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ultraviolet-cello · 3 months

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Aw man. Today's the last day of @tristampparty and I am surprisingly sad about it. I'll be catching up the days I missed at some point, but I've chucked all that I've written, including today, into a google document and I apparently wrote 7.5k words over the course of episode 6 to today.

That's! A Lot!

I really wanna thank everyone who reblogged and gave me their additional thoughts/commentary, and special thanks to Revenantghost for organizing this whole thing! you do good work for this fandom i am giving u a gold star

With that, here we go into Episode 0 - High Noon at July. CWs for pregnancy discussion and a less detailed than last time but still present analysis of sexual assault and transphobia, marked with a [CW] Ofc, spoilers for Trimax and Tristamp

Cowboy kid Knives is something u can pry from my cold dead hands but it's also,,, I don't watch a lot of westerns, but the way Knives describes it seems like he likes the high action and justice. Which yea. yeah.

A lot of ppl interpret Vash then saying that he doesn't like that sorta stuff as him having always had pacifistic tendencies but I don't really read it that way? I just see him being rather similar to Trimax Vash - chill kid with his own interests and hobbies and Knives being the very oversensitive kid so outshines him initially.

Regardless of version of Trigun (except 98. 98 didn't know shit about knives lmao), Vash and Knives have always started off wanting to coexist and be peaceful; it's just how they reacted to it later that differs. In this case, Knives wants to stand up for his friends and make a peaceful world through that, and Vash is more passive in that he just wants to have faith in humanity.

Not to mention they are kids. Young, idealistic kids. This is pre-Tesla, they don't know the extent of how horrible the world is. The loss of innocence and subsequent breakdowns relating to The Horrors is yet to come.

[CW] Mmmmm they really don't make the pregnancy imagery subtle now do they dfgkjdfjk

I also think there's like - merit in also interpreting Knives as trans. Not Just because i think he's also very trans coded (A lot of his breakdowns and story arcs have reflections in how some trans men overcompensate masculinity in a Bad Way. That's a very small subsection of trans guys btw but I am speaking from experience. I got better tho). Anyway it makes the fact that Knives is disregarding Vash's bodily autonomy very much Worse if you take the male plants are trans analogy into it.

He's so far gone that he's willing to do to Vash what would be the worst thing to be done to him; Violating his body to rebuild and make him a perfect independent ("remind him of biological reality"), physically overpowering him ("taking the aggressor, commonly masculine role in sexual assault") to do what he wants. Disregarding the wants and needs of the Plants ("women +fem-presenting ppl that he originally set out to protect because he knew their experience and wanted to help and still has that trauma from witnessing that trauma")

Ofc that's just a reading of the scene, but I quite like it as a trans guy because that makes a really good villain with trans themes/motifs! I hate him so much (affectionate)

No, no she doesn't. Meryl is making a choice and she's gonna damn well stick to it! She's been given agency and she's gonna spend it in the most eldritch horrific scene that someone on that planet could spend it lmao. Well, no Knives takes most eldritch and horrific. Meryl's second tho

Okay this fucking scene drives me INSANE. This is a memory, clearly, but it's one that's being tampered with. Vash asks Knives if they can get along with humans, and then Knives immediately messes with the memory to make sure that he says that he'll protect Vash no matter what. But that is very clearly not what was originally said, so... What did he say? What was present day Knives so desperate to cut off?

I've talked about the narrative being biased against Knives a lot, but something I haven't talked about is that Knives kinda tries to contribute to that narrative a lot. He wants to seem like he never cared about humans, he wants to seem like he always planned this and was going for justice ever since he was a kid. He tells Vash the Tesla incident was just a small grain of sand, he uses Luida to tell everyone he wants to kill Rem, he's unbearably cruel to Vash to make his point. The only difference is that he wants to be right.

So he doesn't let us see what the kid version of him says, because that would contradict the narrative he's built for himself.

I really wanna give props to Studio Orange here for both the design and way they modelled the wing here, that's a really difficult task when the guy you're putting a wing on has a tight as hell bodysuit. But the anatomy holds up surprisingly well!

Also many people have pointed out that the plant mech looks a lot like Rem, and Knives staring into the face of a Plantish representation of his mother that is created and controlled subconsciously by his brother and saying he was rejected is. It sure is a scene!

ONCE AGAIN. INCREDIBLE EFFECTS. I also would like to once again point out the angelic motifs of Knives' design here.

Also Vash saying this is SO important because Meryl!!! is so important!!! I see a lot of people brush Meryl's space in the story off and it Enrages me because Meryl is one of the most important people to Vash. Aside from our frontline yaoi soldier Nicholas D. Wolfwood, Meryl has one of the most tangible impacts on Vash's character.

