as you worked harder and better than you’ve ever worked in your entire life.
“Hmm?” You didn’t look over at him when he spoke, but you did stop the typing and you did raise a single eyebrow as a cue that yes, you responded to him and yes you were giving him enough of your attention to say whatever he had wanted to say.
He didn’t speak right away though and eventually the curiosity about his silence grew.
When you found him he was watching your face and his head lifted ever so slightly to have your actual attention.
“You’re different at home.” It was a quiet observation this time, and behind his eyes you could see the smile there. He lifted the bottle of tea and took the smallest sip. He wasn’t looking at you anymore but you wondered what he meant by different.
“Like bad different?”
He swallowed the tea and was looking across the room at a wall of art you had assembled there.
“Nope,” he said cryptically, drawing out the vowel sound in the word and letting his lips pop with the P at the end and he pushed himself off the floor to his feet and made his way across the space to look at each piece you remember carefully hanging up the week you moved in. It was all silly art. Nothing valuable but every single bit of it made you happy whenever you looked at it.
“Different how?” It was probably the clothes. You were way too dressed down and you probably seemed like a different person to him. You couldn’t quite help the slight upset that you felt somehow. Like maybe you should have put on a little bit of makeup, or done something with your hair before he came. Maybe you should have put off the shower altogether. You held in the strange negativity you felt by his comment and held your breath when you saw the inhale he took as he turned away from the brightly colored hand painted horse wearing an eye patch painting he had been looking closely at.
“Different, different,” he said cryptically and you groaned out loud at being baited by his non answer.
Damn him. You heard the giggle in response and he shook his head at you with a tiny pop out of the tip of his tongue. This would not do.
“Just tell me, like different in a bad way or a good way?” you felt yourself being tricked by this but you felt so powerless. He was very good at it and he had seemed to have perfected his skills over the course of working with you.
“It’s not bad,” he said after a while of looking at you and there was a slow and steady sinking of his playful smile as he did it.
“You can have next Tuesday afternoon off if you just tell me,” you said it flippantly and you were almost completely finished with your work. An entire hour before the deadline. You could feel the end nearing. You could almost taste the bubbles of the beer you would sip on and you could already hear the music you would play on your speakers as you settled into the warm comforting pillows and fluffy blankets of your bed.
“The whole afternoon?” His eyes widened and his eyebrows lifted at the promise you apparently had just made to lose your assistant for an entire afternoon. At least you’d picked one of the less busy days to offer.
You casually shrugged and hit send, submitting everything you needed to submit, you saved your work on the cloud database that management all used and you began to close out all of those damned tabs that kept you chained to this work life.
“Okay, well, at work you're super professional and kinda scary and very intimidating,” oh boy he was talking now. Did he just call you scary? You could feel yourself making a face. It wasn’t one of your best. There was a pout involved.
“But here, you’re like,” his confidence seemed to falter and his eyes didn’t look at yours but rather did a little dance off to the side, “d-different.”
“I know you didn’t just use the exact same word I’ve asked you to define three times now, Byun Baekhyun.” You’d had enough and you snapped. It wasn't your finest moment.
You saw him physically flinch and then he started talking fast. In your defense you did feel a little bad when you saw the flinch.
“Different like, soft and cute different. Soft and cute, like a girlfriend would be different. That kind of different, Jesus.” He said all so fast and you could see the tension in his jaw as the words came out. “I mean, but not right now, you were very much exactly the same as you are at work, just now.” His eyes were wide and his finger was pointing as he spoke his last bit. Not that that part mattered because your mind replayed the parts he said before.
You saw sparkly little starbursts around the letters as they danced inside of your head.
Soft and cute.
Like a girlfriend.
“Oh,” was all you could manage to say. A slight flush crept up your cheeks and you focused all of your attention on unplugging cords on your laptop and oh so carefully putting everything in its rightful spot in the bag.
“I’m done,” you said softly without looking into Baekhyun's face. If he had anything further to add to that description of how very different you were at home, he didn’t offer it freely and you also didn’t ask a single follow up question.
You could feel a moment approaching. A kind of do-or-die moment. A speak-now-or-forever-hold-your-peace moment.
It was still raining outside. You could hear the steady drops hitting your patio through the sliding glass door and the nighttime city lights blurred as the falling water pulled the city view into a distorted and warbled mix of bright colors.
“It’s still raining out,” you said softly in his general direction and his eyes pulled up from where a comfortable stare had kept him looking into your eyes. He did not ask anything from you that required an answer. He looked at you and his eyes blinked but he didn’t speak. You could see that his drink was almost finished now, just as your work had been.
When he finally did speak it was after you’d both been watching the other for too long, wondering who would break first. It kind of seemed like his turn now, you’d managed the comment about the rain.
“Noona,” he said from the spot beside the horse.
I should go. I should leave. I have a long drive back home.
It’s getting late and the roads are wet, Baekhyun, you should stay at least for a while longer. You haven’t had any dinner have you? Let’s eat together. Don't go just yet. You only just got here.
“Hmm?” You hummed in response to him and your voice got halfway caught in your throat, making it come out as mostly air.
“Noona, I think—” He stopped speaking. He was looking ahead of himself holding on to the empty bottle of processed sugary green tea and he stood there with his eyes blinking faster now than when he started speaking to you.
And then his smile came. Oh it was bright and it was lovely, that smile that filled up his face, it didn’t reach his eyes entirely because he was shaking his head back and forth with the smile on his lips.
“Nevermind, Noona. I should go,” He said it softly and cheerfully and then he was moving. “Your Assistant has to leave.��
His smile was so bright and whatever he had been about to say to you was snuffed out instantly by the brightness and the forced cheerful way he declared his intent to leave this place; to leave you.
You had to respond in kind. You stood up quickly and you hid away every little bit of evidence of disappointment you might have betrayed and you played along with happiness about his departure. Maybe he really was glad to go. Maybe he was exhausted from the very long day and longed for the peace of his own home.
This was for the best, of course it was.
“Oh, okay.” You said. It came out a little bit like a whisper, but you still had that smile on your face so that meant something.
He was gathering his things and he was leaving. You couldn't blame him. He had done his part and completed the job needed today. He made sure to bring the blue harddrive to you and he saved the day, just like a good assistant did. The best assistant.
Baekhyun left quietly.
When the door closed there was a new silence in your home that you instantly hated. It was thick and it coated you from the top of your head down our shoulders and made you feel heavy. Lightning struck somewhere in the distance and it was loud enough for you to subconsciously begin counting the seconds to see how far away it was.
A few seconds later you heard the boom and you wished you had made him take an umbrella with him.
You wished he had stayed. You wanted him to stay. You wanted him to finish his thought. What was he about to tell you?
‘Noona, I think-‘
You’d give him a whole week off if he could come back and finish that sentence.
Your feet weren’t quite working. That claggy feeling that had taken over your body made your legs sticky and heavy and you were still standing by the door obsessing over those three words you heard repeated again and again in his voice for how long, you weren’t certain about. Through at least a few more thunderclaps though.
Just when you’d worked up the nerve to walk away from the door you heard an impossible sound ring out in your apartment.
It wasn’t thunder, but it hit you with just as much of a shock that you jumped and yelped in surprise from it.
It was the doorbell.
Someone was ringing your doorbell and it took you a few seconds to recover from the shock. You leapt forward and put a hand on the doorknob.
What if some crazy person had just seen Baekhyun leave and was waiting to hack you to bits with an ax?
You were cautious with it. It was close to midnight now and outside there was thunder and lightning, the perfect kind of weather to hide some poor woman’s screams as she was chopped to bits with an ax.
You tiptoed just enough to see through the peep hole and you could clearly make out the familiar blond head of hair and bright waving smiling face of your very own Byun Baekhyun. He held up his hand, displaying a plastic bag from what you assumed was the convenience store downstairs and you turned the handle and pushed it open.
“Noona!” He shouted as soon as the door was open. “Noona, you will not believe the day I have had at work.”
You were absolutely positive that your face looked only like wild with genuine shock and confusion, which he was flat out ignoring it right now.
“Baekhyun, what—” You began as you pulled the door open. He had a forward momentum about him though and you had to step aside to avoid being bumped as he walked right into your house, for the second time tonight, only this time, doing some sort of a bit. He walked with confidence and with purpose as if he had been here many, many times before.
“I just had to come and visit my favorite Noona to tell her all about my insane day,” he swallowed in the middle of his explanation. His eyes had a frantic look to them. “—my insane work day where I work with my manager?” His eyebrows were lifted in your direction expectantly and you watched his face with much of that exact same look of shock and confusion on your face. Only there was a bit more acceptance beginning to grow.
His bright smile did not quit and you found yourself betraying the tiniest hopeless laugh as you merely followed his steps inside your kitchen where he plopped down a six pack of beer and several bags of what looked to be snacks and assorted instant noodles.
