#but also consider that I have about one brain cell left to write with and posting everything as soon as I write it sparks joy???
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Anything You Like (the Jaylos-but-also-polyamory part)
More of my Soulmate AU! This section got wildly out of hand. Like, almost a third of my WIP-document out of hand. Loosely based on the Isle of the Lost book canon, so warning for bullying and terrible parenting.
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"Get back here!" Jay shouts desperately at the kid disappearing as fast as his skinny legs can carry him, around the corner of the market street and deep into the maze of stalls. "I'm not--"
Not what, his rational, thinking brain offers. Not going to hurt him?
That's a stupid thought. Life on the island is all about hurting people.
Jay hurts people for fun, and for class, and just because there are people in his way and he's finally starting to be one of the bigger, stronger kids who can get away with hurting other people instead of being the one who's hurt all the time. He's done his time as a little kid, and it feels... better to be the one in control, instead of the one who's always running and hiding and trying to avoid the people who want to hurt him. It's not like Jay can really run from his problems, not when they're all stuck on the same shitty island together with adults who want to leave him bleeding or dead or worse, but now that he's bigger, he can start fighting them instead of trying to run all the time.
His soulmate isn't very big yet. Probably not big enough or strong enough to fight off an adult.
Jay is not nice, and he is not kind, and he lives on the Isle of the Lost, so he doesn't, can't, care about other people like he cares about himself. He's not anybody else's top priority, so he's got to be his own number one.
He's already got two soulmates to deal with, and a third one, especially a fast little third one who bites and squirms and has a knife and no sense of when he should use it shouldn't be something Jay is thinking about. He should make the smart choice, and swipe a new pair of gloves to cover the mark, and never think about it again.
Yeah. That would be the smart thing to do.
Conceal it, don't feel it, don't let it show. That's what they do on the mainland when they've got inconvenient feelings, and that's what Jay should do about this new soulmark and the inconvenient, annoying soulmate who comes with it. He should put it somewhere under his gloves, in the back of his mind, and never think about it again.
He’s not going to, but it’s what he should do. Objectively speaking. It’s probably what Mal would tell him to do too, if she knew about this new soulmate.
Jay should tell her. They’re each other’s first real marks. It’s not supposed to mean something on the isle of the lost, but it sometimes does anyway. They’re a villain-and-sidekick duo. Or, on their bad days, sidekick and sidekick. Sometimes everything goes wrong, and neither of them is feeling up to claiming responsibility for a scheme gone sideways, so they call themselves both sidekicks, trying to prop each other up without a proper villain to work around. Two useless lackeys with only each other to command.
A pebble bounces off Jay’s head.
Shit. If he were less lucky, the rock could have been a bottle, or a knife, or—
“Dude!” His soulmate shouts from the rooftop of the shitty cauldron store. The very easily accessible roof of the shitty cauldron store. “Are you coming up or not?”
Right.
One jump over the stack of third-rate cauldrons, and it’s an easy grab for the crumbling ladder on the side of the building. The momentum makes the ladder creak, but Jay’s been doing this for ages, and he’s not heavy enough to pull it out of the brick yet. He can’t quite get the leverage to do something cool, like backflip up onto the roof, but he can pull with his arms instead of his core, which is stupid and going to hurt later, but it makes his biceps pop.
His soulmate probably doesn’t care what his arms look like. He’s probably some sad nerd who’s never looked at a guy in his life, and it’s just a coincidence that they’re marked for each other. Probably. Anything else would be almost good, and if there’s one kind of thing that never happens on the isle, it’s goodness.
So, coincidence it is.
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Jay's new soulmate glares at him. "You wanted to talk?"
It’s probably not the best choice, seeing as the only reason they’re here is because Jay’s soulmate let him catch up, but it’s too fun to mess with him. “You don't?" Jay asks, keeping his face neutral. No point in giving anything away yet. He’s not above having fun with this. “Thought you’d want to get to know each other a bit. Seeing as we’re soulmates and all.”
The kid glares back at him. Jay knows everyone at school, and he knows perfectly well who Carlos DeVil is, but they’ve never actually talked outside of school before.
Actually, they’ve never really talked in school either. Sure, they’ve traded insults in the hall, and done their fair share of shouting at each other in class when Jay gets bored and starts throwing things into their weird science beaker, but they’ve never just…. talked.
It’s weird, actually.
Carlos folds his arms, defensive-like. "Nothing to talk about. We're soulmarked, yay.” he rolls his eyes, somehow turning the ‘yay’ into the most sarcastic noise the isle’s seen in the last eighteen years. “You're still going to beat me up at school. I'm still gonna--"
He stops, abruptly.
"Gonna what?" Jay asks, fascinated despite himself. "Don't just stop there, man. What're you going to do now?"
Carlos glares harder. "Nothing. Shut up."
Jay is absolutely not going to do that. He's got another soulmate, and he's a fucking nerd, and he was definitely going to say something interesting. "Nope," Jay says cheerfully. His soulmate might be grumpy and nervous right now, but Jay's having a great time now that they're actually talking. "We're soulmarked now, so you've got to tell me. That's the rules."
"We're on the isle. We don't have rules."
"The cosmic rules of the universe. Soulmarks are like the one kind of magic we have over here, dude. Don't ruin the magic for me by saying you don't know the rules."
Carlos looks pissed. "There aren't rules!"
"Nu-uh,” Jay says, letting his voice fall into something light and almost singsong. “There totally are. The rules are that you have to tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that you're a jerk." Carlos snaps. “And this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and you should’ve just bought better gloves and never fucking touched me in the first place.”
"Cool.” Jay says brightly. He’s never had someone tell him when they’re thinking honestly before, and it’s sort of intoxicating. He could get used to his kind of thing. “I'm thinking that we should stick together. I'll introduce you to Mal tomorrow, if that's cool?"
"I know who Mal is. Everyone at school knows Mal."
“Nah,” Jay says, not even bothering to hide his smile. He’s definitely going to introduce Carlos to Mal tomorrow, and they’re going to get along like a house on fire, because they’re both assholes. “You know about Mal. You don't know her. Nobody else really knows her, not like me. And you, cause I'm going to introduce you."
"What if I don't want that?"
He obviously does want it. Nobody at school except for an idiot would turn down an invite to get out of Mal’s bad graces, and Carlos isn’t an idiot. Jay wouldn’t have spent the last sixteen years taking stuff out of his locker if he were dumb, and it’s gonna be great.
"Too bad. I'm introducing you two anyway.” Jay says cheerfully. Having a new soulmate is fun. Having two soulmates has been great for him so far, and it’s going to be even better once they get to know each other too. “Hey, maybe cause we share a mark, you’ll share one with Mal too!”
Carlos mumbles something mostly-inaudible. Jay can’t be sure, but it sounded suspiciously unlike the words “I’m so excited to meet your other soulmate” and a lot more like “if there’s two of them I’m going to fucking kill myself.”
So. That’s a little worrying.
Honesty seems to be the way to go. At least when he’s with Mal, honest questions about the gaps in their plan usually lead to less stabbing of their essential body parts, and more of them stabbing the other guys. So there’s that, and also the refreshingly honest answer he got out of his new soulmate last time, soo….
"What?” Jay asks. He’s still trying to keep his expression normal, but it’s hard to focus on that when there’s so many other things to worry about. Like how he’s going to explain to Mal that they’ve got a new gang member, and how he’s going to drag the two of them into the same space long enough to like each other. Maybe he should treat them both like the feral cats that he caught for his cousin, and lock them in rooms next to each other for a while so they can both shout at him until they get tired and decide it’s better to ally together.
Carlos sighs. It’s almost like Jay’s starting to wear down some of his prickly edges already. "I said, I don't want to get to know Mal. You two have been tormenting me since kindergarten. Nothing is going to change just because you have a mark on your hand."
Jay taps the new mark with his fingertips before he even realizes he’s doing it. It’s technically on his wrist, not his hand, but it’s going to be hard to hide either way. "You've got one too."
"Yeah, and my mother is going to try and cut it out of me as soon as she finds out,” Carlos says. He’s not glaring anymore, which would be cool if his face hadn’t gone totally blank instead. Like a mask, or like the thing that Evie, the pretty new girl that Mal’s been obsessed with since she showed up to school does with her face when she’s not thinking about it. “It'd be cool if you would stop fucking up all my shit at school, but I don't actually expect you to like, change or anything. We don't have to be anything because of this."
Ouch. "We don't fuck with that much of your shit."
"You soulmarked me by accident because you were trying to shove my head in a toilet," Carlos says, patiently. He's standing just out of arm's reach, with his back to the open rooftop. They're within easy sprinting distance to three other houses with low roofs, and Jay can count a handful of small, open windows that Carlos could probably dive through without issue, but are small enough that Jay, with his wider shoulders, would have to slow down and slip through more carefully. "I don't think you'd be able to stop fucking up my shit if you tried."
"Hey!"
"Just being honest. And hey, if you want to try, be my guest. I'd love to actually keep some of the shit I make for myself."
There’s a weight in Jay’s pocket that feels a lot like a handmade crossbow pen. And another one in his boot that might be a handful of tiny button batteries, and okay, maybe a third weight shoved in the secret pocket in the back of his vest that’s stuffed full of the wire contraption that he snagged without thinking right after his hand slipped and the soulmark showed up.
It’s not something he’s gonna keep doing now, obviously.
"We do take a lot of your shit, huh.” Jay admits. “I uh, I have some of your stuff. If you want it back.”
Carlos’s face is still blank. "Yeah. I know. And I also know that Auradon psychology textbooks say it's because nobody loves you at home, but it'd be really cool if you could stop taking it out on me."
Ouch. That one lands, and Jay has to work to keep his face blank over the instinctive spike of hurt that wells up in the dark depths of his chest. He's not exactly his dad's favorite person, but there's the other two girls who work in the shop sometimes, and they're friendly enough. Someone to help clean the dust off the junk and swap jokes with while they're handing over their weekly cut of the earnings is almost like having a friend, and Delphine even sticks around to flirt sometimes after her shift ends.
Delphine is nearly thirty, and keeps more knives on her person than Jay's ever managed to slip out of her pockets. She's also sort of scary if he tries to slip out before she's done talking with him, but she pays attention to his new bruises, and she once brought him a cup of stew from the spicier stall two streets down, and didn't even spit in it first. So she's basically the closest thing he's got to a friend at home.
"Mal takes her temper out on everyone," Jay points out, instead of defending his home life. It's the Isle of the Lost. They're all stuck here together with the same shitty parents, and explaining that he's got one person who usually doesn't throw anything at him on the way out the door isn't exactly a resounding defense. "I don't think I could stop her if I tried."
Carlos rolls his eyes. Now that Jay's looking, there's a ring of old bruises around his left eye. "I know. The whole school knows. It wasn't this bad last year, but ever since you two got dumped by Uma's pirate crew, or whatever–"
"We broke it off with them."
"Or whatever,” Carlos repeats, rolling his eyes again. “It's not like it makes a difference what actually happened. She's been kind of a raging bitch since then."
Jay lifts an eyebrow, partially at the language choice, and partially because he’s sort of being thrown for a loop here. Everyone wants to meet Mal, and he’s not really sure if he’s got anything to offer outside of his connection with her.
“Yeah, well,” he tries. “I bet if she had another soulmate, she’d probably be a lot less…”
“Bitchy?”
“I was gonna say irritable. Look, we lost half our crew when we dumped Uma’s gang–”
“When they dumped you,” Carlos whispers.
Jay shoots him a look. “Whatever. When we broke up, we lost a lot of our crew. And it’s not like we’re having trouble keeping things under control on our own, but we wouldn’t turn down company, if you’re interested. We have a hideout and everything. You could come and stay the night, if you want. Just to try it out.”
There’s a flicker of interest in his soulmate’s face.
“I guess,” Carlos says slowly. “If you’re offering, it would be not the worst thing to get out of my mom’s house for a night.”
Bingo.
“We’re offering.” Jay says, before he can think twice about the offer. He’ll lock Mal in their storage room, keep her out of the way until he’s got his new soulmate acclimated to the place. “Come on, if we go now we can make it home before Mal gets there, and you can give her the scare of her fuckin’ life.”
There’s a tiny hint of what might be a smile on Carlos’s face. “Sounds fun.”
It’s a risk, but they’re doing so well now that he can’t resist.
Jay holds out a hand. “Come on. Let me show you the way.”
Carlos takes it. “Lead on, I guess.”
#my fic#descendants#disney descendants#descendants fic#carlos de vil#jay son of jafar#I've been having too much fun with this and I know that I have to stop posting everything to tumblr in scraps#but also consider that I have about one brain cell left to write with and posting everything as soon as I write it sparks joy???
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I've written something very silly. Dating apps, texting fic, crack, smut. desire messing with dream. onlyfans creator hob. trans dream. Enjoy.
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U up?
The notification from an unfamiliar app stared up at Dream from his locked phone screen. He frowned, perplexed. Nobody texted him. Certainly not with such vernacular.
Dream opened the notification. It pulled up the messaging page of a dating app, one he himself had certainly not installed—
Desire. He grit his teeth. Unfortunately, they weren’t nearby to receive his ire.
Dream looked again at U up? on the message interface. He clicked on the profile of the man who’d sent it, a “Kyle” who would not have looked out of place shotgunning a beer at a rager. Of course, Desire had not only gone to great lengths to establish him on this insipid app, but had also spent time matching him with the exact opposite of his type, presumably to cause him never-ending grief and annoyance. As usual.
Dream should probably have just deleted the app. Instead he responded, For?
What he received in response, a few minutes later, was a poorly-lit photograph of Kyle’s penis. Dream pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger with a sigh. He should have known.
I have seen better, he replied, and closed out of the app.
He had been back at his writing for ten minutes or so when his phone buzzed again. He checked the notification.
Brad: you could be MY good boy, kitty cat 😽
Dream gagged, but opened the man’s profile out of perilous, morbid curiosity.
Brad, 28, Hedge Fund Manager, “Looking for something casual on the DL”, likes golf and cryptocurrency— oh, dear. Somehow, Dream doubted this Brad truly wanted Dream to become a part of his life. Nor did Dream want to be his ‘kitty cat’.
He was going to have words with Desire.
You strike me as a man who brings choking into the bedroom without knowing what a safe word is, he wrote. Am I accurate?
I can choke you if you want, baby 😜, wrote Brad. Which may as well have been a yes.
Dream did not think that Brad was the person he wanted that from. Not to mention that his utter lack of kink safety knowledge would probably land Dream in hospital, and there were more interesting ways for that to happen than mediocre sex in a finance associate’s penthouse.
I would prefer to keep my brain cells, he wrote, and closed the app.
Over the next few days, Dream fielded many strange, annoying, and obscene messages from people on this app. He certainly had not “swiped right” on anybody himself, so he could only assumed Desire had done so on his behalf and had now left him to suffer the consequences of “matching.” By all rights, he should have just deleted the app off his phone. But Dream rarely communicated with anyone, certainly not strangers, and there was something a little bit entertaining about seeing what kind of drivel was being thrown his way. Was this how people attempted to court over the internet? Or perhaps Desire had merely “matched” him with the dregs of humanity.
By the end of the week, Dream had received seven “dick pics”, four offers to share one or more of his body parts in exchange for cash, and a request to become a seventy-five year-old man’s “sugar baby.” He was uncertain precisely what that entailed, but he was fairly certain he would not like it.
He had also received a text from Desire that read, enjoying yourself? ;) to which he did not respond.
His meager entertainment expended, Dream was on the verge of finally deleting the app when he received a different message:
Hob: Do you think it’s possible to cheat death by force of will, or are you too busy craving its sweet release to consider it?
Dream frowned, perplexed by the specificity of the message. Finally it occurred to him to actually look at the profile Desire had made. He swiped over to said screen, and sighed in aggravation.
Desire had, at least, chosen flattering photos of him. He supposed if the goal was to have Dream sexually harassed over the internet, this would have been a requirement. The photos definitely suggested something other than “serious, committed relationship”, but they weren’t terrible, at least.
As for the text—well, Dream finally understood where some of the more unhinged messages he had received had come from. He read through the given prompts, and Desire’s answers to them:
Dating me is like: You found a stray cat and brought it home and fed it and you were going to take it to the animal shelter but now it won't leave. It’s pretty cute if a bit mangy but it won’t stop biting your hand and mewing pathetically. The sex is pretty good tho.