When Vash is in his breakdown in Trimax, Meryl is the one to kneel at his side and believe in him; When Vash is having his god awful horrible mindscape time in Tristamp, Meryl does the same. When Meryl is kidnapped in Trimax, Vash instantly jumps out of a window in the chance of getting her back. Vash trusted her enough to fire the ion cannon in the sand steamer episode. He immediately went to July the moment she and Roberto were kidnapped.

Meryl has so much faith in Vash and she's insane for that, but Vash recognizes her and that faith pays off in giving him the strength to carry on. He heard her voice, too :]

Also oh to be floating slowly down to the floor while you're a meter away from a cube with the power of an atom bomb while someone named Millions Knives is summoning millions of knives in front of u. Meryl has guts, man.

And now that Vash has gotten his gun back, he's back to using it as a tonfa! (check I think my analysis of episode 7 for more on that). Watching for the swing blocks, the forearm guard, and thwacking the knife tendrils out of the way

This fight scene has soooo much love and care and detail in it I love it so much actually. From seeing Vash's bullets to all the expressions and beautifully detailed firing, there's so much detail in a quick space that you really have to slow it down to see everything.

Seriously how strong is Knives to be able to have a feasible chance again Vash's prosthetic - and Vash matches him! Also the chomp

Now something that I have the shakiest of theories on is that after summoning The Cube, Vash starts moving in a far more controlled manner, he stands still when reloading, he has his movement flurries and then stands still to aim. Which uh. Studio Orange works in 3d, but those are 2d animation techniques. He's moving like 98 Vash.

There's a lot I admire about Studio Orange's use of 3d (I am a mid-tier 2d artist lmao) but I love love love that they're able to get all these really nice, creative camera shots that would be impractical in 2d (all those overhead shots, for example, have a chance of turning about bad/looking weird in 2d, and puts more strain on animators, but 3d you have the models from every angle already. 3d isn't easier by any means, but it does have its strengths)

Also. how Did Wolfwood get over here, dare I ask. mans climbed a tower in just a few minutes what is Wrong with him

Also a nice detail, Vash usually has perfect trigger discipline, but he falters here against Knives, probably because he's been already shooting, but hey, he's stressed. I'll give him a break.

I also appreciate exactly how superhuman Wolfwood is now. Tristamp Wolfwood is on a different level. Like 98 Wolfwood is just some (attractive) guy, Trimax Wolfwood has a lot of gory body horror going on and a subtle kind of endurance/strength, but Tristamp Wolfwood just jumped off a very tall building holding a grown woman and the Punisher and was fine.

Oh hey, same symbol on the tower as was on the sandsteamer and on Vash's wanted poster - symbol of July, probably

Very horribly, Knives probably did just save Vash's life here. But also the rest of July's life (though ofc he just extended the timer)....

I'm not quite sure When Vash started using plant bullets, but he's definitely using them now. Also the nails on his prosthetic are a nice touch!

THE FLYING SAUCER STRIKES AGAIN. I wonder if that's gonna be the basis of the Ark, if that's the route season 2 goes.

I also. Was that allI the Plants collected that escaped in this, or were there a bunch still running in July that get obliterated too? Did Knives inadvertently cause the death of more plants? I mean, when Knives gets revived in Trimax he definitely causes the death of at least 2 plants (there are a couple of bulbs in the background of the blast radius, plus the one that was used to revive him... she uh. Didn't look like she was doing so hot)

Vash's little speech is always so,,, intense. He has such a strong sense of character and it's admirable how well he sticks to his morals despite it all.

On a more body horror note, Knives can survive a long fucking time trying to grab The Cube. In Trimax he gets hit with the angel arm and practically disemboweled instantly, but Tristamp Knives can take over a minute of just like. being right in the direct path of fire. They're really gonna have to work to reconstruct him. Good luck, Legato!

UFO SPOTTED !!! LEAVING JULY AS IT IS DESTROYED !! NOT CLICKBAIT !!!

^ I made that long ago and needed to use it somewhere dfgkjdfg

[RAUCOUS CHEERING]

And ofc I have to bring up Eriks :] I don't actually have too much to say abt him. Studio Orange strip this man and make him bark like a dog next season or we will riot

CHRONICA MENTION!!!!! YAYYYYYY

And that's kinda. It.

Man I have had such fun over the last 12 days, I've really discovered a love for analyzing and theories and putting that out there and chatting with people about Trigun :] I should do this more often lmao but I do want to get back to drawing. I'll find a balance, then!

Thank you all for coming, and Wow if you made it this far I must be doing something right lmao.