Something felt different this time. You didn’t know how in the hell he did it but maybe it was because he was referring to your job and your manager title in the third person now, you really felt so much more at ease watching him walking around your kitchen doing things like putting some water on to boil in the kettle and reaching for chopsticks from your utensil drawers.
“So…” he began after opening two beers and handing one of them to you. He didn’t speak right away but he did lift his beer up and clink it against yours ever so slightly. You found an easy spot to sit and watch whatever this show he was putting on was from the bar stool on the other side of your kitchen counter. You had to admit, your mood was miles away from where it had been before your doorbell rang. The smiles felt natural and came easily to you now. This version of Baekhyun was the best one yet.
“So,” you lifted the beer to your lips and took a sip. “Tell me about your day.” You somehow felt that this was the right line for you and you reached for a bag of chips and ripped it open. This felt like exactly what you needed actually. A little gossip with a friend who thinks of you as his favorite Noona. The strangest excitement was building inside of you as he sighed dramatically and lifted his hands to his face for the sake of the story.
“It all started this morning Noona, I fucked up. I fucked up big time,” your mouth was full of chips and you crunched through the revaluation of this big mistake he had made.
“It can’t have been that bad,” you said through bites, faking ignorance for the sake of this game.
“So you know this big presentation that has been coming up? Like weeks we’ve been working our asses off, my manager harder than anyone? Well right before the presentation I made a huge mistake. Huge. Like world-ending.”
Your mind flashed back to the morning of this very long day. You knew the exact mistake he was talking about but he seemed to be working toward something here so you took another sip of your beer and ate some more chips as a response.
“Can’t have been that bad,” you repeated again. Your acting skills were always a little bit lacking. “What did you even do, it’s not like you did something like…kissed her right before she went on stage, right?”
His hands were covering his open mouth and you heard a dramatic gasp. “How did you know?” He said convincingly and you felt a big laugh escape.
“Wild guess, Baekhyun,” you said through laughter. Never in a million years did you think you would be talking about this with him and actually enjoying yourself. What kind of magician was he?
“So what did she do? What about the presentation”
“She fucking killed it, of course. I knew she would though, she’s incredible. I’m not kidding, she’s like,” his eyes were full and wide and he threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling, “like no one else.”
“So, it wasn’t that bad then, right? Why did you do it?” The fun on the surface game took on a slight feeling of trouble with your next question. You reached for another chip and Baekhyun turned his back on you to grab the screaming tea kettle from the stove.
“Why else does a guy kiss a girl?” You heard him say with his attention down on the boiling water that he was pouring into a single large sized bowl of instant ramen.
You bit down on your bottom lip and you watched the slight wobble in the water as it went into the paper bowl. His grip on the kettle seemed just a little unsteady now.
“Could there be lots of reasons why?” You began as unsteadily as the stream of water poured into the ramen bowl.
“Like maybe you just made a mistake, or didn’t mean to do that, or—”
His eyes looked up into yours with as much disbelief as he could manage and he exhaled a hard breath out of his nose and you pulled your lips closed quickly before you could come up with any more nonsense reasons for that kiss.
You knew with that single look from him, just how full-of-shit he found every single one of your reasons for the kiss. Still your mind had trouble connecting his intentions and the action itself. It was as if you’d been so far into the pit of denial now that you were having trouble finding the footing to crawl your way out of it. Baekhyun was trying to throw you a rope but you missed catching it every single time.
“Well, what did she say about it?”
His hands lifted the ramen and he put it up onto the counter beside you so the noodles could soften and you watched as he grabbed his beer and he walked around the kitchen island to take the bar seat right beside you.
He was very close to you now.
You could feel his arm against your shoulder when he sat down and his brows furrowed as he looked down into the covered bowl that sat between you both.
“She got mad at me after that,” he said softly, aiming his little pout toward the noodles instead of at you. “I don't think it was because I kissed her, but maybe it was. I don't know.” From his chest came a big sigh that absolutely did not feel like part of this whole act. In fact, every single thing he said had just enough of a touch into your eyes that you knew he meant every word he was saying to you now.
“This is why I’ve come to you, my very favorite Noona, for advice.”
He propped an elbow up on the counter and tilted his head, leaning against his hand. His eyes were watching you and he had just the smallest smile on his lips as he did it. His eyes sparkled in your direction and you felt the air around your head take on a static tingle the longer he looked at you like this.
This Baekhyun was so very dangerous simply because he was so disarming. All you wanted was to look into his face and to answer each and every one of his questions. All you wanted was to tell him the truth of it all.
It was terrifying.
“Maybe,” you began cautiously and his eyes blinked at you expectantly as you began to speak, practically rooting for you to go on with their eagerness. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from laughing. How could he have managed to pull this conversation out of you? You were falling for it so easily. You even found yourself wanting to fall for it as easily as you were. You felt bewitched and beguiled and you realized that you might have actually lost this battle a long time ago.
“Maybe?” He urged softly and he broke eye contact to open the lid and check on the noodles.
“Maybe she was mad at how you acted after the kiss?”
This suggestion brought a tilt to his head and he furrowed his eyebrows and searched his memory for a moment.
“How I acted? How did I act? Because I was nervous? Does she only like super confident guys?” You caught a souring of his face for a moment. “Maybe that’s why she liked Chet. All of that undeserved and unearned confidence. Ugh”
“Hey, she never liked Chet. Not like that. Chet was okay to work with, but that’s it.” You lifted your hands to draw a hard imaginary line in the air to emphasize your point.
“And besides, it might not have been about confidence or being nervous, Baekhyun. Maybe she got mad because you immediately switched from calling her something sweet like ‘Noona’ to something cold and sterile and ultra aloof like ‘Miss Manager’ and she thought that maybe you instantly regretted kissing her because you didn’t even mean it and you wished you could take it back and leave and never ever come back.”
Now you had done it. You could feel every cell in your body alive and on full alert from this sudden confession you had somehow been tricked into spewing out all over this countertop and Baekhyun was watching your face very closely for every single word of it.
He stared at you for a long time in silence and there was a slight sinking of his eyelids as he did it. After a while he inhaled a slow and steady breath that must have made his head feel too heavy because he tilted his head a tiny bit to the side and swallowed.
You could feel the time passing through this. You could feel every raindrop that fell on your patio outside. You could count the beats of your heart that echoed inside your ears and he wasn’t speaking at all.
Until he spoke at last.
“Nah, that’s not it.” He said after a deep inhaled breath and you swear to god you felt the earth open up below your feet and swallow you up. Or maybe you just wished it would.
Your eyes opened wide and looked up into the ceiling. You could feel the saliva inside of your mouth refuse to go down even though you swallowed like five times in rapid succession. Finally you couldn't stand to witness any more at all and you closed your eyes up tight and tried to focus on getting your heart rate or your breathing to calm down. It didn’t help much.
It felt horrible and humiliating. You were too close to being overcome. How could he…did he really intend to let you say all of that, admit to all of that and just…laugh at you for it like this? You felt close to an upset. You could feel the heat building behind your eyes and you knew you couldn't do this for very much longer and keep in control of your emotions. You’d already given way too much away.
It was two or three fingertips and that touched over the side of your face that first did it - that brought you out of it. Someone was touching you. Someone was begging you now. You felt the warmth on your face.
Those two fingertips on your cheekbone and you allowed your eyes to open just a little and you turned your focus over to face him. His eyes were on you now and you felt more of his slim fingers slipping along your face until you had turned into him and between the tremble in your lips and the warmth you felt all over your face; it must have felt like a fever with his hand on you like this.
“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. It was a bad joke, baby, I’m sorry,” he was whispering now but he had moved in so close to you that everything he spoke was like headphones sending his whispered words directly into your chest. The new name he called you in that careful cautious whisper of his spread through your chest like wildfire and you were consumed by it. It called to you again and again.
baby
Did he really just—
Did he really call you that with his hand on your face and the warmth of his own forehead leaning against your own and your whole body nearly ready to burst into flames under the heavy weight of his hand on your face?
You felt his other hand now, landing on the other side of your face and there was a pull to look up into his eyes. You had been avoiding them until now.
The pressure of this room made it hard to breathe with him so close to you and with the ghost of that ‘baby’ was still dancing around behind your eyes.
“Noona, I think,” he spoke softer now and your mind sharpened to the words he had told you earlier, the words he tried to say before he left, before he left as your assistant and came back to you just as Baekhyun; as just your Baekhyun. You must be dreaming. This didn’t feel real.
His words, the familiarity of them and desperately you repeated them to yourself after he left, these words once again teased on the tip of his tongue, they pulled your eyes into his and he was watching you from much too closely for you to really be able to focus on anything but the deep brown color of his eyes.
“Noona, I think we like each other.” He was looking into your eyes when he said it and you had no words to refute it. It was true for you and it must also be true for him.
You felt the warmth of his breath that came in short bursts from his parted lips against your face and when you leaned into him. You felt the softness of those pink lips mold into your own when you kissed him.
You felt the deafening silence as every single voice of reason and each and every alarm bell inside of you went still when you kissed him.