“Pretty good.” Desire had written all this and couldn’t even manage to make Dream sound like a satisfying hookup. Typical.
He read on:
I’ll fall for you if: You tell me I’m a good boy 😳
Things were falling into place in Dream’s mind now.
Hob’s strange message seemed to arise from the main part of Dream’s profile, where Desire had listed his “religion” as “worshipping l’appel du vide.” An interesting element for this “Hob” to focus on. Dream did not think it was typical for messages on these apps to open with a discussion of death.
He switched back over to the messaging page of the app, and replied: I consider death often. As to your query, it depends: are you thinking of death as an entity one could escape, or a force like gravity? Or perhaps a place one must go?
Hmm, Hob responded, good question. I think it’s like a state. But a state of nothingness. See, if I thought it was a *place*, might be willing to go, see something new and all. But what’s the point of nothingness?
Nothingness is its own satisfaction, wrote Dream. It seemed peaceful, to him. Quiet. The lack of need for satisfaction in the first place.
But you won’t be there, so you won’t get to experience it, said Hob.
Precisely.
Huh. The void really is calling to you. You don’t like experience, then?
Is that innuendo? Dream asked.
Could be. If it is, do I get to be part of the toxic codependent relationship that ends horribly for everyone?
Another reference to Desire’s profile choices. What Dream was apparently “looking for in a relationship.”
That depends on the quality of your experience, he wrote.
I’ve received good reviews, said Hob.
You’ve yet to call me “kitten,” so I suppose I must concur on that front, replied Dream.
You started that one, little stray cat, said Hob.
Technically Desire had started it, but Dream had to grudgingly admit that his profile did invite such comments.
Having a smashing time in your dm’s, then? Hob continued.
I have received several unsolicited pictures of genitalia, wrote Dream.
Oh yeah? said Hob. Anything good?
Random strangers’ genitals did not interest Dream. There was a reason he did not watch porn. Mediocre at best, Dream said.
There was a long pause, and Dream hastily added, Do not send me a picture of your dick as comparison.
My dick is already all over the internet, you don’t need to get it here 😛, said Hob.
Dream blinked several times at his phone screen, as if to clear away a fog before a message that might make more sense.
What, he wrote.
Before Hob could reply, it occurred to Dream that perhaps he should actually look at Hob’s own profile. He had gotten too caught up in the strange conversation to remember to do so.
He opened it and— froze.
Dream had already deduced that Desire had intentionally matched him with whoever they thought Dream would be least interested in. He could see why they had thought the same of Hob, primarily because he was very different from Dream. In the past, Dream had tended to have flings with people who were rather like him, in some respects. “Tortured artists,” Death would say.
This was not Hob. For one, unlike Dream’s pouty and morose profile photo, Hob was actually smiling in the first picture on his page. And what a smile.
He was handsome, too. At least, Dream thought so. Handsome in a homey, comfortable way, the type of handsome that suggested really good hugs, and coffee in the mornings, and someone to come home to. Dream scrolled through more photos, and caught the spark of mischief in his eyes that belied his easy nature. This best matched the way Hob spoke in his messages, he thought.
It was not so much that Hob was his usual type, and more that Desire had unintentionally uncovered a type Dream had not known he had. He swallowed hard. Scrolled back up to read the details of Hob’s bio, in search of answers to the strangeness of Hob’s response.
Ah. His profession was listed as “OnlyFans creator.” That would explain it. He supposed he could track down Hob’s profile on said app. Dream was historically not very interested in porn, however. But he was finding himself interested in Hob.
He moved back to the messaging page, and wrote, before Hob could question why Dream was confused about information that was clearly stated in his profile, Ah. I see. I’m afraid I don’t watch porn.
That a moral stance? Bcuz I get enough of that already, trust me.
Personal taste, said Dream.
Prefer to get it in person, eh? said Hob.
Yes.
You’d do numbers on OnlyFans just fyi, Hob wrote. If u ever wanted more cash. Or does Poetry & Malaise pay better than I thought?
Dream’s “career,” according to Desire.
He supposed Hob's comment was flattering, in a way. Is that your own bias, Hob? Or your considered opinion as a professional?
Both ;), said Hob.
If that is your situation, then why are you on this app, dare I ask? Most people I have encountered seem to just be interested in sex but I doubt you are suffering from a dearth of it.
What, porn stars can’t want to get married? :(
Dream could imagine his pout. It was surprisingly endearing.
THAT is why you are here?
Sure, be judgmental about it, mister “I want to get consumed.” Or was that about vore and I misread it as metaphorical?
Dream spluttered, though Hob was not physically present to see it. Indeed, Desire had written that Dream wanted “someone he could consume and be consumed by in turn,” which was surprisingly accurate considering its intention had been to mess with him.
It is not VORE, he wrote. Then followed it up with, I have frequently been accused of being intense, possessive, and overbearing.
Well then we have that in common, Hob replied. By the way, sex for work is not the same as sex with someone you really care about. Or would you feel emotionally fulfilled after fucking your colleagues?
I don’t have colleagues, said Dream.
Right, right. Poetry and malaise.
And have you achieved much emotionally fulfilling sex from this app?
No :(, said Hob.
You are too handsome for that to be the case, wrote Dream, and realized what he had said a moment after he’d hit send.
He panicked internally until Hob replied, And here I thought I was just annoying you 🥰.
I might be having a crisis over your photos myself, Hob added, but let’s not discuss it or I’ll embarrass myself.
We could discuss it in a different venue, Dream wrote, heart in his throat. I am interested also in hearing your plans to thwart death. Perhaps over drinks?
Thought you’d never ask :)
So they set a time.
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Drinks turned quickly into tumbling into Hob’s flat turned quickly into Hob pushing Dream up against the door and kissing him senseless turned quickly into falling into Hob’s bed. Dream was feeling quite happy about his decision to go on a date with this weird, death-obsessed OnlyFans creator. He had been right about Hob giving good hugs, he had learned that when Hob had greeted him at the bar. He had also learned that Hob really knew how to use his tongue.
“Fuck, Dream,” Hob said, looking up at him, lips wet. He had his hands wrapped around Dream’s thighs and his face between Dream’s legs, and yes, Dream was feeling very satisfied with his decision, indeed. He might even have to send Desire a gift basket. “You taste so good.”
“Your mouth is ungodly,” said Dream, tipping his head back against the pillow with a groan as Hob continued teasing him with that mouth, swiping his tongue through Dream’s folds and sucking on his clit.
“Converted you to a new religion? You’re done with the void, then?”
Dream twisted his hands in Hob’s hair, holding on tight, thighs trembling, heartbeat racing in his throat. “Perhaps.”
“Is Dream your real name, by the way?” Hob asked, pushing one finger into Dream, and then quickly two, as Dream moaned and clenched down on him. “I kind of thought it was fake.”
“No,” said Dream, though it came out as another moan. “It is real.”
“Fascinating.” And he went back to torturing Dream with his mouth, fucking him deep on his fingers, until Dream was squirming and writhing under him, trying to get away from Hob’s relentlessness even as he wanted to throw himself into its fire. He felt hot, feverish, taut all over, Hob’s hands were so good, and his mouth—
“Hob,” he whined, “please.”
Hob paused, looked up at him, lips and nose wet with Dream’s fluids. Then grinned cheekily. “Yes, kitten?”
And why did something that had sounded so revolting coming from anonymous strangers only make Dream laugh when Hob said it? He laughed, a horrible, choking laugh, and Hob laughed too, incredulously. Dream could not remember ever laughing during sex, it had always been a torrid and serious affair. But Hob was so charming and handsome and Dream wanted to kiss him.
“Come,” he commanded, drawing Hob up towards him by his hair, and Hob went, and Dream brought their lips together. Hob’s mouth was slick and tasted of Dream. It was heady.
Dream wrapped a leg around his waist and pulled him closer until their bodies were pressed together, and Hob ground his cock between Dream’s legs, between his folds and against his clit. He didn’t try to actually fuck Dream, though, which Dream figured was Hob’s professional good sense considering they hadn’t discussed birth control or anything in that vein in their haste. He imagined what might have happened if he had instead gone home with Brad of the un-negotiated choking kink, and laughed despite himself.
“What are you laughing at?” asked Hob, lifting his head to look at him. He really was so appealing, with his dark eyes, hair falling long over his forehead, his voice that was much more honey-warm than Dream could have imagined over text.
“I was thinking of the catastrophe that would have resulted had I slept with one of the questionable individuals I’ve encountered on that app, and my good fortune in finding you instead.”
Hob smiled, and kissed him, a proper first date type kiss, sweet and kind. Then he said, dragging his hand through Dream’s hair, tugging on it, “Don’t think about anyone else.” He kissed Dream’s jaw, then down his neck, nipping at his skin.
Dream dug his nails into Hob’s back, into his strong shoulders as Hob ground against him. He wished Hob was fucking him. His cock felt so good even just moving between Dream’s legs, and the weight of his body over Dream’s was so grounding. Next time, maybe.
He shivered as Hob moved faster over him, claimed his mouth with a hard kiss. “Come on me,” Dream urged, pulling Hob in tighter again with his leg wrapped around his waist. He reached between them and got his hand around Hob, and Hob groaned.
“Dream—”
Dream pulled him off in time with Hob’s own thrusts, and soon felt Hob’s hips stuttering, his grip tightening in Dream’s hair. He came over Dream’s hand and stomach, breathing hard against Dream’s throat. But he didn’t pause very long to recover himself, instead slipping three fingers back into Dream, making Dream arch against him with a shout.
“Hob!”
Hob worked him mercilessly until Dream was clenching around him with a gasp, body shaking as his orgasm ramped back up and hit him, fast and hard. Hob grinned against his throat as Dream panted, then gently pulled his fingers free and raised his head to look Dream in the eye as he brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean of Dream’s spend. Fucking. Hell. And this man couldn’t find someone to marry him?
Hob kissed him again, and again it was sweet, and firm, like his hugs. Dream kissed him back, petting Hob’s hair. Pleased with the position he’d found himself in. Pleased with Hob.
“Good?” Hob asked, stroking a hand up and down his side.
“Very,” Dream sighed.
“Good,” said Hob. “For me, too.”
He kissed Dream’s cheek, and then went and got a soft wet cloth to clean them both up, and even brought Dream a glass of water. Truly Dream’s good fortune was unparalleled on this day.
Hob slipped back into bed beside him, and Dream laid on his side, head pillowed on his arm, gazing at him. Tucked an errant strand of Hob’s hair behind his ear. Ran his fingers over the stubble on Hob’s cheek. He really was quite handsome, especially mussed from sex, in the low bedroom light. Perhaps Dream was going to have to find his OnlyFans. Just so he could… take this home with him.
“You really are even prettier in person,” Hob murmured, studying him. “Although I don’t think the rest of your profile was really doing you justice.”
“That is because my sibling initially created it to annoy me,” Dream admitted. “However, I think I am the one who’s come out on top in the end.”
“That does explain some things,” Hob said with a chuckle. He took Dream’s hand and kissed his fingertips, met his eyes again. “I promise I won’t break your heart. If you stay.”
My BFF’s take on why you should date me, Desire’s profile fills had read: With luck you can be the next person to break his heart <3
Once again, it had not been entirely inaccurate. But perhaps it would be this time.
“I think I am inclined to,” he said quietly, and Hob smiled, that warm, endearing smile.
So Dream did stay that night, cuddled up in Hob’s arms. Feeling all warm inside, even when Hob had fallen asleep, and Dream was still awake, lying beside him. He often had a hard time sleeping, but he didn’t mind so much, right now. Hob was pleasant to cuddle up to, even if Dream couldn’t sleep. Hob was pleasant all around, in fact. Dream tended to fall fast and hard and he could already feel it hovering over him like a cresting wave. Fortunately, Hob didn’t seem inclined to be any more casual about him than Dream was feeling about him.
Dream thought he could get used to this.
With Hob’s arm still wrapped around his waist, Dream swiped his phone off the nightstand and opened his text thread with Desire, which still had enjoying yourself? ;) as the last message, as yet not responded to.
Having made Desire wait for several days already, Dream wrote, with a little smile, I think I am going to get married, and turned off his phone.
#yes i did create a fake hinge account mockup for dream. i will share it in a bit XD it's very silly. it took me 3 hours in photoshop#dreamling#hob gadling#dream of the endless#my writing#nsft
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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!
day 14: sensory deprivation with diluc from genshin impact
warnings: sensory deprivation, blindfold, bondage, mouth gag, handjob, orgasm denial
notes: first time writing abt diluc in smexy way lessgooooo
diluc was never one to get kinky in the bedroom. if anything, your lover preferred soft and slow sex — lazy sex, if you will — with a few bondages or blindfolds thrown in here and there. when had one too many drinks and playing “spill your guts” with kaeya and rosaria, they made a bet in front of you that you can’t ever get diluc to do more than just that.
and what did your drunk ass do? accept the bet of course.
it was a but confusing at first. despite saying that you wanted to take your bedroom experiences with your fiance to the next level, you… also lacked in knowledge of kinks and bdsm. which led you to borrow a book about it from lisa’s library. to which, the ever so smug witch teased you at.
flipping through the guide for kinks book, you came across many things. ones that seemed vanilla and could work to you two. ones that made you cringe. ones that made you literally shut the book, place it down and walk in circles around the room because why would anyone be into being fucked when threatened? aka, fear kink.
to say that the rest of what little innocence you had left had flew out the window would be an understatement.
but after losing so many brain cells and sacrificing your shreds of sanity, you came to a conclusion. ‘sensory deprivation’ — a kink in which you take away your partner’s senses for a moment to heighten their pleasure. sounds simple, sweet and pleasurable. considering diluc was already into bondage, it could work.
now what remained was on how to bring it up to him…
yes, you also lost a lot of brain cells trying to come up with a way to bring up the kink to him. just saying it on a peaceful dinner or lunch would be awkward. during cuddling is basically impossible since your overworked fiance drops dead the moment he feels the warmth of your embrace.
good thing your forgetful self left the book on your nightstand to which your sharp lover had found. just reading the title written on the hardcover book was enough to make the young lord cough and hide the flush of his cheeks. you were not the one to bring up the topic first. your lover, who’s face was burning hotter and hotter by the second, was.
by the time you two finally managed to come to an agreement that yes, you two will try sensory deprivation, the room was already significantly warmer than it was before. a result of your fiance’s vision.
hands tied behind his back, a ball gag placed securely in his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. in a way, diluc was glad for the blindfold. if he were to ever take a glance of himself in such a compromising position or to meet your eyes, he was sure that he might set something on fire. literally.
he could hear you shuffling around the room. his other senses being temporarily restricted caused his hearing to be more hyper than before. every little breathe, shuffle of the sheets, he heard them all. and it caused his heart to beat faster in his chest, excited, nervous and most definitely aroused judging by his cock standing hard and weeping pre.
the gentle hug with your chest to his back catches him by surprise, jolting slightly in place with a muffled grunt.
“sorry. did i scare you?” you ask, peppering kisses on the freckles littered on his shoulder. he shakes his head ‘no’, wanting to assure you with his words but forgetting the ball gag in his mouth. so, he simply settles on nodding or shaking his head instead.
“can i touch you ‘luc? do you mind?” you ask again, nails grazing against his naval slowly. although you may not have intended it, diluc felt teased by your hand ghosting over his member but never touching it. the red head nods, soft and curly hair locks draping over his back. how he always manages to look so beautiful so effortlessly makes you jealous sometimes.
placing soft kisses on his neck, whispering praises of how he was such a sweet and considerate lover for agreeing to try this new thing together, sweet nothings about how you were the luckiest person on earth for having such a wonderful man for a fiance, you slowly rub his pre over his tip. he was already breathing hard and you hadn’t even started yet.