#cli speaks #trigun #trigun stampede #tristampparty #cli analysis

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junos-oc-emporium · 2 months

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#cli speaks #its the day of impulsive decisions

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norrussell · 6 months

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A Helping Hand | George Russell⁶³

Pairings: George Russell x fem!bestfriend!reader

Summary: feeling frustrated, you go to George for some aid where he offers to help you blow off some steam

Warnings: smut

A/N: goodness, this is the most I've spent on proofreading, rewriting and editing than on any of my other fics, probably because I babied this idea for a long time 💀 and probably because I was sick for the past few days that I couldn't do anything else except thinking about George taking care of me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it 🥰

You were frustrated. The irritation was welling up inside you, and there was no telling why. And nothing going your way wasn’t helping either. But what it is that you always do whenever you feel like this?

You go to George.

George and you were best friends for as long as you could remember. He played enormous role in your life, in a way that you would often refer to him as an older brother. No one else even came close to being as important to you as he was. He was always there to listen when you needed to rant about something, and the two of you were just as comfortable sitting in silence as you were engaging in deep conversations. Today was no different.

You walked over to George's apartment, knowing that he wouldn't mind your unannounced visit. You knocked on the door and waited a few moments before he answered, your mind racing with all the things you wanted to vent about. The door opened, revealing George’s smiling face.

“Hey there, buddy,” he said, pulling you into a hug. “What’s got you so worked up?” he questioned upon seeing your slumped shoulders and frowning face.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I just know I’m feeling a lot and it’s not good.” you walked further into his apartment, running a hand through your hair.

George followed behind you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, "I don't even know what's bothering me. I'm just feeling so damn… restless." and leaned against his kitchen bar.

George nodded his head, eyes fixed on your face. He knew that look and the manner in which you spoke. George had experienced this before with you. You would continue to speak until the words dried up, and he knew it was in his best interest to listen attentively. And he wanted to do just that. To be a friend and not interrupt for once your thoughts were drifting by. He loved the feeling of neediness you gave him.

So you started to spill your troubles. From everything that happened to you since you woke up to this very moment in the afternoon. He listened patiently, nodding and frowning in all the right places. You continued to talk, your words flowing out in a jumbled mess as you tried to make sense of your emotions. George listened intently, offering words of encouragement when needed. As you spoke, he moved closer to you.

It wasn’t a subtle move, you very much noticed him getting up and walking up to you, caging you in between his arms he rested on the counter behind you. He bowed his head so that his eyes were in level with yours and leaned forward, the words dying on your lips as he did so. Your faces were now only inches away, the air around you charged.

“When was the last time you got laid?” he asked.

You were taken aback by his sudden change in demeanor. “W-What?”

He took a step back, giving you space to breathe. “You, my friend, are sexually frustrated.”

You hadn't been with anyone in a while, he was right, like he always was, but “And how do you know that?” there was annoyance in your voice as you crossed your arms.

He sat down in one of his kitchen chairs, leaning on the table behind and legs spread lightly. “How long have we been friends for?”

“Almost twenty years. Why?” you frowned, not really seeing the point of this conversation.

He gave a slight nod in agreement. “And in that long period of time you think I wouldn’t have learned your,” his gaze traveled up your body until it finally settled on your eyes, “body language?” his tongue clicked.

You swallowed hard, feeling the atmosphere between you two shift. There was definitely an undercurrent of something more, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to go there just yet.

“This-That has nothing to do with this.” you choked out.

“So you’re saying,” he moved his head from side to side. “If I offered you a solution you would say no?” his eyes found yours again and his gaze was piercing.

You couldn't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as George's eyes locked with yours. You had expected a hug or some words of comfort, not a proposition. You knew what he was insinuating, and part of you was tempted to take him up on his offer. But the other part of you was hesitant, unsure if you were ready to cross that line with him.

You had to admit, the idea was tempting. George was an attractive man, and you had always felt a certain level of chemistry between the two of you. But did you want to risk your friendship for a moment of physical release?

“I…”

Upon noticing your hesitation, George decided for you. “Come here.” he patted his thigh.

Bolts of electricity ran through your body at his words. There was no denying that the idea of him taking care of you in that way was incredibly arousing. And before you made up your mind, your legs carried you over to him.

He took your arm, leading you in front of him. “Turn aroud. Sit down.” he instructed softly.

“On y-”

“Yes, y/n, on my lap.”

If he wanted to, he could pull you by the arms and just place you there, but he waited for you to slowly sit down yourself, resting your hands on his knees, your back to him.

“Good girl. Now,” he leaned forward, hugging your waist. “If in any moment you feel uncomfortable or just want to stop for whatever reason, I want you to tell me. Alright?”

“Okay.” you nodded, his intense stare more than you could handle.

You were familiar with being this close to George; you'd even slept in the same bed side-by-side without any issue. You had held each other before, but his touch was always comforting and platonic. This time however, something more hung in the air - an energy that made your heart race with anticipation.

“Good.” he kissed your tense shoulder.