You felt the lighting strike hit close enough this time to send a bolt straight through your chest when you kissed him.
[To Be Continued]
Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5
#exo#exo fanfiction#baekhyun#exo fic#exo scenario#baekhyun smut#exo baekhyun#baekhyun story#baekhyun romance#girl dinner
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OC Questionnaire tag!
thank you @drchenquill for the tag! Gonna use Hans-el, who is going to be extremely pissed off by most of the questions haha
Are you named after anyone?
"You noticed my name is not typical of my people, I see. My father had an infatuation with mortal cultures, and my mother, may her ectoplasm soak the earth, thought the silly little folk-tale about the brother and sister quaint. Shame she did not have a chance to give me a sister. What a sight that would have been, two spirit siblings with human names."
When was the last time you cried?
"Has Hash been going around tattling on me? I am the great Spirit Emperor. I do not cry. Last night was but a... fluke. As were the nights before it."
Do you have kids?
"Do I look like I want a usurper of my throne? Of course I do not. Nor would I ever want one. My bloodline ends with me, as it should. Better to go out with a bang than a whimper."
Do you use sarcasm a lot?
"I am far too sweet and kind a man to do that. Of course I do. What better way is there to get my advisors' braids in a twist? I do try to avoid using it on Hash, though. Now there's a darling who's truly far too sweet and kind for that."
What's the first thing you notice about people?
"Their magic, by and large. The kind of mage they are tells me the kind of person they are. 'Tis the magicless that are the ones I am often wary of. Those tend to conceal hidden depths, and of the shark-infested sorts."
What's your eye colour?
"My people call it iil'kalre, or autumn-leaf gold. Honestly I prefer yellow. There is nothing poetic about eyes, except their taste."
Scary movies or happy endings?
"Believe it or not, I prefer a happy ending. The sort where the hero trying to save her family does, in fact, succeed against all odds. Those sorts of stories inspire hope, and I like hope. It is fun to crush."
Any special talents?
"You know, those who ask uncomfortable questions should be prepared to receive uncomfortable answers. I am Spirit Emperor, the closest thing to a god in this day and age. Let us leave it at that."
Where were you born?
"What sort of question is that? In my home-clan, obviously. If you meant to ask me where my clan lay, it was in the Celitane forest. The Godhuntress destroyed it long ago, and what remains is merely bad memories and death."
Do you have any pets?
"Do human children count? If so, I had one a while back. She is all grown up now, but I still visit her from time to time. She gives me special rates on smuggling artifact in from Luxatia."
What kind of sports do you play?
"I do not play sports, though I practice some forms of martial arts. 'Tis rather unbecoming of a gentleman, but absolutely necessary for an Emperor."
How tall are you?
"How well can you survive a fall off a mountain? Those two may well be the same question, if you continue prodding me. And for the record, foresters are simply less vertically inclined than mountainers. There is nothing peculiar about my height."
What was your favourite subject in school?
"School? Do I look like a woman to you? Egalitarian though we are, even the foresters did not educate males. Today's boys are fortunate beyond belief."
What is your dream job?
"When I was a little boy, I wanted to showcase curios, in one of those museum humans seem so fond of. But I am Spirit Emperor, and the only way one leaves that post is with their ectoplasm returned to the earth."
Tagging @rivenantiqnerd, @pluppsauthor, @beloveddawn-blog, @kaylinalexanderbooks and open tag!
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There is a thing I don't get, why Yuanzhi was so against the idea of Ziyu becoming the sword wielder?
Just because he wanted his brother to be it? Or because of the rumors about Ziyu's mother? I mean, Shangjue was always logical on the reasons why he didn't want Ziyu to be the leader while Yuanzhi seemed to just do what he was told to do.
I read an answer on Reddit where Yuanzhi was described as Shangjue's dog, with no opinions of his own, petty and oblivious. Many people regarded him as the true villain of the show because he caused pain and played tricks for no real reasons. Do you think he is like that? Only smart for poisons?
Me to the Redditor who said that:
Knuckle and buckle, kids, you're on the Gab Meta Train.
1. Gong Ziyu started out hella unqualified and everyone knows it
Don't come at me and tell me Gong Ziyu was the most worthy candidate to be the Sword Wielder because based on the first character setup, he definitely was not it. He was known to frequent the pleasure house, he stumbles home drunk in broad daylight, he has no involvement in the family's affairs, and he is most definitely more known as a dandy than anyone who is being groomed to take over the helm of the family.
Honestly, off the bat, in real life, would you want someone with a proven track record to lead you and protect you and your interests, or would you want some dude who is better known for hanging out at a brothel than he is actually handling paperwork or has a track record of maturity?
Yuanzhi, who is younger than Ziyu, but already is contributing to the day-to-day running and the development of tech and research for the family.
Which means...?
He has skin in the game about who he wants to lead him in the family. And that's a very valid stance to take. It's more than "oh Gege told me to do this, so I will" because that's such a sad 1 dimension take, and again, to that Redditor:
Of course, we as the audience know that Ziyu will shape up. He will step up and he will answer the call, so to speak. But Gong Yuanzhi and Gong Shangjue did not. And if you really think about it, they're pretty much 'employees' of the Gong company. They just didn't agree with what top management decided and vocally voiced that opinion.
If you reeeeeallly want to think about it, they were just unionising :)
(gonna put this under a read more coz it got long)
2. Gong Shangjue has instilled a mentality of "Family First"
Relating to the first point.
Shangjue is obviously Yuanzhi's North Star. He is who Yuanzhi is shaping himself to be, and for all we know of his character, of course he would. He's basically the perfect man to aspire to be in a society like theirs.
So, when Shangjue says, "Family is the Most Important", don't you think Yuanzhi is gonna listen? Gong Shangjue is Gong Yuanzhi's most important person. He's family in a way that the rest aren't. Even if he doesn't outright say "I want that position", Yuanzhi would have done anything to help support him and get him there.
And going on the point where Shangjue and Yuanzhi were on Ziyu's case coz of the rumours that his mom was possibly pregnant when she married into the Gong family; I know other users on the MJTY tag have quite possibly discussed this matter (shoutout to @kingsandbastardz @swiftletinthecloud @romchat for their lovely metas and analysis posts ❤️ I consume them with much gratitude and glee), but let me crudely try to wrangle what has been beautifully said into my my own words;
For a family that prides themselves with being very strict about their familial rules, the fact that there is some measure and level of doubt persisting about Ziyu's parentage should have and must disqualify him from the position itself. Ziyu's dad could have easily kiboshed the rumours but he didn't, why?
More than that, the implication given to Shangjue over tea was that the position of Zhiren was always meant to go to him. Rewatch that scene where he last saw his uncle. Tell me differently.
The whole paternity issue is just one facet of a very Ziyu shaped problem. Having a murky paternity will raise issues of succession. Why do you think the nobilities of Europe back then had a court of people, usually people of importance, to be present when a marriage was consummated and a child was born? This is to make sure that there was no doubt that the marriage was legitimate and the line of succession and paternity remains unbroken.
(there were always exceptions to the rule, of course, but you get my drift, right?)
Of course, we got the resolutions to all of these issues; Ziyu was always the bio son of the Zhiren, he probably didn't kibosh the rumours because he never wanted to have his son carry that burden of leading the family when he could tell that his son had always wanted to leave the Valley, and Shangjue never coveted the position in the first place, he just wanted the right person to lead.
3. Yuanzhi has no opinions
Yuanzhi's just a dog to Shangjue? Well, if he's a dog, I wanna be one too Woof Woof.
Yuanzhi has his own motivations and drive. They just so happened to be Gege-shaped. I don't see how that warrants being called someone's dog.
He doesn't have his own opinions? Bro quite literally almost died to prove a point that the porridge was poisoned and Shangguan Qian cannot be trusted. HOW IS THAT NOT HAVING AN OPINION?
WERE WE EVEN WATCHING THE SAME SHOW???
Honestly, it's Reddit so I shouldn't be this surprised about the hot takes that happen on there, but damn if some people lack two brain cells to rub together to critically consume the media in front of them.
4. Yuanzhi is a reactionary character
Think about it; how many times throughout the narrative did he cause problems for no apparent reason?
If anything, don't you think that Ziyu & co. are the ones who deliberately do things to antagonise him and Shangjue? It's almost midnight as I am typing this and the old noggin is starting to lag, but let's focus on the blood GPS incident.
Yuanzhi saw that the people in the Yu residence were being a bit suspicious so he goes to snoop (cause + reason = reaction). Jin Fan is best boy, but Yuanzhi did not instigate that fight, he did (with good reason i know i know). (offense + defense = reaction). Ziyu & co. tried to stuff him into the closet (*snerk*) and what does he do? Bites down until he bleeds because he knows Gege will find him if he sniffs him out. And he did. A successful reaction.
In my opinion, he's like gunpowder -- left alone, they'll be fine. When given a spark, will react.