“mmngh—!” a sharp whine and a startled sound comes from diluc when the cold lube dribbled on his cock, hips twitching in a sharp motion that made him seem like he wanted to get away. but he eventually calmed down and relaxed back into you when you soothed him with more sweet nothings, spreading the lube over his cock gently.
archons, has your hand always felt this good or was it him being pent up? he could no longer focus on your words but only on your hand. your hand that’s wrapped around his member, pumping him slowly. ever so often, your thumb would pay a little bit of extra attention to his tip or the sensitive underside of the tip. each time, without fail, diluc’s muffled moans would get a bit louder.
not so long after, he was completely relaxed in your arms. leaning his back against your chest, spreading his legs open just a little bit more for you each time your hand would slow down. muffled moans and words coming from behind his ball gag, he could feel the tightening in his stomach the more your thumb massaged that one spot under his tip. he was so deeply lost in the feeling, in your hand, in your scent, in your presence that he was desperately trying to fuck himself into your closed fist.
maybe that’s why you wanted to be just a little bit mean to him. the more erratic his hips moved, the more his legs tried to close around your hand before remembering his place and opening his legs wider, the more debauched his sounds got, you knew he was close to coming. and when the damn nearly burst and he could enjoy the blissful feeling of his orgasm washing over himself, you let go of his cock. making the hardened member hit his stomach softly.
“mmngh! unngh!! ghuuck!” the red head lets out a loud, shrill sounding whines. hips twitching in place to try and chase after your hand, chase after that blinding feeling of finally coming on your hand. that feeling that fills his heart and stomach with a fuzzy warm feeling as you coo soft praises into his ear.
in response, you only chuckled softly, placing your hands on the inside of his flexing thighs. that only worsened his whining.
“not yet, honey. i wanna delay it just a little bit, okay?” you coo, hands massaging his inner thighs, naval and around his leaking pitiful cock but never touching it. all he could hope for was for you to be kind on him.
and yes, you definitely won that bet.
#nobu.writes#sub genshin#sub genshin impact#sub!genshin#sub!genshin impact#sub diluc#sub!diluc#sub character#sub!character#genshin impact x reader smut#genshin impact smut#diluc x reader smut#diluc smut#dom gn reader#x dom reader#dom reader#dom!reader#gender neutral reader#nobu’s kinktober 2023
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Hiii i wanted to ask If you want to make a Part 3 to the Alien Thing (SoapGhostRoach)
maybe Roach or Soap find out that Ghost is in his mateing phase and want to see what that does to him?
Or maybe Roach still needs more infos so He takes... a closer look at Soap and Ghost?
Yeah I can write another part for it
Part 1 Part 2
Soap had been thinking recently. On his planet, interspecies relationships (from his own planet, not others) were fine as long as they weren't serious. His planet was an anomaly in that no predator species really thrived so most species looked a lot like him with only very small differences. None had managed to get sentience at the very least. It was part of what made his new... partners so exotic he supposed. Nothing like it from where he was from.
Sex was treated differently as well. It was common to have casual sex since interbreeding was impossible. He had long since understood that with Roach, monogamy was more serious. Though harems occasionally existed throughout their history, it did not seem the natural state of them, as they paired up more often than not. There were so many rules to their courting. Dates, something called third base and also asking permission from your partner's family. It was all so strange.
Then there was also a matter of Ghost. His species also used to have harems, though they never quite left it.
The part that Soap had been entertained by was that it was not based on sex or gender. Or even species. They had been building harems of their own species for years before they started going out and exploring the universe. Soap had been surprised when Ghost had been so insistent about their rules around consent. Anyone else, he may have assumed it was naivety, but with Ghost? He believed him. To take away one's choice was an act punished by the worst thing they could due to each other.
Tear the criminal to shreds publicly.
Ghost had proudly told them he had been a part of some of those trials and Roach and Soap had almost started salivating.
Today, Soap and Roach were anxious. Something had happened. Something never before seen or heard of.
Ghost took vacation time.
It wasn't much, just three days, but it wasn't even while they were on a planet!! They were just on ship!
Roach had never seen Ghost take off work. Most people refused to take work off while the ship was moving anyway because there was usually next to nothing to do for long periods of time, so this was extra strange.
Soap hummed. "Maybe we should bring him something? He has to be sick if he's taking off, does his species have an equivalent to salad?"
Roach thought it was very fun Soap would consider salad a food for sick people, but decided he could ask more about that later. "Humans do soup. Would his version be something with raw meat? Seems the best for him."
They put their brain cells together and brought him a steak. Was it unoriginal? yes, but sick people don't need fancy stuff.
Roach went in to his chambers first, one of the few people to have a master key. He went to announce his presence, Soap close behind, but both quickly shut up.
Ghost held the pillow tight over his face. There was no way he could breath easily based on the death grip he had on it. His other hand was furiously jacking off.
It was the most vocal either had seen him. He whimpered and whined and barked just loud enough to get it through the pillow.
"You called off work to jerk off?" Soap joked, though he was now bright red.
Ghost sluggishly reacted to them. He moved the pillow. Beautiful maskless face on display. There was a layer of exhaustion to him that was abnormal. "Fuck off. I was finally fucking close." He sounded miserable, head thrown back. His hand stopped though and he rolled his wrist to get the soreness out.
Roach swallowed, feeling a tiny bit out of his depth. "You okay?"
"Mating season." Ghost hissed at them, tail thrashing angrily. "Please, neither of you are going to want to be around me for the next two days so just get lost." He finally got the idea to cover his body up.
His hand started up again and it was clear the way he was doing it, this had been going on a while and his frustration was mounting.
Roach and Soap exchanged glances. Actually making eye contact.
Soap nodded at the door and Roach locked it. He turned around to see Soap slowly joining Ghost, taking the pillow from his face. Ghost looked at him, groaning.
"Please don't torture me, Johnny." His voice was barely above a growl now. He couldn't imagine the amount of strength to simply put the words together.
Soap put his hands on Ghost's shoulder. "Don't worry, Simon. Just want to help you out."
No sooner had he gotten the words out did Ghost flip them over. He fucked between Soap's thighs, pressing them both tight into the mattress until it was hard for Soap to breath.
Ghost rutted between his thighs until he finally, finally came. He groaned with pleasure and kissed Soap breathless. "Thank you, thank you, fucking hell. I'll do anything just keep letting me do this." His hips only stuttered before continuing.
Roach hummed. "Ghost. You told me that your mating season had minimal effect on you. I would say this is not minimal effect."
Ghost groaned. "It's hitting a bit hard this year, I'll admit."
Soap purred. "Can't say I mind. I have some time I can put in. If you need to be coddled."
Ghost growled but Soap squeezed his thighs and quickly shut him up. He rested his head on Soap. "I do..."
"You do what?"
"...need to be coddled. I thought I'd be fine but please, I need help." He sounded so sad and miserable.
Roach gently ran his fingers through his hair. "You should've said something. We could've helped you." He glanced at Soap's face. "Happily."
Ghost whined. "It's improper. I'm rutting against you like a fucking..." He buried his face in Soap's neck.
Roach hummed. "Continue. Please. I have notes to..."
Ghost groaned. "Gary... please... Can you just pretend you like me? No fucking experiments."
Roach paused. He almost said something, though he wasn't sure what words he could possibly string together. Maybe an apology? He never intended to make Ghost feel that way! Though maybe he should've realized sooner.
But before he could get it out, Soap was turning Ghost of him. "Hey now. You poor thing. What gave you that idea?"
Ghost huffed and his tail lashed. "You two are quite a bit more compatible than I am..." He yanked Soap up and buried his face in his chest. "I'm not like either of you guys."
Roach quickly joined him and kissed Ghost's face all over. "Oh, love. I'm so sorry."
They quickly managed to pin Ghost down and Roach kissed him gently. "I have some vacation time. We'll all put it in. Promise. I think I have some things i need to make up to you."
Ghost relaxed and nodded, panting. "Please..."
They took turns stepping away to inform their respective bosses. Neither wanted Ghost to be alone too long. Roach pushed Ghost so he was laying down and he started to ride him, cupping Ghost's face and smiling at him. He maintained eye contact and if he thought Ghost was gone before, it was nothing compared to now. His pupils expanded until they almost took up the color.
"Course I love you, Simon. Thought you knew that." Roach ground down and Ghost growled, yanking him closer.
"You guys aren't going to be able to walk for the next week."
"I look forward to it."
#Johnny “Soap” Mactavish#Simon “Ghost” Riley#Gary Roach Sanderson#Soap Cod#Ghost COD#Soapghost#Ghostsoap#Soap x Ghost#Ghost x Soap#Macriley#Call of Duty#Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2#ghost x roach#roach x ghost#roach x soap#soap x roach#ghost x soap x roach
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Fireleaf (Part Five)
Lucien Vanserra x Reader
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four
Thank you so much for all the support I've had on this story so far <3 I cannot express to you how much my lovely friend @greeneyedivy helps with this story. I very much consider it our story, because while I do the writing, her brilliant brain cells come up and help with so many of the ideas and plot points, so she deserves just as much credit<3
Warnings: None for this part!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“A masquerade?”
Two weeks later, Dion strolled beside you, sliding his hands into his pockets. A considerable distance was kept between you as the two of you braved the crisp air.
“It’s a type of ball where everyone wears masks—”
“I know what it is,” You cut in, snorting. “I’m just not sure why we’d be invited to a masquerade ball in the Spring Court.”
“We are…tentative allies with Spring. And Lucien is a friend of the High Lord, Tamlin. We were invited out of courtesy.”
Lucien seemed to have friends all over the place — something you’d only learned from your snooping, brought about entirely by boredom, over the past fortnight.
You’d certainly noticed a change all around — namely, and gradually, in Dion’s behaviour. It seemed that without the staring eyes of gossiping nobles, he no longer felt the need to be so openly affectionate towards you; as though the public displays of your courting throughout the festival had merely been for show. The touches had begun to become less and less, few and far between. Gone were the subtle brushes against your hand, the kisses to your temple, the sweet remarks laced with suggestion. By now, all of it had been replaced with behaviour much more appropriate in a platonic relationship. You were acting like friends.
And you found yourself not even slightly bothered by that. Whether that spelled doom for your nuptials, you hadn’t decided.
“It’s seen as an honour — for one court to be invited to another’s event.” Dion said. “And it’s also not a bad thing for us to present ourselves as a good ally to their people. We’ll be decked out in Spring Court attire as a mark of respect.”
Spring Court attire. You didn’t know what that looked like. You’d never seen another court — never even glimpsed another High Lord. The idea of leaving the lands you’d grown up in and seeing, hearing, smelling an entirely new place…it almost made you giddy with excitement. It was almost enough to tune out that ever-present panic and sorrow gnawing at you.
Because Dion’s change in behaviour over the past two weeks hadn’t been the only difference that had jarred you. It was how quickly you’d been thrown into wedding preparations — how only the day after you’d sparred with Lucien, you’d been subjected to a lesson by Beron about all the important members of his court, all the vital people who would be coming to your wedding and where you would have them sit. That same afternoon, you’d pored over gown materials with the Lady of Autumn. All of it had taken off so damn fast, and had made for a chaotic two weeks that’d left you grasping, in your own time, for some sense of self. You knew you’d pushed the limits a few times – that the High Lord himself had spied you wandering places you had no business going, and taking horses out for rides without his permission. You’d even offered, at times, to help the servants with their work. To do anything that you had chosen to do, that made you feel normal. And if Beron got sick of your behaviour and sent you back to your family…well, you certainly wouldn’t be complaining.
So — yeah. You could really use some fun.
“So I get to dance and enjoy myself?” You knocked your arm into Dion’s. “Or do I have to stand by and be a pretty piece on your arm?”
“Well,” His grin was wicked. “That’s the beauty of the masks, isn’t it? They offer you enough anonymity to throw caution to the wind.”
True, you thought. You may never have been to a masquerade ball before, but you could imagine what a tantalising combination the masks and the wine and the dim lighting were. A real chance for you to let your hair down; you could have cried with relief.
“In that case,” You slowed to a stop, turning to Dion. “Perhaps that night, we can just…be Y/N and Dion. No pressure on us. No worrying about who’s watching. Let’s enjoy ourselves.”
His mischievous grin softened into a gentle smile, and he nodded. “I like the sound of that. Just Y/N and Dion.”
⤲
You were so excited, you couldn’t possibly sit still.
Already, you could feel the urge to dance rippling through your bones. Could feel the draw to a night of freedom that awaited. You wanted to slip your mask on and be somebody else for a while.
Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, did not do things by halves — a fact you became all too aware of a week before, when he’d sent his own personal designer, tailor and seamstress to the Autumn Court to have you all appropriately outfitted for the ball. It was the first time in a while that you hadn’t cared about being poked and prodded and rotated while your measurements were taken, and a sketch of the gown you were going to wear was brought to life. The first dress in a while that you were excited to put on.
Anyone could be forgiven for thinking you were a Spring Court female, you realised, as you stared into the mirror on the night of the ball. The tulle gown was a soft, sage green, tight-fitting at the bodice and pooling to the floor in a swish of gauzy material that felt light and easy to move in. It was more daring than the gowns you wore in the Autumn Court — with delicate, off-the-shoulder sleeves that left most of your arms and shoulders exposed, and a neckline that dared to dip a tad lower than your usual dresses, you’d never felt so—
Sexy. You felt sexy. And light on your feet, and airy. And the mask that had been made to match the gown — an utter artwork in itself. It covered half of your face, and was of the same green shade as your dress. Adorned with glittering petals and jewels and stones, you’d spent a while just admiring it before you’d allowed the dresser to fasten it on your face. And perhaps your most favourite feature — the flaring green feathers on one side — possibly those of a peacock — that swept brilliantly upwards towards your hair, styled into an immaculate updo and accented with little vines of green Spring Court leaves and butterflies crafted of painted glass.
Now this — if you could wear this to your wedding, you’d marry any of the damn Vanserras.
A light rapping on the door had you straightening yourself out. You looked up, half expected to see Dion in all his finery.
Your stomach twisted a bit when the High Lord sauntered in.
You watched, in the mirror, as he approached you from behind. He didn’t yet don the mask that had been made for him, but the tailored green-and-gold brocade suit was undoubtedly a thing to behold, giving a hint of the sculpt of muscles underneath. Beron Vanserra was, indeed, a handsome male.
But inexplicable nausea always arose in you whenever he was around.
He stopped behind you, a mere hair’s-breadth away. The warmth of his breath fanned your exposed neck, and you felt yourself go rigid, taut.
“High Lord,” You greeted quietly, dipping your chin.
“Look at you,” One corner of his mouth quirked up, his eyes raking over your reflection. “My son is certainly a lucky male.”
You swallowed, wondering how subtly you could inch away. “I appreciate the compliment.”
“Hmm, I’m sure.”
You watched – watched so carefully as he slowly circled your body, stopping in front of you. Dark, empty eyes stared down into yours. Assessing. Cold.
“I don’t suppose,” He hummed, reaching out to touch a stray curl that hung loose from your hair, “that I need to remind you not to embarrass my court tonight.”
You lifted your chin. Stared up at him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
His lips twitched into a calculating smile – like he didn’t believe your words for one second. “I would hope not,” He said. “But I’ve had my eye on you these past two weeks, since your family returned home. It would seem that you’ve been a tad restless. Perhaps you’re trying to cause trouble in the hopes that I would call off this engagement and let you leave?”
Your eyes narrowed at him. Had your behaviour, your thoughts, truly been that blatant? It threw you off – made you feel less confident before him.
And he could see that; he seemed to be aware of every minute expression on your face. The way your features were begging to be kicked up into a sneer that his mere presence naturally provoked.
He smirked, letting go of that one curl he’d been toying with. But his hand only moved inches, settling at your neck, his rough thumb sweeping strokes over your throat. “If you miss your dear family so much, we could always invite one of your sisters for another visit.”
Knowing him, he was fully aware of the tensions that existed between you and Molly – would probably send for her just to spite you–
“The youngest one — Willow, is it?” He tilted his head. “You seem to be quite fond of her. And I’ve heard she’s had some…marital issues. What a poor situation for the poor lamb to find herself in. Our court is always open, should she ever crave a higher echelon of Autumn males.” That wolfish smirk widened. “I think Jareth got quite taken with her, too.”
You knew you’d frozen, gone entirely rigid – and not because of his hand still brushing your neck. Sickness unfurled inside of you like a wave, and you wanted to reach, to grab for anything to steady yourself. For Beron to be so aware of your closeness with Willow…for him to have already concocted calculating thoughts about it, to now be standing in front of you with a glimmer of threat in his eyes, his voice…
You swallowed. Eased yourself back a step. “My sister is unavailable for the foreseeable future. But I thank you, High Lord, for your thoughtfulness.” Gods, the pleasantries were nauseating. They physically pained you.