George's hands caressed your body with practiced ease, gently running down your sides, across your abdomen, up and down your jean clothed thighs in order to help you relax. Gradually, you leaned into him, your breaths deeper. His lips smoothed over your neck and you let out an unwilling moan.

“You’re doing good.” he reassured and you nodded, affirming that you heard him.

His hands moved to the hem of your shirt, diving under to caress your stomach. They were warm, but your back arched on a sudden skin on skin contact. He stopped for a moment until you relaxed again. Moving upwards, his fingers grazed the lace of your bra before he glided his palms to cup them.

You gasped and bit your lip, surprised by the new sensation of his hands so close to your growing chest, and leaned back on him even more, your nipples hardening. You loved the way George touched you, the way he made you feel. His hands ran up and down between you and your bra, squeezing your globes. His lips found your ear, nibbling on its lobe before he spoke.

“You have a beautiful body.” he whispered huskily.

A shudder ran up your spine at the pure lust in his voice. His right hand slipped under the cup of your bra, freeing your breast. You didn’t protest, you felt good. Instead, you arched your back more, pressing your chest more against his hand. His thumb and forefinger found your nipple and pinched and pulled on it, making you moan.

George lowered his head and licked your neck, kissing it softly and nipping it occasionally. His left hand joined in the fun and massaged your other breast, pinching its nipple just as his right hand was doing. You clamped your eyes shut, enjoying the sensation of his touch.

“Sensitive, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

You leaned back once again, despite your best efforts. Now his right hand made its descend down your stomach, making you wriggle in his lap, and reached the button of your jeans. Popping it open, that’s when you opened your eyes as well.

“George,” you gulped and put your hand over his. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” he pulled you closer, pressing his lips reassuringly to your neck. “Are you not?”

“I’m just worried what it means to us, our friendship. I don’t want to ruin it.” you finally voiced your concerns.

“You won’t ruin it, babygirl.” he smoothed over your hair. “Friends help each other out, don’t they? You can look at it like that.”

“Yes, but…” We shouldn’t be doing this… you thought to yourself.

“We can stop if you-”

“No!” you were maybe a bit too quick to cut him off. “Let’s continue. I… I like it.” you could feel the heat rush into your cheeks.

He kissed your neck, working his way up to your ear. “I’m glad. Cause so do I.” his hand went back to what it was doing.

He pulled down your zipper, but didn’t push your pants down, exposing just your panties. His hand went back to your breasts, kneading them, feeling their weight. Every now and again his hand would brush past your nipple, sending tingles down your body.

You’re breathing was growing heavier, his hands were good at what they were doing and you didn’t want it to stop. He could feel you squirming in his lap, his smirk evident even though your head was turned.

“Someone’s excited.” he teased.

“S-Shut up.” you bit your lip, embarrassed.

His fingers dipped under the elastic line of your panties, and you were glad that you decided to shave that morning. His fingers ran over your mound slowly, feeling every curve, every spot. He circled around your clit, teasing you, before he moved further down, dipping one finger in a bit before pulling it back out.

You moaned and he chuckled. “You like that?” you nodded, trying to contain your moans. “You want me to continue?” you nodded again, too aroused to speak.

His fingers dipped deeper inside your folds, feeling the warm, wet sensation. When his fingers reached the bottom, he started to rub your entrance, pressing just a bit, sending pleasurable sparks through your body.

“Mhm,” he moaned into your ear, “my babygirl likes that.”

“Yes.” you shook your head, agreeing.

“Tell me.” he demanded.

“Yes, I like it. I want it.”

His finger pushed a bit further inside, and you bit your lower lip, unable to keep quiet. “You want what?” he asked in a low voice.

“I want it.” you said in a higher pitched voice, trying to sound like a grown woman. “I want your fingers inside of me.” you blushed.

“You want more?”

“Yes. Please.” you ground onto his finger, your hips following his thumb’s rhythm.

He pulled his hand out of your pants and you audibly expressed your dismay at the lack of contact. He responded by placing his hands on your hips and forcing you up off the chair. Tugging your jeans down, you stepped out of them and he was quick to pull you onto his lap once again. With a nudge from his knee, your thighs opened into a desirable position. His arm was securely locked around your waist, making sure that you wouldn't move away or slip off his lap.

“Now,” he played with your panties, pushing them aside. “You said you wanted more?”

“Yes, George. Please, George.” you whined.

“Only cause you said please.” he smirked and you could feel his teeth graze your skin.

His finger entered you again, slowly, stretching you, moving only an inch or so before pulling out again. When he felt that you were ready for more, he rhythmically started to finger you, gauging your reaction. His finger pushed a bit further in, making you squirm. He pulled it back out, a bit of your juices clinging to it before he thrust it back in. You gasped, feeling the full sensation of his finger inside of you. He added another finger, and you moaned, squirming on his lap, feeling so full. Your breathing had turned into moaning, echoing through the empty apartment in which you were in.