And again with feeling... To the Redditor who spouted such utter shite;
Class dismissed
#if it sounds like i have taken offence and would like to challenge to a duel of honour at dawn; it is and i do#I'm filled with fight me energy#gong yuanzhi#GRRR HOW DARE THEY#their brains must be smooth#the lights must be on but no one is home#because you can't be that stupid can you?#oh wait. yeah. yeahhh you can#my journey to you meta#my journey to you#gab rambles
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Third Counts
Summary: Kimi’s girl promises to give him anything he wants, so long as he keeps a promise of his own.
Word Count: 2k
Warnings: dom/sub undertones, switch behavior, penetrative sex, greedy!kimi
Translations: I’m American what do you want. Google translate. Kultsi / Gold Ole Hyva Tytto / Be A Good Girl
A/N: Brainworms for real. Minors DNI. Yeah, I’m h*rny on main, what are you gonna do about it? I’ve been flat out of shape for a while now, my keyboard and I are going through a divorce, but I am back and sicker than ever. The rest is here.
They’ve been in the pen for a while now, he’s one of the last to go for his pre race interview. It makes sense, he has the least to say—he’s built a career around the fact. Nonetheless, despite how used she might be to waiting with him, she is starting to grow impatient. Toying with the quilted cotton of his racing suit, she tilts from one heel to the other, trying to stay cool.
It's hot here in Budapest, and humid, her head has started to fog, almost literally. “Be nice, remember your answers about the engine?” The barrier in front of them has been filled in by Sebastian, they’re next, finally.
“I’m always nice.”
“What are you saying about the engine?” She hardly skips a beat on his snarky response, too hot to have one of her own.
“I’ve been working with the guys, we have confidence in our improvements. Pace has improved over qualy, obviously.”
“No attitude on the ‘obviously.’” Laura presses a kiss to his cheek, winding her fingers through the fist he’s curled at his side.
“So bossy.”
“Yeah, thanks, see you all after, hopefully with a win!” Sebastian is grinning, waving to the crowd of journalists hanging on his every word.
“If you’re good, I’ll let you boss me back later.” She nips at his ear when she whispers to Kimi, breath hot against his skin. Laura catches a blush on his cheek before putting a hand on his back and shoving him towards the barrier.
Recorder out to catch his answers, she follows him forward, slinking off to the side to stay out of sight. Be good, she mouths. A flush crawls up his neck as the questions start.
“Hello, always good to see you Kimi. We’ll keep it short. Any thoughts about the race ahead?”
“No. Good track, will be good to drive.” His mouth sets into a line, and he lets his eyes slide towards Laura for approval.
“Ha, right. You’ve had some engine troubles over the season so far, but expectations were high for Hungary, how are you feeling in regards to the improvements?”
“I’ve been working with the guys. It’s been hard of course to keep having such troubles,” His eyes slide, taunting her as he ad libs his way through the question. The quirk in her brow puts a smirk on his face. “It’s about reliability now, we have confidence in the improvements. Pace improved in qualifying, obviously.”
His tone is attitude free at the end, and Laura fights a smirk of her own when he glances at her.
“Alright then, good luck, we’ll see you after, hopefully with a podium of some kind?” Will Buxton looks expectant, offering the mic one last time as if Kimi might transform into a fountain of speech.
“Yeah, okay.” A toothy grin breaks across Kimi’s face as he turns away, arm out to take Lauras as they start their escape back to the garage.
“You’ll do what I say now, yes?” Kimi has an arm wound tight around her waist as he steers them both into the garage, beelining past the car to press her into a corner.
Bringing a hand up to his collar, Laura lets her back flatten against the cold wall of the garage, trying not to groan as the air conditioning begins to hit them fully.
“Kultsi?” His voice is even, but his face tells a different story. Hands tight on her waist, he drives his hips into hers. Both arms up, hands on his collar, the fabric rippling, she finds his eyes before pulling at the suit. Dragging his head down, she hooks his chin with her shoulder, planting a kiss on a vein that's started to show along his neck.
“If you bring me a trophy,” Laura presses her mouth to his neck, tongue sliding over the tattoo of her name that covers his skin until she lands beneath his ear. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”
“I think P3 was a realistic ending for you, baby. Two slow pit stops, and that safety car threw everyone off. I think everyone is happy with P3.”
“I’m not mad. P3 is good.” Kimi holds open the door to his motorhome, waving her through with his free hand. “P3 still gets a trophy.”
The door shuts behind him with a dull whistle, locking them in for the first private moment they’ve had all week. Laura can feel her heart skip a beat, and then another when he steps towards her.
“Is that so?”
The heat is starting to affect her vision too, she can’t remember watching him cross the motorhome to stand in front of her, but he is. Looking down his nose into her eyes, smirking as he shifts the trophy into her hand.
“I’m not sure this counts.” It definitely does, it’s a pretty white vase with blue leaves and gold on the trim. It's heavy too, ceramic maybe. She’s not arguing because she disagrees, or even because she wants to stall. Only to rile him up, to make his blood rush, to make him desperate and needy and hungry—hungrier than she knows he is already.
He’s warm, feet planted between hers, hips digging at hers as he tries to maintain his composure. “You promised, Kultsi.” His voice is tight and raspy, frustration evident, just how she likes it. Hands on her waist, his fingers dig into the fabric of her skirt, nails threatening to rip through it completely.
Weak at the first sign of him begging, Laura presses a kiss to his mouth, smiling into him when he moans into her. “Tell me what you want then, baby.”
“I want you to ride me.” He kisses the words into her mouth, tongue sliding across her bottom lip as he speaks. Fingers still rigid, he moans again before clawing fully at her skirt, rushing for the zipper and shoving it down her thighs before its undone properly.
The black fabric is a puddle at her feet, soon joined by a bright Ferrari red blouse. One hand on his tattoo, the other pressed flat over his boxers, she is too busy kissing him to notice as his racing suit is lost in a similar frenzy.
Clothing on the floor, he slides his hands down her back, pulling her up off her feet until he’s holding her up against his chest, guiding her legs around his waist. Cock straining, she can feel the tip of him between her legs as he stumbles towards the back of the motorhome, mouth on her neck as he walks.
They’re a mess, limbs hitting the narrow walls, drool on his lips as he leaves a mark on the twine of muscle between her collar and shoulder. The end of the bed takes him off his feet and threatens to send them both flying to the floor. It’s unmade, a mess from when he woke from his nap earlier in the day. The sheets tangle between their legs as he drags her up towards the headboard.
“Here, Kultsi.” Tucked between a mountain of pillows, boxers kicked off to the floor, he puts a hand out to guide her into his lap.
Laughing lightly, she tugs at the sheet that's caught on her foot before crawling the rest of the way to him. Legs spread across his thighs, she sits in front of him, baited and waiting.
Kimi cups the back of her head with his left hand, wedding ring pressing against her neck, drawing her in so he can kiss her again. “I want you,” His right hand finds her slit, fingers dipping inside as he tilts her head so he can whisper into her ear. “To ride me until you come. And I’m gonna hold you down when you do, until you give me another.”
Pulling his hand from her, he brings it to her mouth, watching closely as she sucks on his fingers. Covered with saliva, he holds her head steady against his, eyes locked on hers. Dropping his hand low he touches himself, wetting his cock with her spit.
There's a moan shared between them when her hips sink low. Lip between his teeth, he lets his eyes shut, falling against the headboard as she starts to rock back and forth.
It’s slow at first, a gentle bucking motion. He’s buried to the hilt, and she lets herself adjust to the sensation before daring to lift her hips. Arms around his neck, Laura holds herself straight until she finds the right pace. He’s quiet beneath her, eyes cracked slightly to watch her.
“Faster, Kultsi.” Pressing his hand against her ass, he lets his wedding band dig into her skin until he’s certain it has left a mark. She strokes faster, hips bucking as she lifts off of him before sliding back down, her pace heightened at his request.
She looks angelic on him, eyes shut, head rolling, her pretty hair fanned over her chest, the roots sweaty. He watches closely, focused on her face as she scrunches her nose. In quick succession, she clenches around him, faltering as she slides down his shaft, leaving him deep inside her as she nears the edge.
Putting two fingers on her lips, he waits for her to part them before dipping against her tongue, letting her suck at them until they’re coated with spit. Satisfied, he lets them drop between her legs, stroking her clit as her legs begin to twitch around his thighs.
“That’s it.” Using his middle finger, Kimi presses against her clit, scraping his nail across the bud gently. “Come on me, Laura.”
There are tears forming in her eyes when it happens, and he pulls her to his chest soon after, planting a string of kisses along the crown of her head. A moment of stillness passes before he shifts inside her, blissfully aware of how sensitive she must be now.
“Kimi—”
“I’ll do it myself if you don’t.” His thighs move beneath her, and he can feel himself twitching inside her, the head of his cock aching as he strokes into her. She whimpers, her mouth against his shoulder, teeth grazing skin as she tries to sit up.