And Beron could see that. He seemed to be trying to rein in a laugh as he flicked his gaze over you once more. “I’m glad we have an understanding. If you behave as you’re expected to, I’m sure no measures will have to be taken.”
Such clear calculation in his words and his tone. And yet all you could do – for Willow – was dip your chin in acknowledgement. That you understood his threat. That you would heed it, like the obedient little female you were.
“Come.” The High Lord straightened himself out, offering you his arm. “I shall escort you to the sitting room. The others are waiting. We don’t want to be late.”
⤲
They were lined up in a row. All five of them.
And yet you stopped dead in the doorway. Gaped at them. Eris was the only one you could pick out immediately – only because he favoured having his hair cropped much shorter than that of his brothers’.
But the similarities between the other four were almost frightening. They all wore the same tailored outfits – a deep green, velvet version of Beron’s, accented with leaves. All had the same green-and-gold, cat-like masks that covered half of their faces, leaving the full lips and sharp jawlines as the only real visible things. And with Dion, Lucien, Jareth and Rian all leaving their long, red hair unbound, cascading around their shoulders, it took you a moment of intense scrutiny to actually pick your fiance out of the four of them.
Took Dion stepping out of line, towards you, for you to be absolutely sure.
“Mother above, look at you.” He grinned, his eyes flicking over you in appreciation. “I hope I get to dance with you before you’re stolen away from me.”
You smiled, inclining your head in thanks. “You clean up quite nicely yourself.”
He reached a hand out to you. “Shall we?”
His hand was warm, as you slid yours into it – not at all like Beron’s touch on your skin. And you found yourself sidling closer to Dion, found yourself wanting to make sure you didn’t catch yourself alone again any time soon.
“Let’s go,” Beron stepped forward. “I’ll not have us being late.”
And so Beron joined hands with the Lady of Autumn. Eris with Lucien and Jareth with Rian. And in a sweep of lurching darkness, you each jumped from Autumn to Spring.
⤲
The smells hit you first. Crisp and floral. Like freshly mown grass and rose petals.
Your group came to a stop on what appeared to be the lawn – though the size of it was more like a damn field. And as your eyes took in the sights before you…the pinks and oranges as the sun set over Tamlin’s estate, the expertly-trimmed hedges, the masses of different plants and flowers and trees, flowing fountains and pristine walkways that wended throughout it all…the only thing you could do was gape in utter awe.
If it looked like this in the dying light of evening time…you could only imagine its beauty first thing in the morning. Or bathed in warm afternoon sun rays.
“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Dion smiled, also drinking in the sights.
Behind you, Jareth scowled. “If it doesn’t make your nostrils sting, yes.”
“I seem to remember you complaining about that the last time you visited, Jareth.”
Every one of you turned at the deep, gravelly voice that came from behind. And it took only one sweep of your eyes to know that this — this was Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.
You’d heard about him, of course. Heard that he was quietly handsome and rugged. Heard that he could shift into a beast on command. You believed that was entirely possible as you studied the broad expanse of his muscles. The male was huge.
And looking directly at you.
He, too, was showcasing what you were quickly realising was considered Spring Court Green. And he looked every bit the High Lord with his golden locks flowing around his face and the glimmer of emerald eyes you peeked through his mask of the same colour.
“You must be Y/N.” He greeted you politely. “Welcome to my court.”
You dipped your chin. “It’s very beautiful.”
“What, I don’t get a special greeting anymore, Tam?”
You glanced round — just in time to see Lucien step forward, the biggest smile on his face you’d ever seen. It was glowing, breathtaking. All you could do was stare.
“As if you don’t visit often enough and eat all my food?” Tamlin’s answering smile was just as broad. He clasped Lucien’s arms. “You’re looking well, friend.”
You watched the interaction, trying not to gape…because in the time you’d been at the Vanserra Estate, you’d never seen Lucien show the tenderness for his family that he currently displayed, unguarded, to Tamlin. It stirred something inside you that you couldn’t quite place a finger on.
Maybe…maybe there were other places that Lucien felt more at home.
“Thank you, again, for the invite, Tamlin.” Beron stepped forward. His strained voice told you just how rarely he thanked anyone for anything, but he squared his shoulders and forced himself to be pleasant.
“It’s my pleasure.” Tamlin smiled, and you tried not to gawk at the pure radiance of it. He turned to you and Dion. “And, of course, myself and my court extend our deepest congratulations on the news of your engagement. Shall we go in?”
Huge he may have been, but he was a picture of utter grace as he turned and headed towards the ginormous doorway – that was, until Lucien playfully shoved him, and then draped an arm around his shoulders. You watched the whole display as the rest of you followed; read the ease and lightness with which Lucien walked. An ease and lightness he never seemed to possess around his blood.
You glanced at his brothers. All of them had seen, and yet none of them seemed to care.
The thought made your shoulders slump slightly.
“Don’t be nervous.” Dion slid a hand to the small of your back. Misread your demeanour entirely. “Remember what we said. Just Y/N and Dion.”
You tried not to think about how odd it sounded as you followed him to the wine.
⤲
Such a brilliant thing – faerie wine. Not that you’d ever had the opportunity to try much else, but Linden had once told you of a time he’d drunk human wine – and likened it to muddy water.
But within two hours, every reservation, every worry, every sad thought…just gone. The other masked, dancing people around you didn’t matter as Dion spun you around in his arms, and the two of you laughed and chatted like there was nobody else in the huge ballroom. You were…euphoric. On top of the world. And if this was what it was like to be on Dion’s arm…you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.
He gripped hold of your hand, spinning you with a fluidity that he, himself, didn’t quite match. He wasn’t a bad dancer by any means, just…not a natural. Not light-footed and nimble like Eris had been when you’d danced with him on the final night of the festival. But with the wine, with the music, the masks…none of it mattered. You felt like you were walking on air.
“Shit.” Dion snorted as he watched his own steps, his back and shoulders stiff. “I’m definitely not a natural dancer.”
You grinned up at him, a laugh bubbling from your lips that was barely loud enough to be heard beneath the music. “Not a natural, no. Not smooth like Eris.”
He scowled playfully, his hands landing on your hips. “Eris is a show-off. He practises this shit in the mirror – do not tell him I told you that.”
You couldn’t help laughing again, throwing your head back and leaning into the pure joy you felt in that moment. It felt good to enjoy yourself. To enjoy someone else. And even though you were flushed all over, and giddy, and the mask was tight on your face and the dress too hot on your body, you thought you might like to stay like this forever. To dance, smile, laugh, forever.
The room was big enough that you only got the odd glimpse of Vanserra hair – but aside of recognising the short length of Eris’s, there was no telling which brother passed you by, or which was dancing with the pretty Spring Court girls, or which was necking wine at the tables pushed against the wall. And you liked it this way – the anonymity. Having a night where no eyes – not even Beron’s – were interested in following you.
“How about,” You grinned up at Dion, placing a hand against his chest, “you go and grab us some more drinks, and when you get back, I’ll show you how to relax your posture.”
Dion snorted, brushing long, orange locks from his face. “Alright — deal.” He squeezed your waist. “I’ll be back.”
Pressing his lips to your fingers once, he released his hold on you and disappeared into the sea of people, the sight of him becoming swallowed up immediately by flamboyant masks and extravagant gowns and the slick dances happening around you. You stepped just slightly out of the way, watching from the sidelines, in utter awe of the lethal precision of the moving bodies.
It only occurred to you – as you waited and waited for Dion’s return – just how thirsty you were. But you wanted to get back out there, to throw yourself into the hands of the music and feel alive. You fidgeted restlessly as one song drifted into another, the beat quicker, more frenzied. When it was nearing the end, and Dion still hadn’t returned, you scowled and pushed your way through the crowd. No doubt, he’d got distracted talking to somebody.
Hands grabbed for you as you passed, trying to pull you into dances that you politely declined. Your eyes scanned for every flash of red and orange in your periphery – bouncing over Eris, who was dancing expertly with a light-footed female, and a woman wearing a mask bedecked with glistening rubies; another who twirled around in a gauzy gown of a burnt orange colour. Another song was starting by the time you finally spotted your fiance – sure enough engrossed in a conversation with a Spring Court male, an almost-finished glass of wine in his hand. He turned away from the male as though he’d sensed your approach.
“Hey!” You reached him, grabbing his hand. “Come on. Don’t worry about the drinks. I wanna dance.”
You didn’t wait for his reaction – didn’t wait for him to finish his conversation, prising his drink from his hand and setting it aside. You were light as air and euphoric as you dragged him back onto the dance floor, twirling your way around the other dancers and finding your way to the middle. You preferred it there – felt more secure. More…anonymous.
The two of you fell into the dance easily, that extra glass of wine having done wonders for his fluidity. One of Dion’s hands clasped yours whilst the other was secured at your waist. His grip on you was firm, pleasant, and you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so good as he pulled you around, matching your steps and keeping up with you. Clearly, you hadn’t given him enough credit – he was a much better dancer once he relaxed and let go.
“I love this one,” You shouted over the frenzied tune, barely loud enough to reach him. “The rise and fall of the notes – all of it. I love it.”
“You know this music?” His voice floated to you as he spun you around confidently, brilliantly, all earlier reservations about his dancing gone.
“I never cared much for dancing as a girl,” You fell into step, your front pressing against his, “Because it was something I had to do, I didn’t like it. But when Linden began to train me, he made me realise that what I wanted to learn from him, and what I hadn’t wanted to learn from my dance teacher, were actually very similar things. He took me to a dance, once, to prove it – and this was played there.”
“And you enjoyed dancing that night?”
You smiled at the memory, nodding as you moved with him. “I did – I think for the first time ever. Because I had chosen to go with Linden that night. I had chosen to dance that night. And I realised that was all I’d wanted.”
“Choice.” Dion stared intensely down at you, your glazed eyes snagging on the moving lights and shapes behind him. “Because choice makes a whole world of difference – doesn’t it?”
It did. And to hear him say it meant more to you than he probably realised. To know that he understood…that you may not have been each other’s choices, but he understood, still, what it meant to you.
He got you. And you…you thought you got him.
It made some small, fiery thing alight inside you. A thought that perhaps…perhaps this didn’t need to be doomed, just because you hadn’t chosen it for yourself. That you didn’t need to oppose it on mere principle.
Dion was a good male. A good male who listened to you, who got you. And here, like this, in his arms…his hands touching you, his hair splaying around him beautifully as the two of you spun around, his presence that felt safe and right…you thought that maybe you could choose him.
Thought, for the first time, that maybe you wanted to.
You stared up at him, the upbeat song coming to an end and transitioning into one that was slower, much more sensual. Both of his hands immediately tried to pull you into a more languid dance – but you stilled him. Met his gaze with your own.
“What is it?” He cocked his head.
You didn’t answer. Merely cupped the back of his neck with your hand and pulled his face down to yours.
The dancers around you didn’t spare you a glance as you caught him in a searing kiss. Burning. Passionate.
And without even a second of hesitation, he was kissing you back immediately, his hands sliding around your waist.
The kiss was deliciously hard as he lifted you just slightly, enough for your body to press against his. Enough for you to slide your hand into the silken strands of his hair and somehow pull him closer to you, to press his mouth firmer against yours.
It was the most delicious, heady kiss you’d ever had. And you wanted more – to taste his tongue around yours, to inhale that delicious scent – the familiar, earthy smell that all Autumn males seemed to have, but tinged with something different tonight. Something that bizarrely made you think of early morning daylight, wrapped up in crisp bedsheets. Perhaps the result of Autumn and Spring mingling. Whatever it was, you wanted to gulp it down greedily.
But neither of you had taken a breath. And only when you were both gasping for air, huffing into each other’s mouths, did you pull away.
You stared at each other, chests heaving, breaths panting. Dion glanced at your lips again.
“More.” His voice was a deep growl as he took your face in both of his hands and leaned in, the music seeming to encase that one, daring word just between the two of you–
But his kiss didn’t have a chance to land as another dancer backed into you. As she stumbled, her wine flute slipping from her hand and tipping towards your dress. Dion tried to pull you out of its path, but the liquid had already sloshed over one side of the gown.
The young female blanched, blinking at you. “Oh gods—I’m so sorry—”
Her eyes caught the vibrant shade of Dion’s hair, and you could see — see the fear in her eyes, her mind already considering what Beron Vanserra’s reaction might be to someone embarrassing a member of his court — even by accident.
“It’s absolutely fine.” You tried to make your face as reassuring as possible behind your mask. “No harm done.”
“Your dress—”
“It was an accident,” Dion leaned down, collecting the fallen flute and returning it to her outstretched hand.“We were…distracted.”
The woman’s wide eyes tugged at your heart enough for you to gently lay a hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about it — really. I just need to clean up.”
She dipped her chin in thanks — looked so grateful, you thought she might well up. You turned to Dion before she could, shooting him a flustered gaze, your eyes once again snagging on his lips.
“I’ll meet you back out here once I’ve sorted this.” You said.
He nodded — and glanced at your lips, too, before you turned from the mass of dancing bodies.
⤲
It took so long — so long for you to wash the wine out and dry your dress that by the time you returned to the ballroom, some of your intoxication had lifted. You felt clearer, less foggy — and just as ready to dive into the dancing as you were before.
Your lips were still tingling from Dion’s kiss. And the fact that he so readily, so greedily, wanted to kiss you back…you liked it. Felt the undeniable tug of something deep inside you that was thrilling and giddying and beautiful. You wanted more of it. To kiss him again. Feel his big, steady hands clutching you again.
The formation of dancers was far different when you returned. Instead of couples filling the floor, small groups clustered in circles all around the room, their hands joining. You frowned, searching for the brilliant orange hair of your fiance — and felt a warm, gentle hand grab yours.
“There you are,” Dion’s voice filled your ears as he leaned down. “The circle dance is just starting. Come on.”
You turned in his arms, smiling up at him. “The what?”
“A Spring Court dance,” His answering grin was wicked. “You have two circles, see?” He pointed to the group closest to you. “An inner circle and an outer circle.”
Sure enough, inside the ring of dancers — around ten of them joining hands — was another identical one. They each faced the person in front of them.
“The music plays, and one circle dances clockwise while the other dances anti-clockwise,” Dion explained. “And then when the music stops, you have to kiss whoever is in front of you.”
You snorted, smiling up at him – and almost blinked at the dusting of pink creeping up his neck. The way he swallowed hard – nervously, his earlier confidence gone. It warmed your heart, and you knew…knew that your eyes said it all, that they were reassuring. That you were going into it knowing who you wanted to kiss when the music stopped. That you wanted to kiss him again.
“It’s starting.” He smiled, tugging you over to the group. “You join the inner circle, I‘ll join the outer.”
And so you did just that, joining hands with two Spring Court females as Dion stood in position in front of you. And then the music began.
It was like…taking off. You wondered if this was what flying felt like, as you gave over the control in your body and allowed yourself to be pulled into motion. Your surroundings blurred, the speed of the dance picking up with the tempo of the music, and then there was nothing but you and light and music and flashing shapes. You could feel yourself laughing, feel your head falling back in ecstasy as you spun and spun, and you didn’t know how you hadn’t been entirely lifted off your feet — nor did you care. Not as you became the music.
And then as fast as it had taken off, it stopped. The music halted, and you were yanked to a standstill, your head still spinning as you forced your feet to ground you. Your laughter mingled with that of the other dancers.
With that of Dion’s, who had stopped in place before you.
“What a coincidence,” He chuckled deeply, gazing at you as the other partners leaned towards each other.
You snorted, stepping forward. Your hand reached for his, fingers brushing. “That it is.”
That one hand latched onto yours, the other coming to cup your jaw. Dion stared down at you, and he seemed to be…to be nervous, as he swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and released a breath. Because this was different — not the heat of the moment first kiss you’d shared earlier, when no one had paid attention. It felt more naked, somehow, now. Like he was trying to grasp for any scraps of his earlier confidence with people watching — expecting — this kiss.
You smiled reassuringly — communicated, with your eyes, that you wanted this — again. And the room seemed to melt around you.
He leaned down. Pressed his lips to yours. You reached up to touch your free hand to his cheek.