"Shh, babygirl, it's alright. You're doing good.” George’s free hand tangled in your hair, pulling it back, your exposed neck bared to him. He nibbled on it, biting and sucking, loving your reactions.

“Just, please, more.” you begged him.

“I don't think you're ready for that yet.”

His fingers became more insistent inside you, pushing deeper and deeper. He rubbed your g-spot, making your moans turn into pants.

“No, no, no, no.” you panted. “Please, just a bit more.”

“Would my babygirl like to come already?”

“Yes, please, I’m so close.” you said, almost crying, needing to come.

“Let me hear you say it.”

“George, please. I want it. I need it. Please.” you begged.

“God, I didn’t think hearing you beg would be such a turn on.” he confessed, his voice a deep rumble.

“Please, I need it. I need to come. I love it when you touch me like that. Please!” you were almost screaming by the end.

He went back on rubbing you, his fingers moving faster and faster. Slipping his thumb a few times inside you while his fingers were busy doing you, the other hand clamped on your hip for support. His thumb pushed in deeper, your juices coated it and he rubbed your g-spot with it, making you squeal.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes.” you said over and over again, panting.

“Come for me.” he hissed and his other hand wrapped around your throat, holding you gently.

You didn’t even need his encouragement, your whole body was aching for release. His fingers moved faster, rubbing your g-spot, his thumb pressing hard against it. You were soaked, his fingers gliding inside you. You moaned, louder than before, mumbling incoherently.

Your hips bucked on his lap and he held you in place, his fingers continuing their assault on your body. You were his toy, his play thing, and you enjoyed it more than you should have. You didn’t care anymore, you were drowning in pleasure, letting it consume you.

Lights burst behind your eyelids when you came, biting hard into your lip, muffling your screams. Your whole body relaxed from the pleasure, your arms giving out and you would have fallen if he had not held you. You leaned against him, recovering from your orgasm. Your head was laid on his chest and all you could hear was his breathing, slowing down.

When the orgasmic waves subsided, you became aware of your surroundings again and blushed.

“Th-thank you.” you stammered, chest still rising and falling visibly.

“You’re welcome.” he kissed your temple. “Feeling better now?”

“Yes.” you nodded.

“Glad I could help.” he said, his fingers playing with your hair, combing them through.

“You did, but George… This can’t happen again.” you finished, standing up to find your jeans. It was just an excuse to put some physical distance between you for you don’t think you could get the last part over your lips if you were still sitting on his lap.

“Oh,” was all he said. You couldn’t determine was he disappointed or the realization hit him.

“We are friends and I want it to stay that way. You are too important for me to lose over... such thing.” you zipped up your pants.

“I understand.” he said, his voice not betraying his true feelings.

You had expected it to be hard to say it, but it didn’t feel like a lie at all, it felt like the truth. It felt like the right thing to do.

“Thank you.”

He meekly nodded. “Do you want to stay over? We can watch tv or something…” he trailed off.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay.” he smiled and you smiled back.

You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in blankets on his couch, laughing as you watched bad television shows and poking fun at the characters and plots. Between you two was no uneasiness; you were laughing together like earlier events hadn't happened. And that moment looked like a promise that, no matter what, nothing will ever change between you two.

Or so you thought...

Next part

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chvnnie · 1 year

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dunno bout you but i have a thing or two for seungmin's fingers i'm sorry like they look so slender and beautiful and imagine him ruining you with his fingers only while looking at you in the eyes— let me stop here before i combust

i know you sent this a while ago but it’s monday my brain can’t keep up with this—

SMUT — MINORS DNI

It’s just a little habit of his. Hard to break, hard to even recognize unless it’s pointed out. Seungmin’s fingers just seem to move on their own when you’re seated next to him, softly stroking your inner thigh. Sometimes he draws shapes, sometimes it’s just lines. Up and down, up and down. It’s almost soothing.

For him, that is. Sometimes it is for you, but other times it tickles. Then there’s times like tonight, when his cold fingertips are against your warm skin, that it’s doing nothing but building a frustration in your core.

His other hand is holding his chin. Perched on the table, blankly staring at his friend under the guise of listening. He’s checked out a long time ago, distracting himself by touching you.

Perhaps it’s your fault for wearing this dress. It was a little short, but you didn’t think much of it. It’s not like this is a fancy restaurant; a cocktail dress is perfectly in tune with the dark vibes of the ocean side restaurant.

“Oh, Seungmin.” His friend speaks, sparking a light in your boyfriend’s eyes. “Did you hear about—“

Up and down, up and down. Seemingly getting higher as well. Does he notice? Seungmin is tuned back into the conversation, it’s very likely that he has no idea.