“Kimi I—”
“Anything I want. One more and I’ll fill you up.” Pushing upwards, he finds a fistful of her hair and eases her back, tugging slightly at her scalp until she’s upright again. “Ole hyva tytto, please.”
It’s quicker than the first. Sloppier too. Her hips throb as she bounces up and down on him, skin slapping loudly as she fucks him into the mattress. His hold on her hair stays, though his arm goes slack when she kisses him, drool passing between the two of them before dripping down her chin.
A wet spot is left on the tattoo on his neck, the faint mark of a shallow hickey over the letter ‘U’ when she finally pulls off of him. All this followed by the slow forming beads of sweat on the crown of her head. She knows they must look filthy, but as a second orgasm nears she can’t bring herself to care.
“Baby, baby I—oh god.” Her back is pin straight as it starts to swell inside her. Laura lets her eyes shut, hands on his chest as the wave begins to roll.
“Good girl, such a good girl.” She can feel him, every inch, inside of her. He’s throbbing, and then, just like he promised, come spills as the wave crashes.
Where she left a mark earlier on his stomach, there is now a puddle, a slick shine across his skin as fluid spreads out over his adonis belt. She crumples almost instantly, collapsing onto his chest, too tired to move.
“Imagine what I'll let you do for P2.” A small laugh falls from her lips, drowning quickly by a gentle kiss as he lifts her jaw between his thumb and forefinger.
“I like it better when you boss me around.”
A/N I need a shock collar. And a leash. Good god almighty y’all. I’ll kiss you on the mouth if you reblog this.
#i am sick in the head#but like#I'm good like this#chattahoochiecoochie writes#kimi fic#kimi raikkonen#f1 smut#f1 fic#f1 fanfic
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Do you think you can help me out? I don't understand why everyone loves Ibuki so much. I mean, I don't want to hate her, but the one thing I don't like is her music. It's been bothering me ever since I learned that she's a fan favorite, I want to know if anyone doesn't like Ibuki because of her music. I get that her popularity has to do with her jokes and fashion, but some of it feels like dark humor to me. You can read my blog for more info if you want (some of it doesn't make sense though).
I don't think anyone likes Ibuki's music aside from Hiyoko, lol. (Unless, of course, you're talking about that amazing fan recording of what "I Squeezed Out the Baby But I Have No Idea Who the Father Is" could sound like, which I would say is an absolute jam.) Just look at everyone else's reaction to it in-game! So you're definitely not alone in such an opinion; I'd be stunned to learn if ANY fans legitimately liked her in-game/in-anime music, actually. I always thought the whole POINT was that it's supposed to sound like a cacophony of garbage. But having some crap musical preferences isn't usually enough to hate OR love somebody, y'know? Whether they're real OR fictional.
(But please, y'all: If any of you legitimately love — or, like @dangan-kagura, totally hate — Ibuki for her.... eccentric musical style, I'd love to hear about that. I want to know you exist!)
But ultimately, I think Ibuki is beloved by the DR fanbase because of three main reasons:
A) Yes, she's funny and cartoonishly positive and speaks in the third person, but she also runs deeper/smarter than she usually acts. We do tend to really dig characters with layers to them that run deeper than our first superficial impression.
B) We also love someone who is relentlessly individualistic and shows no signs of caring what other people think of her. There's an admirable quality to her, particularly in how she's pursuing her music when we meet her.
C) A character with queer undertones (overtones?) is always a character that fandoms will gravitate towards.
Let me go a little more in-depth on those points.
Regarding point A: Obviously, Ibuki acts like a goofball a lot of the time, which can be endearing. But she also surprisingly pulls her weight in the class trials by catching others in lies, pressing people for answers, reporting on exactly what sounds/voices came from where at what points during Chapter 1's murder, and so on. She can be quite insightful — remember that in DR3's Despair Arc, she's the only person in Class 77-B who points out that there's something between Fuyuhiko and Peko — that they're clearly closer than they pretend to be. All of the above speaks to how lowkey observant she is, which supports how she can drop some legit wisdom, such as her mini-speech about "finding oneself" during her final FTE in Island Mode.
Regarding point B: As we gradually learn her background in-game from various conversations and FTEs, we find that she once wrote and co-performed a song with her Light Music Club that became a top-charting single. That fact combined with her incredible guitar skills helped her get scouted by Hope's Peak as the "Ultimate Musician." Even so, she ditched her club and quit pop music so she could make the heavier, harder music SHE wanted to make. And... it's not exactly being well-received, but she doesn't seem to give a damn. She left behind the easy route to praise and loads of cash so she could maintain her artistic integrity and do what she's passionate about and loves doing. That's easy to admire.
Regarding point C: At the end of Island Mode, if the player/Hajime suggests they could now be "lovers," she rejects that notion with a strong "DENIED!" Plus she talks about her heart pounding hard when she sees the other girls in their swimsuits. And there's her request for Mahiru to take picutres of Mikan in compromising positions when poor Tsumiki falls in Chapter 1. And, y'know... the infamous "Welcome to the world of girl love!" quote. All this together has made her be popularly believed to be gay or at least bi/pansexual, and characters with those kinds of hints just always get a lot of love from fans. Geeks do love their slash.
I hope this helped you understand why people are fond of her — including myself. I'd probably put her anywhere from tier 1 to tier 3 of my favorite characters, depending on the day. She's not a lock for the top level by any means, but I'm still a fan and enjoy her presence.
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Rewatched my recording of Rowen's epilogue party today for fun and promptly got knocked out with emotion by her conversation with Gale again, so I figured I might as well inflict that on y'all :3
Their conversation opened with a hug, which is in this post, it's very cute, and then Gale talks about teaching for a bit, prompting this:
Which is wonderful and lovely! Rowen's looking at him so fondly, which makes sense given that their little magic lesson was the first time anyone had ever "properly" taught her magic! She was a scrappy little thieves guild kid who taught herself, after all. So of course she tells him he's an excellent teacher.
Of course she does, given the above. And then-
This look, coupled with that line and the fact that Rowen imagined going on a romantic walk with him during that moment? And that very soon after, he told her about Mystra and she promptly pulled away and that was that? Heartbreaking.
And he follows it up by complimenting her! He knows very well by now that Rowen in that moment had never been formally educated in magic like he was and he's telling her she was already incredible from her own efforts! This man is still so smitten. And then he redirects, back to his students before asking-
Gods, how conflicted I (and Rowen) felt about answering this. Everyone she's talked to so far, when they've asked (and the option was there), she's mentioned Astarion and how happy they are. But with Gale, after they've just danced around the "what could've been" aspect of their relationship, it would feel like rubbing salt in a wound to not only do that, but call Astarion the love of her life, wouldn't it?
So, wizard-exclusive option four it was.
Look at this man's face! Oh my god. Granted I didn't manage to get the best screenshot of it, I was fighting the video player's progress bar a bit, but I swear. He is so fucking fond. I'm unwell about it.
And then!!! He goes from So Damn Fond to "I can't stop talking about you" "I've told my students all about you. You should come teach with me." He has it so bad, my heart hurts.
This is very much Rowen's Worry Incarnate face but let me tell you. When I heard that Gale becomes a professor in his non-god ending, I immediately headcanoned that he brings Rowen in as a guest lecturer, not knowing that he actually makes that offer. Because he knows her history, he knows how much something like that would mean to her. That even though she's grown so much from her state of feeling constantly inferior to everyone when they met, that having her skill as a wizard legitimized in that way is a dream come true. So that's not a look of worry on her face, really. That's "I am holding back tears".
And then below that, there's the layer of "I've missed you, here's a way we can spend time together that I know you won't decline". Not in a manipulative way, obviously, he knows she's happy and he wouldn't begrudge her of that in a million years. Regardless of their relationship being platonic or romantic or anything in between, Rowen's his closest friend who he can truly talk about magic with and it's the same for Rowen! And in the end, even with the heartache that is there, that's what their foundation is and that's what matters.
#me? writing long meta about my OC and her ex-not-boyfriend? who could've guessed XD not like this is the 2nd time it's happened#i am so so curious if he only talks abt the weave scene like that if you had an active romance and broke up or if thats how he refers to it#in general. i guess i'll see when i finish the game as Ry XD#i really didn't mean for this to be so long but what can i say? wizards compel me this should come as a surprise to No One XD#baldurs gate 3#rowen hellane#gale dekarios#rowengale
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Mag 33
*Waves excitedly* Hi Tim!! It's so nice to meet you in person! <3 I'm glad you've arrived to point out problems and try and make Jon do his job properly.
Grumpy >:(
Thank you Tim for the canonical confirmation that normal people do listen to these tapes as part of standard research and study. This is absolutely essential to the inherent comedy of Season 1 and you are an angel for bringing this to our attention.
Fuck me this is so clever. Pointing out that the dates around Hill Top Road are canonically inconsistent during an in-universe moment where the characters are clarifying non-canonical inconsistencies with their own narration of events, thus disguising the fact that time, space and reality actually are inconsistent around Hill Top Road in-universe. This is so clever!!