It was a different kiss…to the one you’d shared earlier. Not as passionate or searing, but…soft. Sweet. How you supposed your first kiss should have been, unlike the surging need you’d shared in the middle of the dance floor. Dion’s lips were almost tentative, careful…and maybe it was just because of the many other people around you, or perhaps because you’d sobered up a bit, that it was just…different. Not bad. Different.
But you didn’t care; not as the lightness in you continued. The best you’d felt in weeks. In a year.
You buried your fingers in Dion’s hair, deepening the kiss just slightly—
And he broke away – no, was pulled away, you realised, as he was yanked into a different circle of dancers. Your heart was thudding, mind reeling and cheeks scorching as you touched your fingers to your lips, just managing to dodge out of the way as a Spring Court female tried to tug you closer.
You smiled politely, stepping back. The room was heavy, pressing, and you knew if you didn’t feel the brush of fresh air on you soon, you may just collapse.
“Fresh air.” Was all you explained, before turning on your feet.
You’d already lost sight of Dion completely, the music once again picking up as you wended your way through the sea of bodies, some still dancing, some still kissing – some just talking. You didn’t have a clue where you were going, but the press of cool night air and the sudden influx of floral scents told you that you were headed in the right direction. You turned a corner, pushing through a pair of huge double doors, and found yourself stepping out into the sprawling gardens.
An inky, starry sky bore down on you as you came to a stop on a private patio. A few people milled about, strolling through the hedges, but nobody seemed to care that you were there. It helped you to relax as you pressed your back against the wall, feeling the cold bite of the concrete seeping through your dress.
You gazed up at those stars, breaths still heaving as you smiled to yourself. Tonight had been…fun. The best night you’d had in a while. Perhaps even the best night you’d had since you’d found out you were to be married, over a year ago now. Your mind had been so crowded since that day Barric had come to your family’s estate; crowded and suffocating, with barely any relief.
But tonight had been a relief. Tonight, you’d felt more like yourself than you had in a long time. The feeling was beautiful, familiar, and you were excited to carry on that way, to lean into the euphoria and light you’d craved for so long–
Until someone snorted from beside you.
You started, pushing off the wall. You turned back to the doors to find Lucien leaning against the frame, no longer wearing his mask. He stared at you with an unreadable expression, cocking an eyebrow.
You shrugged. Stared back at him questioningly. “Problem?”
“You know,” He chuckled, stepping out onto the patio, his boots clipping against the concrete, “For someone who claims to not want to be caught with her hand between her legs, you sure seem eager to replace that hand with the first male that walks by.”
You gawked at him.
Gawked at him, and clenched your hands at your side.
You’d barely run into him over the past fortnight. Certainly not shared a word between you, and his glances were sparse and scathing, too.
And yet here he was, mouthing off. Again.
“What did you just say to me?” You demanded.
Lucien shrugged – the picture of ease, as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I don’t think you need me to repeat myself, Lady.”
“If you have a problem with me kissing my soon-to-be husband,” You snapped, “Perhaps you should peel your eyes away and go annoy someone else. It’s not like we won’t be doing far more than that on our wedding night.”
Lucien snorted again, shaking his head. “At least you know what’s expected of you, I suppose. I see you’ve really thrown yourself into the role.”
You were entirely lost for words as he stared at you, his lips twitching – perhaps to smirk, or perhaps to sneer. You didn’t feel like waiting around to find out – especially not if he seemed hell-bent on ruining your good mood.
So you squared your shoulders and brushed past him.
“How about minding your own damn business, Lucien?” You murmured, and slipped back inside, the warmth enveloping you immediately.
And you didn’t look back to find out which one it was – a smirk or a sneer. Or perhaps both. His eyes remained on your back as you strode away, and something told you that he probably knew–
That for whatever reason, his words got to you far more than they should.
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#acotar#lucien x reader#lucien vanserra x reader#lucien vanserra#lucien acotar#lucien fanfic#acotar fandom#acotar writing#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar fluff#acotar series#acotar smut#acotar x reader#fluff#mating bond#lucien#lucien smut#lucien fluff#lucien fic#angst#smut#sarah j maas#vanserra x reader#eris vanserra#autumn court#acotar universe#reader insert#acotar books
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I haven't even considered that the boys also will get to know Marc eventually. Are they cool with him? Is Marc open about his job? They probably love the fact that Marc also rides bikes, maybe one of them has even raced him once in earlier years and magically remembers the name (maybe his face as well)? And Marc and Vale were afraid said academy boy knew him from OF?
Hahahahahaha I need to write out a long form chapter-style response to this, but I am DYING.
I'm just picturing marc showing up to the ranch while the Academy Bros are training, all timid and shy, and luca "valentino's dear brother" marini looks him dead in the eye and goes.
"Marc Marquez!"
And vale and marc absolutely SHIT BRICKS. They're literally stunned, gasping for air, total KO. Vale's brain cells have packed up and left at the idea of his baby brother seeing his boyfriend- HIS marc-- naked online.
Marc is standing there, mouth open like a fish, and luca bounds over.
"Remember me? We raced minimoto for one summer in andorra!" (I just made that up, let's pretend it's realistic)
Marc wheezes in relief and is like "oh...! Yes you had bad hair"
Also I think the boys would generally be chill with it. Bezz is suspicious of him and claims it's because he doesn't approve of sex work, but really it's just that he's having confusing sexual feelings about Celestino and being confronted with a paragon of male sexuality makes his confusing feelings hard to ignore <3
#marc isn't super open about his job especially since he basically stops doing it once seeing vale#but uccio will never let him rest so obviously he tells everyone in an effort to embarrass marc#while marc is just the ben affleck smoking meme#thank you for the ask!#motogp ask#onlyfans au#vr46#mm93
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puppy pack || thiam centric || completed || 5 chapters || 11k words || fluff and humor and a smidge of angst with a happy ending
summary:
Brett hosts a house party for the Puppy Pack. Liam and Theo get their clothes all wet.
---
“Whatever happened to all your brain cells, anyway?” Theo continues.
“My dad beat them out of me,” Liam answers without hesitation, several seconds before his brain-to-mouth filter in its current intoxicated state can keep up.
holy shit i finally finished this gargantuan (by my standards anyway) monstrosity. the first chapter is up!! and the rest is coming over the next few weeks.
this fic is pre-relationship because, although there’s a lot of cute thiam scenes (i hope), they are drunk, so i didn’t want to make them do anything too crazy. also this fic is kind of written so you can imagine slotting it in somewhere in a larger, slowest-of-slow-burns, overarching thiam story, so it’s not the right timing in my mind for them to get together just yet. this fic would be like a b-plot to an episode somewhere towards the end of the theoretical 7a that i like to imagine, intercut with scott and the older pack members Doing Plot Things like a bunch of losers.
if you want to know what sort of ride you’re getting into, this fic is mostly fluff and humour, just a happy little snapshot of the puppy pack being stupid kids and having fun. we take a brief dip into angst for chapters 3 & 4 but it has a happy ending and the angstiness doesn’t outweigh the shenaniganness too much imo. i wrote it to feel like some of the drinking experiences i have had as a youth, so hopefully it’s an authentic mix of dumbassery in a good way and dumbassery in an oh-my-god-you-could-have-died way.
this fic is dedicated to
@thiamsxbitch for leaving a lovely comment on “i lost my heart under the bridge” a few weeks ago that got me thinking about writing again, and for encouraging me all throughout, inspiring me with her own writing, validating my choice to post it in chapters even though the poll said no, being a lovely ray of sunshine, and making this fandom a more welcoming place🖤
@pearlspouch for gifting me a work that i decided to link this one to very slightly… it doesn't line up perfectly but at one point i mention liam and mason making a bet about skirts. if you want to know how that goes, you should read “You Look My Way And I Lose My Breath” by issawhatevah on ao3!!! i absolutely adore it, and it’s a brilliant read especially if you’re unsatisfied with thiam not (officially, anyway) getting together at the end of this. thanks again to sina for being an absolute legend🖤
@nuxmediocre for saying she would read this fic if i left it with its draft title (“weredickheads part four: why are you buying clothes at the soup store”). i did end up with a proper title, but i was just glad that someone appreciated my sense of humour, so thanks for that🖤
and to my real life friend and housemate who drank too much on the day i had literally just started planning to write this idea, for giving me first hand experience about dealing with someone who’s so sick from alcohol that you consider calling an ambulance. glad you survived bud, and your sacrifice contributed so much to gay fanfiction🙏
if you subject yourself to reading this, please leave me a comment with your thoughts and i will be eternally grateful🔥🖤🔥 tell me a song or songs that you think the puppy pack would absolutely thrive to (no, we do not care that it’s supposed to be 2014 in the timeline so don’t worry about that)
#teen wolf#thiam#thiam fanfic#theo raeken#liam dunbar#puppy pack#brett talbot#nolan holloway#mason hewitt#corey bryant#hayden romero#gwen teen wolf#alec teen wolf#lori rohr#it's almost 3am sheesh
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HI Y'ALL you ready for the Absolute Brainrot I got outta nowhere for NPCs in a campaign I haven't written? no? too bad, here they are anyways. Art (left, shaved down horns) & Dusk (right, broken horn), the Telodomic Tiefling Two. they're sibwings with a few things wrong with them in different ways. they're generally friendly though!
I'll put More Official Sounding Info under the cut!
Dusk and Art are a rare sort, given that tieflings born and raised in the country of Telodom are few and far between amidst the land's cold climate and general distrust of both divine and demonic influences. The siblings now live in Estellus, reluctant refugees displaced thanks to a civil war between Telodom's ruler and its people. They both more or less work to clear their debt to the "old friends" who helped their escape southward, with Art running a shop to sell their myriad creations and Dusk traveling on various odd-jobs when he isn't contributing to his sibling's stock.
Once specialized in medicine-making and the effects of chemicals on the body, Dusk's studies have veered away from the living and onto the dead and the space between the soul and the physical, the shift from magic to mortal, turning the man of science into a self-taught wizard of necromany. Though why the change in field and to what end, Dusk is too cagey a fellow to give a straight answer. But he is happy to have left behind his fraught and frozen homeland and continue practicing both his physical and magical skills… even when his constant running and lack of rest puts enough strain on his fickle body to warrant the cane he carries around.
Art does not have their older brother's stomach for such visceral things, sometimes literally getting nauseous over it. Sympathetic and anxious, Art prefers craftsman trades to keep their hands and mind busy. Their shop sells many an enchanted accessory and even some paintings, but Art themself has also been known to write, embroider, often taking brief apprenticeships with other makers. Most everything they wear is handmade or otherwise customized with this varied interest in creative arts, and while Art considers it something of a dream come true to have their new life and run their shop, they worry deeply about the fate of the people they left behind.
Songs for Dusk:
Weird Science by Oingo Boingo
(From my heart and from my hand, why don't people understand my intentions?)
Too Tired to Wink by Ludo
(I'm sloughin' brain cells every day, smearing the globe, my lobe frontally frayed)
Bloody Nose by Jack Conte
(With your tattered clothes and your bloody nose, aren't you glad to be rid of the smell? Not at all? Not at all)
One-eyed Maestro by Kevin MacLeod
(royalty-free in-campaign theme song)
Songs for Art:
Scary World by Steam Powered Giraffe
('Cause I'm safe right here, we know who we are, and It's kind of scary thinking of what is out there…)
Unlikely Hero by the Hoosiers
(I like everybody, but not everybody likes me! My love's not an island, it's the tip of a volcano!)
Journey of the Featherless by Cloud Cult
(I say that it's worth dreamin' just for the dream of it, it's all about passion, it's all about perception)
Padanaya Blokov by Kevin MacLeod
(shop's theme song!)
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Hello again! @the-invisible-introvert-2004 Because this time my brain was still racing with excitement. So I will continue writing about Fidelza's aunt. and his bodyguards, and let's get to know their names.
(Thank you for the picture from SB @newmria from X. You can follow her. My sister drew it for me.)
First row :
Firmin Jean
french
ErrorEffect /EE(name of our novel's special power) : Pause.
Type: Floy (I'll explain it later when I write the history of this story)
Ability: When touching a living creature or human being (only), the target person will be "paused" of their movement until Firmin will unleash the power of EE. He is the first mercenary hired and becomes the head bodyguard for the current CEO of Allmind Company.
Firmin is a quiet person who speaks when asked. He is loyal to the organization, earning him the nickname Agent Smith because he always wears sunglasses. He also has the ability to cook food at the level of a 5-star restaurant and has excellent close-quarters combat skills. He respects the CEO so much that he is nicknamed “The CEO's favorite dog” If the CEO wants to make something disappear, he can make the problem disappear as well.
There are rumors that Firmin and the CEO are probably secretly dating each other. Firmin lives with the CEO because he was hired to protect the CEO's niece (Fidelza Hunter), which is...somewhat true, but not related. Because Firmin is the only one who has feelings for the CEO, because he is too afraid that he will be a "psychopath" because his cell phone has secretly taken pictures of the CEO, filling up the phone's memory.
Oya/Oney Rosalind
African
EE: N/A
Oya or Oney was a female warrior from an ancient tribe in Africa. (A fictional tribe in my novel) She and all the warriors were hired by The "mysterious organization" asks people to help fight in the war of judgment according to the tribe's beliefs in exchange for water and food to survive the vultures in the village. Unaware that the “mysterious organization” is a terrorist who wants to blame the tribe for the Peace Tower bombing. (You can think of it as 9/11.)
Oney was one of the few survivors of the explosion and the collapse of the building. before being sent to prison After that incident, the people of the world and the relatives of the deceased wanted to erase her tribe from history until now there were only 20 families left and wandering refugees. Oney became the bodyguard of Allmind's CEO, according to a survivor's testimony. who spoke of survival by she protected them with her body, While she was seriously injured, she had scars all over her body.
The company's CEO paid bail (and bribed some officials), and Oney was freed and came to work as a secretary. combined with the ability to organize schedules makes CEO who doesn't want to have problems with CPS regarding the niece who required psychiatric treatment at that time was able to take the niece into care. Oney also serves as a consultant and interpreter in the native language for the CEO when he travels around Africa, thus receiving an additional salary.
Fidelza Hunter liked the legends and stories of Oney's tribe very much and often asked her to tell her legends and folktales. Oney is a woman of few words. and was not good at expressing emotions because of the emotional pain of seeing so many people dead in the building collapse incident and news of the extermination of her own tribe herself didn't know that she was being flirted by her colleague.
Second row:
Fidelza Hunter
(Since we already know about her, we'll pass!)
Victor Radnar or Mr. Vic
American
EE : N\A
Victor Radnar, or Mr. Vic, is Fidelza's mother's younger brother. Ragnar's heir and the current CEO of Allmind Company He is considered to be the most famous and youngest billionaire in history. before becoming CEO and receiving wealth from the Radnar family circle Mr. Vic met with contempt. Physical and verbal abuse This makes him hate people with special powers who abuse their power and power. (He doesn't hate everyone with special powers.)
Because he doesn't have good human relationships with other humans. (He prefers to stay in his office 24/7) so he hires mercenaries. and former prisoners of serious crimes become their own people so they can spend time with his own niece to prevent CPS from taking niece from him. Because he knew who had kidnapped his sister (Fidelza's mother) but had no evidence.
Mr. Vic is a workaholic who is so focused on his work that he can survive on coffee. and instant noodles Fidelza is worried, so she always takes care of Mr. Vic's coffee intake. However, he has little interest in the opposite sex because he is gay. (One of the reasons why he was bullied while in school until university) thus causing Vic to not easily open up to anyone, even to his niece, who is his only remaining family. except for my own sister
Ms. Vic is also aware of “him” (who is “believed” to be Fidelza's imaginary friend) and is upset that her niece is dating a long-distance boyfriend. But because he saw that his niece was happy with a healthy relationship, he chose to keep an eye on his niece's boyfriend. And secretly planned the murder of Lev King with his accomplice, Firmin. But at this time there was no satisfactory murder plan, so Lev King's head had not yet come off his neck.
Last row:
Asmon Saika
german
EE : Stamina
Type : IGES
Abilities: When using her special powers, Asmon can use her stamina for 3 hours, but cannot make her power increase, so she uses her special powers for speed instead. This allows her to run almost as fast as a Formula 1 car. But when in this special power, the body will release a lot of heat from the spine. She couldn't wear shirts or shoes (Asmon always wore shirts showing off her back) because the heat would melt most of her clothing.