His knuckles brush against the opposite thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. That’s when you catch it; the playful smile that’s tugging on his lips. Then it happens again, confirming your suspicions.

Seungmin knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s silly of you to assume that he doesn’t.

The restaurant is starting to feel too stuffy. Heat creeping from your belly and making beads of sweat pearl on the back of your neck. No. Nope. Can’t do this anymore.

“I’m going to get some air.” You mumble before standing up, taking your boyfriend’s jacket off the back of your chair in favor of covering your shoulders. It’s the first time Seungmin had looked at you since he started teasing you, and you feel almost nauseous at the look he’s giving you.

It’s only in his eyes, but it’s far more than enough to make your body start to sway. Feral, darker than the sea just outside the large window that spans the restaurant. It’s like the moon is shining in his dark ocean, giving it a little sparkle of mischief.

“Are you alright, darling?”

He’s so frustrating. You’re so frustrated.

“Just a little warm. I won’t be long.”

You don’t give him another chance before you step away from the table, heading towards the door in the corner of the restaurant. The one that leads to a balcony.

The wooden planks creak slightly as you step onto them. It’s too cold to seat customers outside, giving you the privacy you need. At the railing, you groan loudly, head hanging as you try to catch your breath.

This is ridiculous. Should a little touch get you this riled up? You almost want to slap yourself. Get it together. That was nothing, stop acting like it’s something serious.

Waves crash against the beams beneath you. The sound lulling you, easing the pressure that built its way up to your throat. A few more minutes, you tell yourself as the breeze hits your face. Cool, misty. Just what you needed to ground yourself.

When the patio door opens, you decide it’s time to return to the table. It’s been long enough.

All you can do is turn around before familiar hands grip the railing on either side of you. And it doesn’t matter how cold it is, how freezing the breeze is.

When Seungmin is in front of you, looking at you like that, you have no choice but to melt.

“Just wanted to check on you.” He lifts a hand, softly stroking your face with his knuckles. The rings catch the moonlight, sparkling like the heat rapidly climbing up your body yet again. “You were in a rush.”

You pull his jacket tighter around you, trying to avoid his gaze. “It was stuffy in there.”

“You think? The restaurant is almost empty.” He’s getting closer, bodies hardly separated. Just enough space for the cool breeze to squeak by. When he notices you’re not looking his way, his hand flips. Cups your cheek, brings you back to him. “Don’t be shy, baby. It’s just me.”

It’s the cold that’s making your lip tremble. That’s it. Not the overwhelming need for those pretty fingers to be elsewhere.

“Why are you doing this?” You whisper, the sound almost lost to the crashing of the waves.

Seungmin smiles at you, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. His nose nudges your opposite cheek, other hand now tracing up the outside of your thigh.

“Because I can.”

Some fingers tease your inner thigh, the others stroke your jaw. Push hair behind your ear, draw over the outline of your lips. He doesn’t look away from you once, committing your body to his touch until the fingerprints have burned away and all that’s left is you.

He doesn’t blink, not even as the fingers tucked between your legs reach your clothed core. Pushing the lacy material to the side, the move with ease over you. Collecting slick until he’s satisfied with how it clings them.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He whispers lowly, lining his fingers with your entrance. “Don’t make me stop.”

There isn’t time for a response before he pushes in, almost expressionless as your lips part. Slowly, he goes deeper. Scissoring as he goes, stretching you out to make enough space for a third finger to join the duo.

It’s not an easy fit. You fill full from his fingers alone, head starting to roll as you brokenly cry into the night.

As easily as he gave it to you, it’s taken away. Hand on your face slipping to the back of your head, adjusting it so you’re looking at him once again.

“What did I tell you?” Seungmin looks almost scary in the moonlight, voice a low mumble that’s more chilling than the ocean air. “Eyes. On. Me.”

You whimper, both hands wrapping around the wrist in between your legs. Trying to pull it forward.

“I’ll be g-good.” You earnestly promise, the tears beginning to build. “Just touch me, Minnie.”

He doesn’t touch your cunt again. No, instead he brings his slick covered fingers up. Pushing all three inside your mouth.

“Lick. Clean them.”

Did he really have to ask? Your tongue was already moving around the digits, lapping eagerly at the skin. The rings. Making sure to get every last drop of you off of him.

Seungmin chuckles lowly. “You know, if you would have stayed seated just a little longer,” without warning, his fingers push back, hitting your throat. He smiles when you start to choke, knees buckling at the desperation shoots through your body. “I was going to play with your cunt there. Maybe take you to the bathroom to fill you up.”

Out of your mouth. Untangled from your hair. The hands you’ve been craving all evening rudely taken from you before you could fully enjoy them. When you reach for him, he steps back. Adjusting his tie before giving you a twisted smile.