Imagine doing a PhD in manifestations. What does that even mean.
Also Jon is being Very Grumpy >:( If you don't care about the answer, don't ask the question Archivist. Tim's trying really hard to be chipper and you're not helping.
God it's so good getting these parantheticals describing their tones. I'm really happy that I'm actually reading the transcripts, this is great.
Tim. Tim. Tim. Look at me. Are you saying you've been working in the Archives for months with no idea what the statement IDs meant and you're only admitting it now? Did you not realise the numbers correlated to anything before this moment? If so, you're the most valid motherfucker in this entire Institute and you deserve a raise.
In all seriousness though, this is incredibly understandable. I have actually done it twice! In a previous job at a hospital I worked in Medical Records (which was very similar to an archive) and I was there for months before I figured out that there was a logical sequence to the MRNs (Medical Record Numbers). I thought they were just long strings of unique numbers. And in my current job I work with educational course codes (processing multiple different subject and qualification level codes each day, sometimes working with the same ones for months) and I literally had this job for years before I was told the system behind the codes and learned to actually start using them properly. Before this I relied on route memorisation, and if I forgot a code I was just fucked because I didn't know it was possible to figure them out from context.
In conclusion, Tim is definitely great at his job and deserves a kiss on the lips from me as a reward.
There's so much great stuff here. What happens if there's two statements on the same day? That just never happens? Like, in the entire history of the Institute? How? Why not? Is the Eye on a diet or something? There's definitely instances later in the series where Jon takes more than one live statement in a single day. Does he not allocate them numbers?
This would also imply that the Research department takes, at most, seven new statements a week (both real and fake). That's ridiculous. Although it might explain why there seems to be an inconsistent amount of follow-up for each statement before it arrives at the Archives. If there are so few coming through, looking into them is probably not the main focus of the department. It might even be an afterthought, 'If we have spare time, we might spend Friday looking into a few statements' kind of a job, not something that is prioritised.
Did Gertrude come up with this system? She could have inherited it from the previous Archivist, but it does line up with her policy of making the Archives deliberately disorganised and difficult to extract information from. If she did implement this date system, then that means at some point she went back through every single statement in the Archives (all of them, not just the real ones) and re-numbered them all. Fuck off.
I can see why Jon is not keen to fix her batshit system and implement a new one. Although obviously that's what he should be doing (you could start by using a more efficient date system on new statements and temporarily running both systems at once until you've updated the historical statements) but it would be a massive undertaking and I do not blame Jon at all for not prioritising it given the state of the Archive and also the fact that monsters are real and after him, specifically.
First 'good lord' of the series?? This epsiode is giving us so much.
Also... *raises hand sheepishly* it was me. I complained about that one. I'm sorry Jon.
Uh oh, Tim's cheery demeanor is wearing thin and Jon is boiling over!
It's good to get a reminder that the statements we are hearing are only a small number of the total 'mountain' that the team are working on, and that they are distinct because they can only be recorded to tape. Also seeing how Jon's attitude towards that has changed since Mag 1 is great. He was so composed and in control back then! Now just the reminder that he needs to read the bad statments is enough to have him freaking out.
Tim calming the Archivist down like he's a spooked horse is great, the fact that it works is even better.
And thank you Jon for confirming what was obvious but unspoken last time. Reading the statements isn't just an opportunity for him to practice his theatrics, they take an actual toll on him and are exhausting and stressful to deal with, to the point at which he refuses to return to them even for minor corrections.
And Elias is supplying the Archives with extra entinguishers, literally the least he could possibly do. From memory Jon even had to ask for them after Sasha's statement, Elias didn't do this on his own initiative. Still, it does imply that he wants the Archival staff to have at least a chance of surviving? Probably because it would be boring and annoying to watch them all just die immediately and have to start over with a new team, but I guess it's better than nothing?
Fucking hell, I will never be able to hear that line again without imagining Tim getting horny over Martin sticking his tongue out for him. This fandom ruins everything (affectionate).
I definitely think that even with his understandable aversion to returning to the bad statements, Jon is being influenced by the Eye here. It doesn't want to be fed the same stale statements that the Archivist already gave it!
But, attitude aside, Jon's not wrong. Re-recording would be a waste of time, and a note in the file outlining the disrepency between the 'digital' and hardcopy versions should be adequate.
There, I defended him once, that makes up for dragging him for the Carla/Clara issue. Now we're square again.
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fun fact: trans homicide rates are lower than the population average. men: 6.6 women: 1.8 transgender: 1.4.
Nonnie, why did you send me this? I'm not even any sort of popular feminist blogger or anything. I just had one post blow up on me. You're gesturing at the idea that trans people aren't oppressed because of an allegedly lower rate of being murdered, yes? You come into my inbox, cite sourceless statistics, and think that'll make me kowtow to this ridiculous talking point. Well it won't because that's fucking stupid.
The sillier answer is that trannies don't go out.
The more serious answer is that even if the statistic is real and reputable, it's only as accurate as its collection methods, whatever they may be. They're probably police homicide reports, let's be honest.
Here are a few things to keep in mind:
Bio families of trans people will often lie and claim they were cis. It's a common fear of many trans people that they'll be buried under the wrong name. Families will often deny any knowledge of any gender nonconformity.
A neutrally-dressed trans person who doesn't pass that well may not even register as trans to investigators, but instead as a cis person of their birth gender. Even when a trans person is more obviously trans to an oblivious cissexual, they will often be written off as crossdressers. Trans people are consistently recorded as their birth genders in official documents, especially dead trans people who can't speak up for themselves.
How often are the murders of trans people even recorded as murders of trans people specifically? Whether a murder victim is M or F is recorded universally in just about every jurisdiction, but neither Canada nor the States nor any other country I can think of consistently records whether every murder victim was trans or not. This, of course, makes collating data that much harder.
Are the murders of trans people even recorded as murders? Police regularly write off murders of trans people, sex workers, people who use drugs, and other "undesirables" as No Human Involved. Aside from the refusal to investigate, the deaths may be written off as accidents and illness, not murder.
All other questions and caveats that apply to any population-based statistic apply here, especially questions for truth claims in general. Who reported it? Who published it? For what purpose? Did the people who collected the data have an agenda? Biases? What populations were analyzed specifically, and how big were the sample sizes, and how were numbers calculated? Was there statistical fuckery? How applicable are the results to all populations? How large even is the trans population? Is it controlled for age, race, and class? You gotta answer all these questions before it can be considered in any sort of useful way.
People will often not investigate truth-claims that support their beliefs, and I think nonnie here is a prime example of that. The failure of not thinking about how often trans people are misgendered in death is the most egregious, though everything else I've listed here applies.
#catgirltxt#i should note that i'm high so sorry if the tone of this wanders all over the place#also it's a true fact that people who go out less are at less risk of being murdered!#it's just that people on the internet are biased towards thinking that all trans people are homebodies#because those are the most common types of trans people on the internet#this applies to me too i also forget that trans people go out and to parties because my trans friends stay in
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Okay, so let's address this since it's so obviously meant for us. And for the record, I'm not blocked by OP. I went to check their blog to see if they had anything else interesting to say about the conversation started yesterday. I'm taking a screencap because the post this is attached to has little to do with the issue at hand, and frankly my beef isn't with OP.
Personally, I wouldn't have screencapped the post. I believe that if someone blocks you then you should respect that and not interact with their posts. That's why I personally, when talking about the situation, did not reblog or spread the post with the screencaps further. Since I know Gascon will probably read this I'll make my feelings clear: I think it was a bad call to screencap someone who blocked you.
However, I'm not surprised that you, my not so anonymous dude, decided to present this entirely devoid of any context to make it seem to your friends and followers like there's somehow a moral equivalence between what you do and what was done in this situation. I know you struggle with nuance and context, so I'll spell it out very clearly.
Gascon was directly invited to contribute to a conversation. The user who invited him had no idea that Gascon was blocked by the OP of that post, because Gascon didn't even know he was blocked by the OP of that post. The invitation was a good faith attempt to engage and provide the OP with analysis from a user they believe has expertise in the subject at hand. Gascon screencapped the original conversation that he was invited into and probably would have never seen otherwise, in full with complete context, and gave his response (as well as notifying people that the user in question had him blocked).
Now, I'm not Gascon, but I can say with almost 100% certainty that he does not care to interact with this person beyond this encounter, and he was never going to be invested enough to actually seek this person out beyond what he'd been tagged to respond to. And I know this because Gascon has repeatedly said over the course of the last year that he's bored of 3H and has no interest in discussing it further unless specifically prompted by a third party.