Asmon is hired by Vic as a driver because of her knowledge and ability to drive fast cars. And Mr. Vic is looking for volunteers to test out the company's new equipment. (Allmind is a major technology development company that has made the Ragnar family world-class millionaires.) Asmon wears a special suit under the CEO's driver's uniform for emergencies.
Asmon is a bright and cheerful young woman. But she's insecure about her height (she's 143 centimeters tall), so she likes to look at magazines that sell high-heeled shoes in order to be as tall as Oney. But she often forgets because she is more interested in car engines. Most of the money was spent maintaining the CEO's car's engine and customizing her motorcycle. Asmon is the one who notices that Firmin "might" have a crush on Vic, so she often bothers Firmin about this. But it's not because she secretly likes Firmin. But because she wanted to blackmail him. Which at present has not been successful at all.
Jungkun Inis
Half-Korean and half-Irish
EE : Filter
Type : Floy
Ability: Can create illusions of people, animals, or things that the target cannot see or see. But when touched, the “filter” will disappear. and can also trick the eyes of CCTV cameras or photographs and a video camera that records events that occur when using "filters" as well. Jungkun was once an official who was allowed to use special powers in public before he was arrested for attacking an employee.
He was also suspected of falsifying evidence, causing him to be sent to prison while awaiting trial. So he got to know Oya or “Oney” (he called her Oney because it was easier) and when Oney received a job from Mr. Vic as a secretary. She introduced Jungkun to Mr. Vic, who accepted a job as a makeup artist. (Mr. Vic's face is very tired from lack of sleep, causing him to have to hire a makeup artist when appearing in the media or attending social events.)
He was then bailed out by Mr. Vic and came to work at Allmind Company as well as Oney. causing him to try to flirt with her But because he's not good at romance, he doesn't do anything that seems romantic. As a result, he often buys her gifts that make him think of Oney. Like the brooch pendant that Oney currently wears while working and is the only piece of jewelry she wears regularly because she likes it. And because he knew that Oney was not good at expressing herself,so he was not in a hurry to confess his love either. So only Fidelza and Asmon sat and waited for the ship to continue sailing.
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hey puts, the captain of kalafina fandom XD
i came across this instagram post which i think its talking about backstage stuff about wakana circulating in 2-chan.
this is the post https://www.instagram.com/p/Bvy3CuchT-D/
can you share your thoughts about it ? or maybe you can help us what are they actually talking about since we can only use google translate.
Hello there, anon!
Ugh, you are throwing me a curve-ball here, I did not expect to get a question like this. Already feeling exhausted just thinking about writing my reply T_T
That Instagram post is from spring 2019, a - what I consider to be - particularly dark period in the Kalafina fandom. Wakana was in the midst of preparing for her first grand-scale solo tour after her official solo debut and Space Craft finally put their act together by releasing an official statement regarding Kalafina's state of limbo. In an attempt to put an end to a lot of uncertainty/speculation and to create a clear distinction between Kalafina and Wakana's solo activities, they declared a definitive disbandment. As you can imagine, everyone and their mother had something to say about that. Even Yuki Kajiura, Hikaru and Keiko made statements in response. All of this caused a lot of backlash against Space Craft and particularly towards Wakana herself. The fact that Wakana was still with Space Craft and dared to not address the announcement of Kalafina's disbandment with a statement of her own made many so-called fans very angry and disappointed - totally unwarranted of course.
Suddenly, there was an influx of certain internet trolls who got a real kick out of blaming and villainising Wakana, they made her into the bad guy and came up with a bunch of wild theories that mainly served the purpose of dragging Wakana's name and image through the mud. Needless to say, none of those claims were in any way, shape or form substantiated but as is the case with all negative content on the internet, it drew quite a bit of attention and some people even started buying into that bullshit. The Instagram user you linked to in your ask is a textbook example of one such troll. At that time, a handful of sock puppet accounts were created to feed into the smear campaign against Wakana. Those accounts regularly left nasty comments under Wakana's Instagram posts, pretending to be devastated fans and referring to all sorts of horrible things that Wakana had allegedly done. Most of those posts and accounts got rightfully flagged and suspended but some apparently managed to stay around for a while. They tried to continue their toxic behaviour but once they realised that Wakana's loyal fans would not stand for such horrible defamation tactics, most of them just disappeared again.
As for the information supposedly circulating on 2chan, I honestly give little to no credence to anything that is being said on anonymous text-boards like 2chan or its successor 5chan. As much as the Japanese are known for being overly polite and reserved, they can be incredibly nasty when they are allowed to act anonymously. I reckon about 10% of users who frequently post on these types of text-boards are actually decent human beings. 60% of them are either mentally handicapped, bored out of their minds or simply frustrated with their lives. The remaining 30% are scum of the earth sociopaths as far as I am concerned.
In order to do some research for this post, I went through a few old threads about Wakana containing hundreds upon hundreds of messages. I literally felt my brain cells dying with every new message I read. No idea how others manage to subject themselves to this level of stupidity but I really struggle to tolerate it. Out of curiosity, I would have liked to find a "source" for the specific accusations in that Instagram post but alas, I wasn't able to. There's just no way I can go through everything, sorry. Also, I will not dignify any of these messages or that Instagram post with a proper translation.
Believe me when I say that there is no incriminating material on Wakana out there, these people have zero authentic evidence (photo or otherwise) of her being a "stuck-up bitch", of her "mistreating staff members", of her "bashing Hi/Kei" etc. It's all just a ton of made-up gossip and rubbish. Everyone, please do yourself a favour and just ignore content like this when you come across it. Knowing what those people have to say does not add any value to your life, quite the contrary, it will only poison your brain.
That's honestly all I have to say about this topic.
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The Favour (a Ross Gaines x Joseph Lisgoe fanfic)
What if Pauline refused to help Ross in season 3 episode 1 and she left before that very scarring scene ever happened? In this version, he decides to call in the help of an old acquaintance
This one is a little more ✨spicy✨ than my other fics, but it's just fade-to-black, I'm not quite brave enough to write actual smut
I love how well these GIFs go together, like Ross just made a smug comment and Lisgoe's sick of his crap 😆
**********************************************
"I've come here on my fucking time off, so this better be important."
Ross couldn't remember when he started being on speaking terms with Joseph Nigel Lisgoe, but it happened. They weren't friends, but they also weren't exactly enemies. Well, Ross thought Lisgoe was a sadistic cretin who used violence to make up for his lack of brain cells, and Lisgoe thought Ross was an arrogant bastard with no concernable personality. Other than that, they didn't hate each other
Hence why Ross didn't see an issue with enlisting his help. Since he didn't have his number, he had to track down and slip a note under his office door that read I need your help, we'll discuss at my house followed by his address
Which is how he got here, face-to-face with a very unhappy Lisgoe at his front door
"Make yourself at home."
Ignoring this statement (which he could tell was merely being said out of politeness), Lisgoe all but barged past and leaned against a counter in the kitchen
"Your house reminds me of you: dead on the inside."
"I didn't invite you here to insult me."
"Couldn't you at least have gotten dressed? You look like a right twat in that dressing gown."
"I think," Ross said as he went to the cupboard and poured them both a glass of wine "that we should focus on the real reason I asked you here."
Lisgoe curled his upper lip slightly, as if he would rather have been anywhere else at this point, but took the glass anyway. He took a sip, watching Ross closely
"You gonna tell me or am I supposed to guess?"
"Someone I hired for an undercover job has decided to go against me."
"Fucking hell, OK James Bond!"
This was met with a glare, not that Lisgoe seemed to be all that bothered. In fact, he has a shit-eating grin on his face that suggested he found this whole thing funny
"I don't know why you're laughing."
"You're so far up your own arse, no wonder you talk a load of shite!"
"I'm going to ignore that. All I'm asking is for you to get rid of her, I'm sure that won't be too taxing on you, what with the very little brain power you possess."
"I'm not a contract killer." Lisgoe put his glass down on the counter "I may be a crazy bastard, but I'm not some assassin."
"You're the only one with enough of a craving for violence and lack of empathy to do it."
There was a pause. Lisgoe took another swig of wine
He'd never admit it out loud, but it was refreshing to have someone challenge him. As much as he liked being the one everyone feared, there was something about Ross' lack of fear that both frustrated him and kept him oddly entertained
"What's in it for me?"
Ross considered his answer, but his thoughts were somewhat hazy, clearly more interested in why Lisgoe was staring at him. He was completely unreadable, which was off-putting to say the least. And yet it, for some reason, made him feel more drawn to him. He wanted to know what it would take to make him snap - what he would do when he did
"Who says you're getting anything?"
"I'm not doing this shite for free." Lisgoe sneered, taking a step towards him "It comes with a price."
They weren't incredibly close, but it was enough for Ross to briefly catch his scent. Sharp, spicy cologne which seemed to fuse with the underlying leftovers of cigarette smoke. It wouldn't be much of a surprise if he'd smoked before he came here; he could see it now, Joseph Lisgoe outside the door with a cigarette in his mouth... sucking it gently... his eyes closing as the smoke fell from his lips
Ross put an end to that thought immediately
"I could tip off the police to the rumours going around Royston Vasey about your violent tendancies, I'd say guess how many years you'd get," he put a hand on Lisgoe's shoulder and looked at him with pure mockery in his eyes "but I'd hate for you to hurt your head."
"You'd tell the police, would you?" Lisgoe retorted in a soft voice that made it sound more like a dare than a question
"What if I did?"
Despite not being the most intellectual of people, Lisgoe could read emotions on their faces and bodies easily. It's what he used to get under people's skin before he inevitably threw a punch. There was a stillness in Ross' body language that told him he was telling the truth - he respected that, in a way. Another thing he caught onto was Ross' eyes. They seemed to drag their way up and down his frame, meeting his eyes with a subtle, sharp intake of breath. He was being looked at in a way that was rare for him, yet something in him was very satisfied that it was directed to him alone
But there was something else. Something of a spark in his eyes, something that said I'm onto you
He wasn't about to give him the upper hand
"I don't ask for much." His voice was softer, slightly rough "But, if you need me as badly as you clearly fucking do, then you'll have to convince me."
"That depends on two factors: what you want, and how you want me to convince you?" Ross chewed his lower lip, an action that caused Lisgoe's jaw to tighten
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
Satisfied with the edge he'd taken from him, Ross put down his glass. As he did, he made sure to let his hand brush against Lisgoe's, relishing in the way he jolted away
"There's a grand history of people who, daggers drawn, eventually find each other attractive." He said innocently, tilting his head to the side slightly as he stared into dusty blue eyes "What do you think, Joseph?"
Nobody called him Joseph
It's was Lisgoe or, if you worked for him, Mr. Lisgoe. A silent agreement among the inhabitants of Royston Vasey. He didn't know what was worse: the fact Ross had the balls to break that rule, or the fact it sounded so nice in his voice
"I think you need to remember who you're talking to. You might get away with saying what you like to the thick pigs at the dole house, but I'm not that easily fucked with."
The venom in Lisgoe's voice shouldn't have affected Ross the way it did. He wasn't scared, but it pierced through his chest and pumped molten fire through his body
"I assume," He put his hand deliberately over the man's wrist, his voice steady "you know what you want in return for all of this?"
Lisgoe took a step forward and stared. It was like he was considering not the offer, but him. Finally, he spoke again:
"Anywhere between 10,000 and 20,000 is great."
"Excuse me?" Was Ross' response, trying not to look too disappointed as Lisgoe pulled away "You expect me to pay you that amount for one simple task?"
"You're not asking me to have a little chat, are you? You want me to get rid of a bitch, and the fact you contacted me means you want it to hurt."
"You're hardly worth the oxygen I breathe, let alone £10-20,000."
"You've got a set of balls, haven't you?"
"I want you to leave."
"Now hold your fucking horses, I'm not done!"
He moved over to the address book on the table and opened it, slightly surprised by how empty it was. Surely this guy knew more people than WORK and MOTHER
"So, is your dad an asshole? Or is he dead?"
"What are you doing?" Ross asked, clearly not appreciating the question
"You got a pen?"
"Don't pretend you can write."
"Fuck off and get me a pen! Wait, shut up..."
"I didn't say-"
"Here's one."
Lisgoe had taken a pen from inside his suit jacket and scrawled something onto the page. Upon inspection, Ross noticed it was a phone number with the initials JNL next to it
"As a debt collector, I never like doing favours without getting something in return."
"And what exactly do you have in mind? If it's more money, I'm out."
"You doing anything tonight?"
Of all the things he expected to hear, that wasn't one of them. Regardless, he shook his head neutrally
"I'll be back in an hour." Lisgoe put the pen down on the table "For the love of shite, get dressed."
"What's the occasion?" Ross sneered in response
"The occasion is, when I get back, I'm doing whatever the fuck I want with you."
Ross' chest caved in. He couldn't think of the worse reason: actual fear or... OK, maybe the second option. Either way, he was trying not to show it on his face
"What exactly are you implying?"
That made Lisgoe laugh a little. Ross went to question him, but was quickly silenced by being tugged by his dressing gown into a searing kiss. It was forceful, not that it came as a surprise - this was Lisgoe, after all. And Ross certainly wasn't complaining. Especially not when his lower lip was being pulled between Lisgoe's teeth
"Unless you have another stupid question, I'll see you later today"
Before he could turn and go, Ross had grabbed him by the wrist
"You said earlier that a debt collector always gets something in return, would you also say they'd rather get it in a timely manner?"
"I don't remember what I said, but sure. What's your point?"
"There's clearly something between us. A certain... heat-"
"Alright, Ozzy Wilde."
"Oscar Wilde, but that's beside the point. What I'm saying is what's the point in waiting for it to cool down?" In a moment of boldness, Ross reached for Lisgoe's jacket. Without breaking eye contact for more than a second, he unbuttoned it slowly "Unless you're too scared to-"
Once again, his words were cut short and Lisgoe's mouth was on his. It was frantic and raw, neither one of them was interested in being gentle. Ross' hands were warm, Lisgoe's skin was cold, which came together to form what could only be described as electricity. Without breaking the kiss, Lisgoe was being pushed against the kitchen counter and, well, Ross was dropping to his knees to return a favour
*********************************************
"So, what's the bitch's name again?" Lisgoe asked as he threaded his belt through the loops of his trousers
"Pauline Campbell-Jones," Ross sat down on his sofa "she's completely egregious. She's violent, foul-tempered and vulgar."
"Right, I suppose you only find those traits sexy in men."
"Let's make this clear, I only did that to pay you back."
Lisgoe didn't know why he got the urge to ask, but he sat down beside Ross and looked at him with slightly furrowed brows
"Do you fuck everyone that you ask to favours?"
"No."
"So I'm a special case?"
Ross looked Lisgoe up and down contemplatively, then replied "Yes."
"Can you say anything else? One-word responses piss me off."
There was another silence. Ross stared at the wall, thinking things through. OK yes, maybe part of the reason was to get Lisgoe on board with his plan, but did he enjoy it? Maybe he did. So what? Since when did sex mean anything? That being said, even with all that aside, Lisgoe wasn't completely insufferable to be around. In fact, he was one of the few inhabitants of Royston Vasey that he could see as being something of an equal to him
"We don't have to be strangers, I suppose. You did give me your number for some reason."
"Ignore it then," Lisgoe shrugged as he got up "I just gave it to you so I could tell when I was done with her."
Then there was an odd moment of pause
Ross stood up and they were facing each other. It was awkward and tense, but not altogether unpleasant. Just strange. Almost as if neither of them were in a rush for it to be over
Suddenly, Lisgoe snapped out of it and headed for the front door. Ross went to let him out. It was all very formulaic, as if nothing happened between them. And surely, that's all it was
Nothing at all
Once he'd gone, Ross went back into the kitchen area and looked at the number written into his book. Then he saw it
Lisgoe had left his pen behind
If he hurried, he could probably catch up and give it to him. Or he could wait for him to realise and come back for it
Ah well, what's the rush?