“What a shame. Impatient little girls never get what they want.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #skz drabbles #chvnnie thots

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ilwonuu · 3 months

Text

☪︎* focus. x.dejun

summary- your boyfriend comes over to help you study. he is very smart and fucking hot which makes him the perfect person to help with your homework. how does he expect you to focus when he looks so good all the time.

warnings- meandom ish! xiaojun, subby reader???, rough sex, choking, creampie, unprotected sex, pinv, smut with no plot kinda, fingering,degrading, pet names-baby,beautiful,good girl, slut (lmk if i missed anything)

authors note- i cant stop thinking about xiaojun. save me on my youth xiaojun save me!!!!

18+ mdni

30 mins. 30 mins of you thinking of xiaojun fucking you. you should be thinking about the homework problems he is trying to get you to solve. knowing that you will not be focusing anytime soon. “junnie? can we take a break?” he shifts looking at you fully. “a break baby you only did one of the questions.” he says in a slight laugh.

“i know but i can’t focus i just need a quick break.” he smirks at you. “and what is causing you not to be able to focus hm?” he pulls you to sit next to him on the bed moving you from your desk chair. “i don’t know i’m just thinking of um other things.” hoping he doesn’t ask anymore questions as you smile cutely at him. “other things? wanna tell me what things?” he starts kissing your neck softly. “i just want you.”

he tsks “baby you have me. what did i say about using your words? you being a bad girl isn’t gonna get you what you want. tell me what you want.” he rubs your thigh slightly looking at you with an innocent smile. you hate that fucking smile. you know what he is doing and so does he. he knows you’re needy. “c-can you fuck me?” he nods. “see baby being a good girl can get you what you want quicker.” he pulls your shirt off you taking his own off shortly after. removing his own shorts and pulling yours down.

“you want my fingers or my mouth beautiful?” feeling his fingers rubbing on your clothed clit slowly. “i just need you p-please just touch me! do something!” he smirks at you. “baby you’re being really bad huh? i can fucking stop touching you all together hm? leave you here to finger fuck yourself like the bad girl you are.” you feel him pull his fingers away from your panties. “n-no please! i will be good i swear. fingers i want your fingers please.” he praises you with neck kisses. “my good girl. i will give you what you want. since you asked so nicely.” quickly inserting two fingers inside you.

“f-faster please.” he adds another finger watching you as you get lost on the feeling fucking yourself on his fingers. “usually i would punish you for how bad you’re being but im feeling nice so i’ll let you cum and then fuck you till you can’t fucking speak.” he moves his fingers quicker inside you feeling you clench. pulling you into a messy kiss. “i’m g-gonna cum! please don’t stop please please.” not stopping or changing his movements kissing you again. “yea baby? cum on my fingers baby. you’re being such a good girl begging.” his words going straight to your pussy. coming hard on his fingers while shaking. “look at this pretty mess you made. fuck baby you’re so fucking wet.” he pulls his finger out of you. pulling his boxers down to let his dick out shifting to lay you down so he is now on top of you. “you still want it baby?” you have never nodded quicker. causing him to laugh at you. “you know what you need to do baby. i need to hear words.”

“yes! xiaojun if you do not fuck me right now im gonna cry.” he lines his dick up with you entrance. “you want to be a bad girl again? i’ll fuck you like the slut you are. i bet you’ll love that right beautiful?” he pushes his dick all the way in wrapping his hand around your neck slightly. immediately fucking you deep and hard into the mattress. you can’t even form a sentence if he asked you to. you are fucking dumb and he just started fucking you. “f-fuck you’re so wet.” he doesn’t stop his pace slightly choking you harder. “j-junnie slow down i-im gonna cum.” he smiles at you and rubs your clit with his thrusts. “no no i’m not fucking slowing down. you wanted this right? to be fucked like a slut. fucking take it.”

he holds your waist moving one of your legs up so he is fucking you deeper. “junnie im coming!!.” your legs shaking as you cream on his cock. “f-fuck y/n me too just a little longer. you can take it.” he fucks you harder dick twitching as he cums deep inside you. “fuckk baby you feel so good. i don’t ever want to stop.” he pulls your face up to kiss your face all over. slowly watching as his dick pulls out of you.

“lets get you cleaned up and then you’re going back to your homework. hopefully you’ll be able to focus this time.”