You, on the other hand, have been relentlessly stalking and screencapping and harassing people for months now. You have no qualms about sending hate anyone's way, in fact you even pass blog names on to your buddies on Discord and Reddit and then brag when harassment happens. You find people on other social media sites to continue harassing them even after they've blocked you on one platform. Your blog has literally hundreds of screencaps from Nilsh and FantasyInvader and probably others that you use to whip your followers up into a frenzy. You are literally so obsessed with some users that you stalk their blog and then leave rude comments on the fics they recommend. You learn that you are blocked and you take it as a personal insult, and you do not stop harassing them until they have gotten so sick of you that they leave the platform entirely. And even then you don't stop. You still can't take Nilsh's name out of your mouth even though he's been gone for like six months. If you were a fictional character, I'd be Enemies to Lovers shipping you two by now with how obsessed with him you are. I mean really, full nine yards, 500k slowburn.
An analogy: you're basically saying a guy getting rejected by the same girl twice is the same level of harassment as a guy getting rejected by the same girl two hundred times. Like yeah, Guy #1 probably should have been better about hearing her "no" the first time and it was definitely an error in judgement to ask again. If she's upset by the interaction, I'd call him out. But good fucking lord it is not even remotely as severe as refusing to take no for an answer two hundred times. The only reason you would ever present them as equivalent is, frankly, if you are Mr. Two-Hundred and you're trying to make yourself look less creepy. You are Mr. Two-Hundred, my dude.
Also nice of you to continue insinuating that the women who call you out for your blatant harassment are all histrionic just because we don't like... *checks notes*... being stalked and harassed by some random 35 year old man on the internet over our opinions about a video game character. For your information, I'm neither screaming, crying, nor throwing up. I'm just holding you responsible for your behavior. Sorry if that upsets you, but there's a pretty simple solution to getting me to go away that you haven't tried yet. It's called leaving us the fuck alone like we've been asking you to for months. I would blissfully never talk about you ever again if you just stopped harassing people.
Not tagging you in this post because again, I don't encourage harassment. I doubt I need to tag you anyway, considering you've been stalking my blog ever since I called you out for that other little harassment situation you incited, so you'll definitely see it.
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Spooky Species I: Vampire Bats
(first row: Common vampire bat, hairy-legged vampire bat, white-winged vampire bat; second row: Desmodus draculae in a ground sloth-cave (art by Daniel Boh), Desmodus stocki feeding on pygmy mammoths (art by Hondari Nundu); third row: vampire bat feeding, skull of a common vampire bat)
It‘s Halloween season, my favorite time of the year! What better way to celebrate than with spooky animals, and few are spookier than the vampire bats.
Since they are creatures of the night, bats have been associated with vampires and other monsters of myth and folklore for about as long as those legends have existed. However, it was Dracula, the most famous of all vampires, and his transformation into a giant bat, that really popularized the connection. When real blood-drinking bats were discovered in America in the early 19th century and their blood-based diet became known to the Europeans, this of course only solidified the association between the animal and the monster and inspired new myths surrounding them (Dodd, 2019).
The real vampire bats might not be as frightening as the fictional ones (although they can carry rabies, so argueably they are even more frightening), but they are still some of the weirdest and most specialized animals out there. First of all, they are amazing in the same way that all bats amazing: Bats are the second-most diverse group of mammals with more than 1,400 species, only surpassed by rodents. They are the only mammals that have evolved powered flight. They echolocate. For their small size they have ridiculous long life spans (up to 30 years and more). What is not to love?
The thing that separates the three species of vampire bats from all other bats (and other mammals), is obviously their blood-feeding. Unlike their fictional counterparts, they don‘t actually suck blood. Instead they create a small wound with their horrifyingly shaped incisors and then lick up the blood. While they do that, a substance in their saliva keeps the blood of their victims running and the wound open. Once the bats start feeding, their kidneys have to work overtime to quickly extract as much water from the food as possible. Otherwise they would get to heavy to fly away.
Other adaptions for their lifestyle include heat sensors on their nose, that basically give the bats infrared vision and help them find the best spots to drink from on their victims, and the fact that vampire bats, especially when compared to other bats, are very agile on the ground. On a little side note: They are also known to share blood with each other: If one bat had an unsuccessful hunt, another bat in the roost might help them out by regurgitating some blood and letting them feed on it - which somehow is both adorable and absolutely disgusting at the same time.
(Common vampire bat walking, running and jumping)
As a paleontology obsessed person, my question now is of course: How the fuck did this happen? What lead to vampire bats having such a specialized lifestyle? This is not an easy questions to answer, mostly because we don‘t have a very good fossil record of bat evolution.
There are many hypothesis that could explain the transition to blood-feeding: They could have fed on insects (or other parasites), that were attracted to the wounds of bigger animals (or caused them), so the bats eventually started feeding on the bigger animal. They could have evolved from already vertebrate-hunting ancestors. They could have started out as nectar-feeders that switched to another liquid. They could have evolved from fruit-eating bats that already had weird teeth for opening fruits (Riskin, 2023).
It does not help that the family vampire bats belong to, the New World Leaf-nosed Bats, are among the most diverse among all mammals, at least in terms of feeding strategies: There are carnivores, omnivores, frugivores (fruit), nectivores (nectar), insectivores (insects), and of course sangivores, the blood-eating vampire bats. In the diagram below you can see how diverse they as a group really are (even just their skulls differ so much from each other), as well as what each bat feeds on.
(family tree of the New World leaf-nosed bats. It is believed that the first 8 branches (Macrotus-Trinycteris) had a common ancestor that look similar to Macrotus/Micronycteris and primarily ate insects and some plant material. The symbols show the main food source for the group (moth = insects; droplet = blood; opossum = vertebrates; flower = nectar; cherry = fruit). (Baker et al, 2012))
Since fossils are rare, scientists look at the species still alive today and compare their DNA with each other. By doing this they can estimate how much time would be needed for all the changes between species to occur. Basically they can look at a family tree like the one above and for each of the branches they can give you a more or less accurate time for when the split happened.
The position of vampire bats in these family trees suggests, that they most likely evolved from an insect-eating ancestor, and all the other feeding strategies evolved after they split from the rest of the group about 26 million years ago. So right now the most likely hypothesis for how blood-feeding evolved is the idea of the bats originally feeding on parasite/insects attracted to the wounds of bigger animals, then deciding to cut out the middleman and go for the bigger animal directly (Raskin 2023, Baker 2012).
Lastely, even though I didn‘t talk about fossils too much, there are some fossil vampire bats that we know of. Most famous is probably Desmodus draculae from the Pleistocene, the biggest known vampire bat ever with a wingspan of about 50 cm - named after the most famous vampire of all time.
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Can I hear more about Asexual Franky Truth?
Of course! I'll try to explain my thoughts on Franky's sexuality in general (for the record, I headcanon him as a gay aroace man), but it mostly comes down to the fact that I'm aroace and like projecting onto my favourite characters. But if you want a less boring answer, here's some more reasons I came up with:
While I'm not claiming Franky's obsession with masculinity is inherently queer, the emphasis on striving to become something of men's dreams does come across as a little gay to me.
Prior to joining the Straw Hats, Franky saw himself as a failure due to blaming himself on Tom's death. We can draw parallels between this and the asexual experience, as a common part of that is to feel like something's "wrong" with you. With how allosexual mainstream society is, these thoughts can lead to feeling alienated, which creates a desire to find a community that will accept you. Franky was able to form a found family of other outcasts, and you know what they say about LGBT people gravitating towards each other.
Franky is a proud, self-proclaimed "perversion of nature" who takes any jabs at his gender expression as compliments. Cyborg pride? Gay pride. Additionally, it's a common sentiment among aphobes that asexual people are "freaks".
We never really see Franky react to women in the same way the other Straw Hats *cough cough* mostly Sanji *cough* do. Though this could be attributed to the fact that he's one of the more mature members, he never shows any romantic or sexual desire towards people. While he does acknowledge Robin and Hancock's beauty... who wouldn't? Even Luffy is able to tell someone when they're pretty, and he's an aroace icon. There's also the scene where he rejects Lola's marriage proposal, telling her he's "too super to settle down", as well as the scene where he casually kisses Kyuin, only to agree that hearing about love from inexperienced young women makes him "sicker than a bad drink". He just doesn't care.
Considering his nipples are light switches and his pelvis is extendable, I get the feeling he doesn't have a high desire for sexual activity.
I want to see more aroace representation like Franky and Luffy, rather than just the common stereotypes we see in media.
I think it works well with me shipping him with Brook. Now I'm DEFINITELY just projecting here, but as an aroace person, I'm more attracted to fictional characters than I am real people. Especially those with more monstrous features. Not that Brook isn't a human, but obviously someone like him is impossible to exist in reality. My point is, he doesn't have a dick, and he's probably open to all kinds of kinks.
I actually have a fanfic about this concept, but it's in WIP hell. Anyway, I hope that answers your question, and thank you for giving me an excuse to talk about this!