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I dont know much about The Selection so forgive me for the out of context plot but imagine KSP running to find a secret hide out the second they step foot in the castle and run into each other, where they bond over their shared disinterest of the brothers and united in their desire to raise their levels. I can imagine them agreeing to use the Selection to gain popularity without having to marry any of the brothers and hopefully up their levels. But obviously it backfires because their blatant disregard and disinterest of the brothers is what draws said brothers in like 'oooh pretty lady does not like me? SHE'S PERFECT'
And so for the entirety of the Selection (or maybe after months of denying their desires then finally admitting their desires), the ABC Brothers are running around chasing KSP with their tails wagging, and a shared brain cell revved up to the max. All the while their future wives chosen contestants are doing their best hiding, dodging and pushing the other contenders to them in a futile effort to throw the brothers of their trail.
Also, DEFGH are laughing their asses of on the sidelines at the tomfoolery their brothers are making and to up the chaos, half of them are matchmaking while the others are c0ckblocking their brothers (and vice versa) just for funsies.
To be honest, this isn't so far out of the norm from the book. So for some context for those not familiar with the Selection, our main characters meet when America, our female lead, has a panic attack her first night and tries to get out to the garden but they're not allowed outside on their own. The prince, Maxon and our male lead, sees this and demands the guards let her go out, that he'll be with her so it's allowed. She actually kicks Maxon in the groin at one point during this first meeting, and the man still falls in love. They strike up a friendship and a deal that while she's still in the competition, she'll basically be his inside informant. So much potential before Aspen made it messy.
In our au this is how I see it working out.
So Kate, Sophie, and Penelope live in neighboring territories so they travel together to the palace. They talk about their jobs, bookkeeping for Kate, maid for Sophie, and dancing for Penelope. They all shyly admit to one another that they're mainly in this competition to help raise their quality of life within the caste system. They also confide in one another while either chose their prince at random or someone else chose for them.
Kate has an excellent mind for business, and an excellent reputation as a bookkeeper, but due to her being a 4 she can't really rise any higher than where's she at. She relaxes by doing watercolors.
Sophie has a passion for art and finds comfort in it, even though so many look down at he for being a 6. She doesn't really care what she ends up doing after, maybe she'll teach, she's just relieved that she made it this far and automatically now a three.
Penelope dances as a 5, performing with her younger sister Felicity who sets up paintings for Penelope to move the paint around as she dances. Though her real talent is in writing the story she and Felicity does. She is thankful she could consider pursuing it further now that she's a three.
They're thankfully taken together to the same makeup artist and designer to get them ready for the first day of interviews. They keep talking to one another and thankfully keeps all of them calm, less likely to clam up when the official cameras turns on them. After each girl's interview they are left to their own devices for the day in the shared drawing room where each girl can hang out in, and their official meeting place. They are given out a schedule as well, meal times, one on ones. social events, classes to teach them things such as palace etiquette.
The girls are also happy to find they will be rooming together. Usually each girl gets their own room but since there are triple the contestants this Selection it was decided that one girl from each princes' selection would be rooming together until enough girls were eliminated to spread them each to their own rooms.
With the news, Kate, Sophie, and Penelope made a pact that they would look out for one another so long as they were in the competition. None of them think they'll be here that long, especially when it's time to pick the ten Elites, but they are already planning on some collaborations and friendships for their future. They're basically gonna network for all their worth while they're there.
Unknown to any of the girls the judging of the Selection has already begun. The royal family and the three of the princess' fiancés sat in a private drawing room where they watched each girl from the official and unofficial cameras.
"Well those three have some sense," Eloise laughed as the unofficial cameras picked up on three of the girls' conversation. "They don't want any of you."
"Eloise," Daphne swatted at her sister.
"It is rather interesting," Simon said, speaking to his best friend, Anthony.
"It is indeed," Anthony said.
Notes were being made on each girl, Gregory and Hyacinth would call out if any comments from the public online were of any interest of the girls.
It did not escape the others notice though that the three princes kept their eyes trailing back to a certain camera.
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Personal Retrospective on the final chapter mess and the never ending feeling of frustration
I just wanted to write how I found closure with all this mess. Even though it's adressed to IR fans, this post is mosty anti bleach ending coded. It's not an ichiruki meta.
Warning long post
I guess in order to follow my train of thoughts, I'll have to establish first that I'm certain that Kubo was lying about this being his intended ending. My proof is simply comparing both endings Bleach and his previous manga Zombie Powder.
Why is he lying ? Two reasons. First, he's still on contract with his bosses. Second, he's too proud, he would rather have us hate him than take pity for him.
If you're not convinced, I guess you'll waste your time reading my post because it's based on that general idea.
It's so easy to rant about the ending to the point that it becomes ridiculous
"Ichigo and Rukia are important to each other, but not as important as Orhime and Reji are to them ! They are the love of their life !!"
Meanwhile, during the arc that officialized those pairings, Ichigo doesn't consider the abduction of the said love of his life a moment where he felt despair ( not #1 place not #2 place not even in "the bunch of other moments from there to there" place )
and Rukia doesn't recall one single happy memory with the said love of her life whom she had known for +100 years. ( She had only one significant moment with Orhime where the latter expressed her vulnerability to her and by that scene alone, Orihme out-bested that jobber and people are comparing that shit pairing to ichiruki let's see at first if it can out pass rukihhime then we will talk)
"Ichiruki fans are so toxic. The reason Ichigo and Rukia's feeling aren't as explicit as Reji's and Orhime's is because Bleach is not a shojo !! Kubo was also short in time he couldn't solve all those plot holes, let alone romance. Anyway, he doesn't know how to write romance to begin with. It's not like he can sum up the feeling of love and devotion in like two panels"
Meanwhile Kubo :
If you're interested, here is my favorite anti ending meta o n e / t w o
Anyway, what I mean, you can state 1000 problems with this ending, and it's still never enough to the point that I asked myself : what am I really trying to prove ?
Do I have to prove that ending was intentionally bad ?
No. All the Bleach fans who had at least one brain cell either cried, got frustrated or tried to smash their computer/smart phone when reading the last chapter. You don't have to be Einstein to understand that even when a writer was short on time even if he was crawling himself because of his sickness, there are million alternative ways to end a manga than this panel.
If people can't comprehend the malice and the utter disrespect towards fans to end a 15 year running manga with this expression, then they should be go back to elementary school to learn basic comprehension skills
The point is, all the sane bleach fans ( yeah I’m shading myself) left this fandom months afterwards because they felt insulted and alienated by this end and swore to never speak about this manga again. They're a vast majority but they don't want to talk about it on social media. Why ? because why bother ? Even if they complain, what's going to change? Who are they trying to convince ? The only one whose opinion is crucial is Kubo and he showed them by that panel how blatantly he was aware he was writing cr0ap. So what’s the point anyway ?
Do I have to teach the new IR fans that they shouldn't accept this end easily and they have every reason to love ichiruki ?
No, simply because I'm not a preacher. Whether they accept it or not, it won't change my feelings for IR.
Do I have teach the new readers to not let the official end influence their reading experience ?
Well, putting my self in their shoes, it’s hard to fathom that a writer could do scorched earth policy on his life achievement out of pettiness. It's obvious for some of us since we have known him for years, read every one of his controversial statements. However, it will be miracle to convince new readers. Moreover, I can't understand how can people choose to read a 696 chapter manga that has no story resolution ...like...have some ... self-love ?
(the +10 chapters are Turn Back the Pendulum arc btw)
Do I have to paint myself as the good and wise Ichiruki fan in front of people who "don't like ichiruki because of the shippers" ?
This is the most ridiculous argument to hate a pairing. Just say you don't dare to go against the wave and get out. As far as I'm concerned, the essence of shipping has always been egocentric people self inserting themselves in a fictional character and imposing feelings on them based on one’s mindset and reading comprehension. Whatever is the pairing, shipping fandom will never not be unhinged.
As a matter of fact, when I realized that ichiruki might be one of the aspects that interests to me the most in Bleach, I read some IR vs IH forums and I was disgusted by the offensive language from both sides : people insulting each other over lines on papers was beyond me.
However, I didn't think ill of the pairing itself because no one understands it better than Kubo. So all I did was re-reading their scenes comparing them to other relationships and Kawaichappy was a true blessing. She / he made me love Ichiruki more that I could ever imagine.
I refuse to be a pawn in this viscous circle that Kubo set us to. I think the best solution to cut this chain is not forgiving him or feeling pity for him but to stop holding a grudge against him (even though you have every right to) and just let it go. That's why, I chose to see the good side of things.
1)
When Bleach was getting cancelled, Kubo could have saved his ass by making ichiruki p0rk and throwing an IR baby at us. While the majority of fans won’t be happy with the plot holes like it's the case with the official end, a good portion could derive some satisfaction for this sort of conclusion thanks to Ichigo and Rukia's undeniable chemistry.
Moreover, more than half of merchandise were ichiruki coded at that time and even now btw . But he didn't do that, and for that reason alone, he has my respect and I never spoke ill of him. As far as I'm concerned, if he did make IR p0rk, I won't even send him "death threats", I will fly to Japan, strangle him and honeslty will never speak about IR or bleach ever again.
2)
The second reason why I don’t hold any grudge towards him is thanks to this
You guys can’t even understand how much this page made me happy.
As you know, the "All Stars" double page is drawn at the beginning of every volume and the pictures used above the name of the main characters of every volume are obviously panels featured in the same volume.
However, volume 74 was the exception. Orhime and Rukia's panels are not in this book. Oihime's innocent smile is from volume 73 and Rukia's defiant look from volume 59 (chapter 628) !!!
This can’t not be unintentional.
It basically means that Rukia and Orhime were not featured in this volume. The characters posing as them in volume 74 are imposters.
This is so ridiculously funny. Every time, I read 'xx married xxx', I respond smugly " you sure about that ? based on your precious final canon volume, the last time we saw Rukia is in volume 59 and Orhime in 73."
He's basically saying :" this is Rukia Kuchiki the brave and fierce woman you have always loved, don't let that cheap representation fools you. "
And " This is Orhime Inoue the innocent girl you knew all along, who is selfishly ignoring she is basically in a battlefield, beaming from happiness like a child because she is yearning from all her heart to feel loved and validated. Don't let that cheap representation fools you"
Honestly, Kubo didn't need to do that. The fact that he still cared about my favorite character Rukia to the point of explicitly dissociating her along with Orhime from this mess still makes me so happy to this day.
I love Ichiruki but I like Orhime more than Ichigo. So Kubo not bothering with Ichigo doesn't annoy me one bit. It's rather hilarious
3)
The third and final reason is the final volume cover, I made a meta about it years ago
IR fam, some of you may think you got the shortest end of the stick with this ending. But, believe me you have the greatest advantage of all. :
you don't have to associate yourself with anything about that ending.
You don't have to associate yourself with this :
The execution place that represents Soul Society corruption and rotten system became more menacing than it ever was
but you will always be linked to Ichigo being the hero who will" pass even through 100 billion blades" to save Rukia unshamedly defying million years of corruption.
You don't have to associate yourself with a pairing where the girl has known the guy for 100 years and he has never made her happy one micro second for all those years.
And you certainly don't have to associate yourself with a pairing that got canon in the same page as this abomination was written
and whose child is undoubtedly getting molested by his aunt probably explains why he's a creep btw
People doesn't even realize how insulting it is for Bleach that Yuzu, out of all the characters, was represented this way in the final conclusion
In the first chapter, Ichigo was hesitant to let Rukia stab him with her sword. He was scared shitless even though his family were literaly half dead and Rukia was injured because of him ... yep your hero ladies and gentlemen. It was Yuzu's bravery, selflessness and love for her brother that made him accept this life changing decision.
When the guy didn't have the courage to be the main character and to start off the manga in the first place but it was his little sisters' bravery that inspired him to take the first step then it was Rukia's ethics in the second chapter that shaped his idea of how an ideal hero should be.
Don't you love it when Bleach was supporting women supremacy ?
... Good old days indeed.
The second reason why you shouldn't feel petty about your otp not being canon in this fake ending is you know who should be frustated ? Kubo.
He may act tough, shitposting himself and pulling cr*p from there to there but you can't convince me that seeing his manga torn and burned, getting insults from everywhere (even though he deserves it) didn't have any effect on him.
Obviously, we felt alienated reading the last chapter but imagine the guy who created those characters that had been living in his mind for 15 years, imagine feeling alienated by what you had created.
I remember reading somewhere that during Fade to Black writting process, he sat in a corner, was frustrated with himself because he couldn't figure out what kind of name Rukia would think is suitable for those siblings. He was determined to dive into Rukia's character and find out what kind of name SHE would like. He cared so much about staying true to her character.
Sure he was frustrated, angry at everyone. Sure he wanted to burn everything down before getting cancelled. But you can't convince me that the love he once had for his life achievement vanished completly
You can't convince me that he didn't hope that things were concluded in better circumstances.
In a way, you may feel sad for IR not having a decent closure. But bear in mind, no one is more petty than Kubo and his constant self sabotage since 2016 is the proof.
Final conclusion, ichiruki is one of the best fictional pairing ever written and it deserved the best and obviously not to be linked to that ending.
We have always been fans of the love, whether platonic or romantic, that Rukia and Ichigo have for each other. The love they shared together that made them have the desire to love themselves and the courage to hope.
I guess the best tribute for this kind of relationship is to express our love for them how much they meant to us and not to succumb to negativity
Because negativity is only reserved to the man who doomed his life achievement.
#ichiruki#anti bleach ending#of course if you want to write salt then it's your choice not judging you everyone has his own experience with this manga
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Maybe it's just me, but I never found TSC villains compelling.
Most of them were either Cartoonish or uninteresting. Some of them were interesting at the beginning and lost the spark because of the pathetic job CC did in providing them proper page time.
My problem with her characters is not about them being the typical comic villains. Instead, they are soo poorly written and are only considered cunning because CC is dumb....ahem... What I mean is that they do not have enough brain cells to be considered cunning, definitely not as crafty as the writing suggests (they are vicious, yes. But that's a fundamental quality of a villain).
Valentine - the most intelligent, charming, manipulative, always 10 steps ahead - could not think that summoning an Angel (a heavenly being more powerful than he could ever be) and asking it a favour without offering any deal/ sacrifice or having a plan B was dumb? Why didn't he even think for a sec that even if Raziel doesn't know about Ithuriel's imprisonment and all, summoning an entity that can kill you easily could be risky? It's not even a last-minute plan, it's what he had been working for throughout the 1st, 2nd and 3rd books.
Also, if he has the power to capture Ithuriel, a powerful angel (as far as I know), then why not use that power to capture Raziel or why not use Ithuriel's blood to create a new race of half angels that he could control and use to wage war against other shadow hunters?
Sebastian: I never took him seriously. He was just...there obsessing over the main characters because that's what villains do. I did not feel sad (not even a little bit sad) when he died. I don't think he's as complex or as sympathetic as the fandom makes him to be.
Axel Mortmain: Seriously, do people even know TID has a Villain? I do. I'm not happy about it! Frankly speaking, Mortmain did spark my interest when he was revealed to be the bad guy at the end of the first book.
The reason for that: He's just a rich, immortal Mundane against Shadowhunters. He managed to manipulate powerful Downworlders like de Quincy. After reading all about how Mundanes are weak and inferior to the SH in TMI, I thought it would be nice to see a Mundane being a threat to the Shadowhunters. He was the only one with some level of intellect among all the villains in the TSC world. At least, that's what I thought when I finished CoA.
Of course, that interest died quickly when he was only used for causing more drama in a love triangle. CC didn't even pretend she cared about the plot or other characters.
Malcolm& Anabel are Ok-ish...I guess. Once again, neither left a strong impression on me, but I could see why someone else might like them. Or show sympathy for their backstory.
psttttt.........There's a villain called Shinyun...do you know that? Easily the most forgettable character I've ever read.
Tatiana: She had a sympathetic backstory but was a hilariously dumb villain. Once again, a character was established as cunning but only "cunning" because the other characters are stupid. The narration considers her cunning in the way Clave is considered Stupid.
Tatiana and Zara have something in common: both function as the "straw characters". Zara exists as a representation of people who criticize CC's romantic arcs. Tatiana had a motivation behind her hatred. However, from time to time, she was still used as a straw character. I never understood why she specifically said, "Herondales have dominated Shadowhunters history, there should've been more lightwoods". When she clearly hated Lightwoods too. That was oddly specific.
Belial: ugh.....where should I even begin...? Now, I didn't expect him to be a complex villain. But as THE PRINCE OF HELL, I expected a few brain cells from him. Turns out he's the dumbest Villain to ever exist. Now. I'm not going into details as you didn't finish ChoT.
It makes me wonder how TWP Villains are going to be? I'm assuming there would be a lot of Villains...I hope at least some of them are crafty, vicious and would feel like an actual threat to the characters.
Lmao, It's quite lengthy.
Anyway, Thanks for reading.
You’re definitely not alone in that. I agree 100 %. One of my favorite topics are the terrible cartoon villains that appear on the pages of these books. I once wrote in a post about Benedict Lightwood and Tatiana that the villains are characters who are reduced to few oversimplified evil traits and their villainy is over-exaggerated.
As characters they’ve essentially become a combination of both oversimplification and exaggeration, which makes them more caricatures of villains rather than believably motivated, individual characters. […] These character exhibit the degree of nastiness that primarily serves to enhance the goodness, moral superiority, and righteousness of the protagonists. Their lacking complexity is partly a result of this objective. Another part to this is the unwillingness in the narrative to accept the villain as wholly human person. They lack proper motivation or basis outside of being evil for the sake of being evil. They have no inner life and all their time is dedicated to their evil deeds and self-serving purposes. Writing villains like these is also a result of overly simplistic understanding of certain characters for which the narrative then ignores the complexities inherent in each individual person—even the bad ones.
The level of awfulness of these villains is something no sensible member of the Clave would deem as alright. They aren’t slick, charismatic, or suave enough for the readers or the Good Guys to be blinded by their malicious intentions, so why are the rest of the members of the Clave blind to it? These villains aren’t that intelligent and cunning. Their intelligence and cunning should be achieved through skillful use of literary devices, not dumbing down other characters. Having everyone go with their charisma that fools them only because the writing says so gives the other Nephilim bad contrast and is frustrating for readers to wait for them to catch up.
They are villains, they are supposed to be awful doesn’t change the fact that what the writing has produced are walking talking mission statements only meant for spouting out obviously controversial and unacceptable ideologies. This comes from the habit of picking out only easy and surface level aspects to enhance their badness, like sexism, racial supremacy, and homophobia, which any sensible and empathetic reader would obviously strongly disagree with.
Valentine is only intelligent and a smooth talker because Clare just doesn’t write Clary being able to refute any of his arguments while I am doing it for her when reading. It’s all telling and showing, much like the rest of the books but it does a greater disservice to the villains. Here are some links to my other older answers about this topic if you wish to read more of the thoughts:
Sebastian’s potential at compelling villainy and him being EVIL
Thoughts on Sebastian being a villain
Thoughts on Zara being a villain
On Tatiana
A thought about Tatiana
#Valentine Morgenstern#Sebastian Morgenstern#Tatiana Blackthorn#Benedict Lightwood#Zara Dearborn#Series discussion#Reply
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on violent threats
context: see @photomatt 's page
i have said this before but i will say it again: there is a small but very vocal crowd of people on the left who are currently choosing violent methods of protest, including sending online death threats to people they believe to be harmful to an identity/fight they themselves support. this is particularly the case (because i think it's important to state it clearly) with trans rights activism. and, i think it's important to talk about it.
now, as a disclaimer, i support trans rights. because i have more than two brain cells. trans women are women and trans men are men. this isn't the issue. as another disclaimer, it is evident that violent threats are illegal in many jurisdictions, and that many online platforms choose to moderate hate speech to the best of their ability. this is also not the issue. what i'm writing about below is what is morally and ethically justified, rather than legal or illegal. i'm also not writing about online content moderation because while i'd have loads to say about this, it is beyond the scope of this post.
now, as you can probably see from his page, the CEO of tumblr is in the middle of a shit storm for suspending the account of a trans woman who, amongst other things, made public statements falling under tumblr's content moderation policies, namely saying she hoped he'd die in a car crash. i think we can all agree that this isn't nice. on a personal level, having been on the receiving end of similar death threats/posts last may (not that tumblr did anything about it), i know first-hand how damaging those can be for the person on the receiving end. it makes you paranoid. it is scary and hurtful. i also know that simply by posting this post, i am further potentially exposing myself to a resurgence of these. but i also think the below needs to be said and the following question deserves to be answered:
is it right for trans activists to be sending online death threats to people they perceive as being transphobes right now?
i think there is a tendency, for people on the left who consider themselves 'educated' and 'not crazy' to dismiss this extremist fringe. we want to believe we are 'better than this' and that even if violence and threats of violence is a method routinely used by the right, we shouldn't ever lower ourselves to their level. we believe that violence is never right, and we see it as something that will ultimately hurt the causes that we support. i've already talked about this in another post but back in the middle of my own shit storm, i was very hesitant to even say where all the hate i was receiving was coming from. i responded to some of the anons, but initially deleted all the ones i got which were explicitly referencing trans rights. i kept thinking that if i said anything, it would inevitably hurt the cause and reflect badly on all of those who fight for trans rights and acceptance online. because i think we all know that the left is held to a much higher standard than the right in terms of 'distancing' itself from the violence of its most extreme members. and that one anon can be enough to discredit the whole cause in the eyes of some people.
having however reflected on that, i think it's important to acknowledge that, despite what a lot of people on the left seem to think, this use of violence by the most extreme fringes of the left is actually not new. violence and violent threats aren't and have never been the monopoly of the right. historically, many social fights and injustices have been fought and won in blood by forces considered 'left' wing. i have also written about this. at the time, these forces were more focused on things like racial justice, territorial independence, and economic (socialist and communist) struggles, but they have existed, dating as far back as the french revolution. there is a very legitimate argument to be made that historically, violence is necessary to obtain social progress. this debate actually isn't as easy as simply saying: 'violence is never okay.'
the problem with anonymous online death threats, though, is that they aren't designed to fight for a cause, they are designed to scare the victim and obtain revenge. in war, there is a very real difference between dropping a bomb on a site filled with military supplies and killing ten soldiers as a collateral, and dropping a bomb on a family home and making the same number of victims. one is advancing your position in a conflict, the other scares a population into compliance.
with online death threats, it's all very similar. looking at the case at hand, which is trans activism, i don't believe that a single trans activist sending death threats to someone like JKR believes they will change her mind. what they want is to make her feel the way they feel, as trans people who are currently being threatened by transphobes. it is an understandable urge, a human urge, but it is the definition of wanting revenge and to incite fear.
additionally, with online death threats, there is the added factor that the victim of that fear, the person on the receiving end of the threat, is encouraged not to ever respond and/or talk/do anything about it. allegedly, because responding to the anon or retweeting the threat or interacting with it in any way only gives the threat more of an audience and 'attention.' secondly, if the person receiving the threat is famous/rich, because there is a power imbalance in terms of social media clout between the sender of the threat and the receiver. the typical example of this is, again, trans activists sending hate to JKR, her retweeting it, then transphobes going in to harass these accounts as a consequence. i've seen a lot of people argue that celebrities shouldn't be allowed to reblog tweet these threats because they are being unfair to the senders.
aside from the fact that arguing the latter point is absolutely INSANE and that if you're out there playing keyword warrior sending death threats to people you don't know you should be ready to face the consequences of your actions, this culture of secrecy only isolates victims of online hate more. when i ended up on the receiving end of death threats from trans activists myself and i responded to these threats, i received a lot of messages from my friends and followers expressing support. that made me feel less lonely. had i just deleted these from my inbox, i'd have been the only on seeing these, and thus not only scared but also lonely. this is why i am so opposed to this culture of secrecy.
but coming back to the original question, i believe that the problem with violent techniques we're seeing at the moment isn't that they're violent, it is the reason why violence is being invoked. when violence is only aimed at inciting fear and obtaining revenge, historically, there is evidence to the fact that that kind of violence does not work. this method has been trialled and tested by every authoritative government ever, and every single one has eventually failed. you always reach a point where fear isn't enough to prevent a rebellion. and the left loves this idea when it comes to uprisings and revolutions, but it forgets it as soon as it is trying to push for progress. because let me tell you: if you think you can scare transphobes into compliance, you are mistaken. just like they are mistaken when they think they can scare you into compliance.
because the issue is that fear does not breed social progress, it breeds hatred. and, as someone who actually still follows JKR on socials, i have seen this first-hand. the level of hatred she exhibits now towards trans people is on a completely different level, compared to the one expressed in the original essay in 2020. and this is because a) she in turn now feels the very human urge to get revenge and hurt those who hurt her but also b) being on the receiving end of such violence can actually give you the illusion that you are in the right. that you are the one being silenced and oppressed. it is undeniable that she has radicalised herself in her positions in the past four years, and i would argue that is in direct correlation to the amount of hate she has received.
and, putting the JKR issue to the side for a minute, it is also important to note that objectively speaking, these people sending death threats and pretending to be trans activists are fucking stupid. there, i've said it. because, even if you do want to scare people, even if you do believe in inciting fear, what the fuck are you doing sending death threats to Matt Mullenweg?! he's a tech CEO! have you seen the people who work in tech?? i'd say half his employees are LGBTQIA+. of course, he's not transphobic. just like i obviously am not. what are you doing sending death threats to ME for?! i'm a millennial idiot writing a semi-popular harry potter fanfiction on the internet - is this really who you're fighting this big social justice fight against? the level of cowardice disguised as courage is staggering. the merits of sending death threats to JKR are somewhat arguable given her level of power and funding and the fact that she is openly transphobic, but some of the targets these people pick make me think that they do not have two brain cells.
so, to answer the main question: is it right for trans activists to be sending online death threats to people they perceive as being transphobes right now? it's obviously not, but not because violence is wrong, but because this particular type of violence is stupid. and i think these people know this. because i think they're not really trans activists. they're people who are actively trying to sabotage the trans cause. they are people who don't see violence as a means to an end but as a thrill in itself. they aren't the climate activists who break into nuclear power plants to show their vulnerabilities and neutralise a couple of police officers to do it. they are the people who stay at the back of demonstrations with the intent of breaking everything, not to make a point but just for the hell of it. and there is also a very real possibility that these people are actually transphobes trying to make real trans activists look insane.
and this is what matters in all of this.
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Let’s Talk About Majin Vegetables
I started writing this as a joke but kept going since it let my brain avoid thinking about god damn TROMBONES for one freaking moment.
Alright, let’s talk about Majin Vegeta. At a glance our boy seems like a painfully generic angry asshole without any substance or is “meaningless” but I disagree! Here’re some thoughts on what was probably going on in that ENORMOUS FOREHEAD.
Struggles with Motivation
After Kakarot died to Cell, Vegeta lost the motivation to fight. He flies off alone after saying: “I am no warrior, I’ll never fight again”.
Genuinely a sad moment for poor Geets. Of course he eventually kept training but it wasn’t the same. With Kakarot gone, his title of being the greatest Saiyan, his birthright, the only thing driving him, is impossible. Kakarot has permanently stolen it from him (since there’ll never be a fight to regain that title from him again). He probably now only trains to literally pass the time and doesn’t feel inspired.
Identity Issues
Even if he’s becoming a better person he might struggle with feeling like it. Even being domesticated and not killing anymore he doesn’t feel like he can ever fit in with the rest of the ‘Z Fighters’ (except for Piccolo, I always thought they should be better friends! But they’re both terrible at being social so it’ll never happen) or his family because of the unforgivable things he’s done in the past. Instead he embraces them, thinking “I’M NOT INNOCENT”! Feeling more comfortable thinking that, since it doesn’t feel like hiding anything or making excuses for what he’s done.
Even though it might be better than working for Frieza, he’s probably tired of trying to acclimate to Earth and being the only one of his kind left. Yeah Kakarot and the kids are Saiyans by blood but they don’t share his culture, he’s the only one. Also his tail was cut off! The only real visual difference he had from Humans. He might feel an obligation to be the most Saiyan-y Saiyan (violent & bloodthirsty) since the rest aren’t. Besides, he is the pRiNce of aLL sAiYanS and feels like he can’t let himself lose that part of himself.
Mental Strength
Geets might not be the strongest but he’s definitely got mental strength. He’s gotten his ass kicked again and again and has shown how much of a complete stubborn asshole he can be. He’s used to taking orders and working under stronger powers (his King/father and of course Freiza) and using it to his own benefit or just outright defying them. Vegeta knows that agreeing to Babidi’s Majin powers doesn’t mean he’ll have to submit to him. His willpower is stronger and he’s willing to bet on it. This also makes sense why Babidi didn’t take over Vegeta, Vegeta LET Babidi do it. I bet if he actually didn’t want the Majin powers he could have fought it off.
Majin as a Vice
Back to the motivation problem, he jumps at the chance to fight Kakarot again when it seems like he’ll have the chance at the Tenkaichi Tournament. It’s been 7 YEARS. But, on the day of the tournament, even before fighting him, Vegeta can sense that Kakarot has gained more power than him in the otherworld. At the same time, he learns about Babidi’s Majin powers. This is his ONLY CHANCE to kill Kakarot and of course he makes the reckless choice.
Very on brand for Geets, when cornered he makes AWFUL choices. Remember when he fought Kakarot for the first time? And his ego was bruised because Kakarot, some lowly 3rd class nobody, was able to land a few good hits on him, the PRINCE, and Vegeta decided to just blow up the entire planet (which probably would have killed himself too if it hit!). He’s very intelligent but this isn’t a man who’s calm under pressure.
Also Vegeta felt like he’d perform better if he could let himself be his asshole self again. He went so long without having the motivation to truly fight (7 YEARS!) and now that his chance is here he’s pushing aside everything he considered made him “weak” or unmotivated and knows that the Majin powers would help him do that. Having finally overcome his motivation problems he’s diving head (forehead!) first.
Between that and accepting the Majin powers this guy’s got freaking vices, but they DO work and dude is absolutely having a FANTASTIC time. “I have to say…it feels PRETTY GOOD.”
Besides feeling “pretty good”, he’s also LOOKING “pretty good” with the free ~*eyeliner*~ included in the Majin power package.
Notice me!!
When Kakarot has his 1 day on Earth his attention is split, he wants to visit friends, fight in the tournament, eat food, visit his family and then maybe fight Vegeta—in that order. Vegeta’s not his priority. Geets is DESPERATE for senpai to notice him. Also it’s destroying this boy’s very fragile ego that he even has to earn Kakarot’s attention and it’s only adding to his already monumental ire for this man. And especially once he notices Kakarot has surpassed his strength, he realizes he HAS to take the Majin powers to get this bastard to focus on him. Also…the eyeliner can’t hurt, right?
Learning the cost of vices and healthier ways of being motivated
When finally fighting Kakarot he realizes that even though he’s getting what he wants (sort of…) he’s royally fucked up his family in a shit ton of ways and allowed Buu to be revived which just adds to the fucked up things he’s done to his family and everyone else (the world…maybe even the galaxy lol). Motivation to save them is now powerful enough to let him let go of needing to kill Kakarot (at least for now). Also as much as he wants to fight Kakarot it’s both distracting and impossible to ignore Buu at this point.
I ADORE that on their way to see Buu, Vegeta tricks Kakarot and knocks him out. It’s a little treat for himself. Yes he does it so he can face Buu alone and steal that glory, but I like to think he also did it because he just COULDN’T FUCKING RESIST. It’s not beating him but it’s SOMETHING.
Instead of earning his title as the greatest Saiyan by killing Kakarot he instead emulates him
Just like when Kakarot saved everyone by sacrificing himself to Cell, Vegeta realizes he can at least tie Kakarot for that by doing the same with Buu. Also he probably feels like shit after realizing he’s fucked things up and hopes this might atone for that at least a bit (not much, dude still goes to hell lmao). It’s still sort of a selfish action, but at least he’s also doing it for others. Dude has got to start somewhere. It’s not until after he’s brought back to life that he’s able to actually atone for the shit he’s done (at least in Porunga’s eyes) by admitting Kakarot is the best and he’s happy for him, intentionally getting beat up in order to give Kakarot the time to save the day, and not even caring if he dies in order to kill Buu (again).
-
Or maybe all of this is bullshit and dude is just an asshole going through an especially bad mid-life crisis that no amount of push-ups, sit-ups or even juice can fix.
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