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Hey, wanted to say I love how you’ve written about slavery in your fic! Also, sorry if this is out of left field, but as you’re a historian wanted to ask how much do you know about slavery of other ethnic groups across europe. It’s a subject I’ve been passionate about but have no on really to talk to. I’m from romania, and the racism there against romani people is very widespread, and whenever I try to call to people’s attention that they shouldn’t be, idk, racist, it never gets taken seriously. A part of me feels like the fact that slavery in the region isn’t thought about in schools from an ethnic standpoint is also to blame. Roma (and tatars but to a lesser extent) were not the only slaves, with romanians being in that group as well, and slavery didn’t start with them, but a lot were enslaved because of their background. Even the fact that it’s not clear if romani people came to wallachia and moldova on their own or were brought there through slave trade is unclear is never mentioned, which makes my bloood boil. Sorry for the random ask, but again, it’s something that I can’t discuss seriously with anybody else, and wanted to see your opinion on it.
Welp, okay. This is the kind of ask that I want to think about and carefully source before I answer, because there is obviously so much possibility for inadvertent or deliberate misinterpretation, bad-faith reading, and all the other tedious idiot gymnastics that both Tumblr and the internet at large like to engage in. So here goes.
First off, unfortunately, slavery is one of the oldest institutions in the world, and has a long record of practice in ancient and medieval history, as well as its best-known manifestation in the transatlantic African slave trade from roughly 1619-1807, as well as its continued practice in the British Empire until 1833 and in America until 1865. (1619 is when the first shipload of slaves arrived in the American colonies, the transatlantic slave trade was outlawed in Britain in 1807, the practice of slavery in the British Empire was phased out starting in 1833, and while Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, it didn't have any kind of actual effect until after the end of the Civil War in 1865). That does not even include the profound damage done by both slavery itself and its after-effects, which are obviously prominent and persistent down to this very minute, and infect social attitudes, financial circumstances, generational inequality, and all the other poisonous and permanent consequences of systemic racism. So sometimes when people try to insist that White People Were Slaves Too!, it puts my hackles up. I absolutely 100% know that's not what you mean here, and you're very rightly pointing to how complicated the idea of "whiteness," race, and inequality is in a European context, as well as an American one. But in other cases, the "white people were slaves too!" argument is used as a straw man and deliberate deflection to argue that African-Americans don't have some kind of unique experience with slavery, or that their present circumstances and disadvantages aren't impacted by their past. Which, of course, is racist bullshit and straight-up deflectionary reactionism and doesn't make any sense, but still. That is their MO.
To turn, then, to the subject of slavery in Europe, among people who would now be identified or assigned as white, and in the premodern, pre-Triangle Trade period. For all the admiring press they've gotten in recent years as a supposedly "free" or more gender-egalitarian society, the medieval Scandinavians/Vikings were prolific slave traders (possibly a reason why the dudebros love them as a supposed model of White European Masculinity) and it was a fundamental part of their economy and their world. Concubinage (aka domestic/sexual slavery) and slavery were also closely connected in the Viking world, and the slave trade peaked in the British Isles (including Ireland) between the ninth and eleventh centuries. The people who were trafficked in this trade were usually Slavs (i.e. eastern and southern peoples from the frontiers of the continent of Europe), which is, after all, literally where the word comes from (Slav --> slave). There was a possible but unclear racial element to this belief that Slavs were the best slaves, and probably based more on religion (paganism vs. Christianity) than any explicit notions of racial superiority or inferiority. They were, at least in appearance, white people sold to other white people, and the idea of them being a "different race," while it existed, again wasn't really clear or defined.
In the context of medieval Bohemia (modern Czech Republic, Slovakia, and parts of Germany), it's hard to tell how exactly "free" and "unfree" laborers were distinguished, and how much slave markets drove the local economy, which is often the case elsewhere as well. In England there were even supposedly "free" and "unfree" knights until at least the Norman Conquest, recognizing the fact that knighthood alone wasn't the prestigious social standing it later became with the development of chivalry (and raises the question of whether there were essentially "slave knights.") The whole was-serfhood-essentially-slavery debate has likewise been raging for years: serfs didn't have legal "personhood" or recognition in the court system, weren't able to leave their land without their lords' permission, weren't financially compensated for their work, etc., but most historians agree that this isn't exactly slavery as we would now define it. It was certainly unpaid bondage of a sort, but there were still systems, rules, and expectations that governed the serf's life, some amount of implicit personhood even if not in the eyes of the law, and goods and services they were entitled to receive in return for their work. None of this existed in slavery.
The slave system in medieval and early modern Iberia (Spain and Portugal) was the essential basis for what was exported to Spanish colonies in the New World, in Mexico, the Caribbean, and Latin America. So by the time both transatlantic voyages and colonial economies had expanded to such a scale that the widespread capture, transportation, and exploitation of Black Africans into bondage was practical, it was already building on a system that had existed for centuries, rather than innovating from scratch. This, I think, represents the key distinction: first, that of size, as the transatlantic trade was far larger in scale, scope, and duration than any of the localized and essentially informal slave markets of the Viking/medieval world. They did generally do it as a practice, but transatlantic trading made it a main pillar of the early modern world and the economies of the colonizing Western European countries, on a central and integral level. Next, this was when slavery began to become explicitly racialized, and a suite of theories were developed as to why black people were both inherently inferior to white people and therefore actually "benefiting" from slavery and were the natural candidates for it. I have written before about how while Irish and Scottish people were indentured laborers in the New World, their status did not equate to slavery, and they were still recognized as essentially human (if of a lesser standard than the "supreme" Englishman). They were also increasingly phased out as the Black African slave trade became the preferred option both economically and racially.
In the specific context of the Romani: as you say, it's true that at this time and through much of the late medieval/early modern period, they were automatically enslaved, and this status persisted beyond that of other comparable groups, affecting perceptions of and racism to them down to the present day. Shannon Woodcock summarizes:
Romani individuals in Romania exist in historical sources as the property of boiers (landowners), state administrators and the clergy, where they are called “Ţigani.” The first archival evidence of Roma in the Romanian principality of Wallachia is the record of 40 sălaşe (families) given to Voivod Dan I in 1385 from Vladislav I, a Serbian landowner. Until 1699 (when Transylvania came under the administration of the Hapsburg empire), all Roma who entered the Romanian principalities of Transylvania, Wallachia or Moldova were captured and made slaves of the state; and after 1699 this practice continued in Wallachia and Moldova and was modified somewhat in Transylvania. The state could retain slaves for their own use, or sell them to boiers or monasteries. Slaves were called sclavi, robi, or Ţigani. Other ethnic groups were also slaves, such as a small percentage of Tartars, but these groups were freed by the end of the 15th century, and only Roma remained slaves. The term Ţigan came to conflate the legal and social position of slaves with ethnic Roma. To be a slave was to be considered an ethnic Ţigan. There was no such thing as a free Ţigan, or a free Rom. Romanians did not recognize or interpellate Roma as anything other than Ţigani, sclavi and robi.
Because Romani people still suffer the effects of this system, and are subject to modern-day prejudice resulting from this generational inequality and discrimination, yes, it's fair to say that they experience the aftereffects of slavery similar to African-Americans. Your average white man claiming that his distant ancestors were enslaved (such as they very well might have been in the Viking markets) does not suffer in any way from this. Nobody is going to treat him differently (aside from maybe avoid him at parties because he's a blustering racist). That ancestral experience does not affect him now, and his racial status is not conflicted or perceived as inferior in any way. Nobody is still going to treat him as Lesser because he's Irish-American (no matter what he thinks or likes to say), and he and his ancestors have never been subject to an all-consuming world order and economic system that prescribed their automatic inferiority and their essential dehumanization for centuries, and which is still largely unchallenged today, despite some superficial disruptions and reforms. Just because white people have been subject to slavery in history does not make their experience equivalent to the entire world order of white supremacy that has been systematically implanted into global power systems, and still exists to this day. A black person, however, is still automatically subject to that legacy and its discrimination whether they like it or not, and they have no choice of opting out.
As such, because Romani are not "white" in the European hierarchy of race and racial relations, even if they might be considered as such by superficial American analyses, they suffer that same sort of inherited generational discrimination just by nature of who they are as a class. This is the case especially with Eastern Europeans in general, who have long been seen as not being quite as "good" or "pure" as Western Europeans, reflects those old religious fault lines (they were pagan or Orthodox Christian or Muslim or etc., while the Westerners were Latin Catholics), and makes European racism a far more complicated matter than who simply "looks" white to outward eyes. The Romani cannot "opt out" of their background and the inherent prejudice that comes with it, in the same way that African-Americans can't "opt out" of theirs (while as noted, it makes absolutely no difference at all to your average white person what their ancestors were and whether or not they were enslaved, because they benefit from the operation of white supremacy as a power structure and overall system of perception). As such, a black or Romani person has no choice but to be black or Romani, and they can't have the luxury of deciding whether or not they're going to care about what those labels signify to the rest of the world. It just happens to them anyway.
In sum: thanks for the ask, and hopefully this was helpful as a discussion for you. It was certainly interesting for me. :)
#anonymous#ask#history#medieval history#history of slavery#history of racism#cw slavery#cw white supremacy#long post
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