#wayv #wayv smut #nct wayv #xiaojun #xiao dejun #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct smut #nct

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macfrog · 5 months

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all three dogs

Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love. andrew kane, how to be a dog

inspired by this gorgeous post (good idea to read it before you read this), and this gorgeous ask (thank you @iknowisoundcrazy). also shoutout to @mrsmando for being the queen of character study. i am not sure what this is, exactly? is it about joel miller, or is it about some dogs? i do not know. but it was fucking cathartic, so here, i guess. here's how i see joel at his worst.

summary: "dog metaphors are all about devotion, devotion to a person, a concept, a place etc, to be a dog is to be devoted."

warnings: little graphic i guess? blood and guts. violent joel. sarah dies and joel shoots up a hospital to save ellie. angst. i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

main masterlist | follow @macfroglets with notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🖤

he loves you, sarah says, fork digging into egg.

he’s dependent on me, joel quips, not the same.

i think it’s the same.

when the first dog is born, he gives his heavy head a shake, and his ears flick to life. his fur is still damp from the blood and fluid of his mother’s body. he still smells like her – looks like her, too. he is still connected in some way to where he has been; the umbilical cord coiled and dripping.

she licks and licks and licks until he is clean. watches contently as he pads off into some distant future, where he will lose that boisterous gleam in his eye, the gentle wag of his tail. but for now –

for now, he is brown-haired. brown-eyed to match. he has a daughter. he is bright, and alive, and he makes jokes when they bubble up to his tongue. he is good. he knows love like a first language, as if each swipe of his mother’s tongue on his coat melded it into his makeup.

he does not know the warmth of another man’s blood on his hands. he has not drawn the screams and howls of pain from another’s throat.

she is the sun – his daughter – the most radiant part of his life. his life, which spins on its axis around her. always looking for her, to her, at her. vitamin c, she tells him, and he accepts the glass of orange juice. she tells him to swear and he says, on my life. she tells him he’s lame and he says, i know.

he trots faithful and pliant at her heels. circles her legs and passes over her shadow, waiting to be told different. waiting to be shooed away.

only – when he is told, he doesn’t listen. he can’t. what is a planet with no sun to orbit? what becomes of day, when its light begins to drain?

she digs her nails into his skin. pushes and scratches and begs him with shallow gasps to take his hands off her stomach. to let her go. to go away.

i know, baby, i know i know i know i know –

he tells her she’s going to be okay. because what the fuck else does he know? he’s just a dog. he’s just her dog. all he knows is her.

the sun is being eclipsed. the world begins to darken.

i’m just gonna get her killed, joel weeps, i know it. i have to leave her.

when the second dog is pulled from his mother, he wails in a collapsed heap on the cold tile floor. the world is dim, colorless. the sun is gone. he does not know how he ended up here.

love is akin to violence. it speaks the same language, inflection and cadence blurring between words. he is only as strong as his fists are able to break bone. he has run out of road – a panting, ragged, old dog, tongue hanging lopsided and jumping. ears dented with the pieces of him lost to fighting.

something quakes within his chest, a deep, unstable movement. a shifting of the tectonic plates that make up his bones. he shakes violently, feeling for the thrash of his heart against his chest wall. something in the darkness commands him to act – to move, though it never reveals where to or what from. just fucking move.

and then – the eruption of his temper. like waves on rocks, breaching in violent and unpredictable bursts. spray of black ocean on the jagged cliff edge. i made this decision for your own good, he reasons, stood in the pink-papered bedroom. the snow flutters silently outside. his hackles slowly furl. she scoffs. she knows as well as he does: he’s as good a liar as he was a pet.

but for all his anger, for all the fear he misdiagnoses as weakness – there is a glimmer somewhere on his back. a pale light catching in the broken face of his watch; lighting the kinks of his dark coat. it begins to push him; to stir him like the tide.

something is controlling him again. pulling on his collar. someone is lighting the way.

where is she?

fuck you.

it takes as little time for the dog’s ears to prick as it did for his lungs to suck in a breath. his upper lip twists, canine glinting in the trembling fluorescent light. shining with saliva and the rusted tinge of blood. joel thinks it over less than once. his eyes flood black.

i don’t have time for this.

when the third dog rips his way into the world, he tears everything around him to shreds, too. his teeth are already bared; his claws are already swiping. his eyes are black as ink; he cannot remember that soft-footed pup he once was.

there is nothing left to hide. not anymore. he has existed in the darkness too long to try. his shirt and skin are stained with dirt and sweat and blood. his fur is matted; his fangs are brown and rotten. if she saw him, if her light cast its golden spill onto his bloodshot eyes and mottled coat – she would never know who he is. she would not recognize her own father.

but he was always this way, it seems: he has always loved catastrophically.

everything is red. saturated in threat; a screaming, nauseating red. it turns his stomach just to look, to peer down the chamber of his gun. the blinking of the alarm light. the maroon stains on his hands. the metallic smell seeping from the slumped vests. the thick pools he steps through, the footprints following him around every corner. they will catch up to him eventually. they always do.

his paws hurt. pads skinned raw from all the running. his lungs ache, now, too. his throat lurches for breath, closes in on itself and then sticks, choking him. he cannot remember the heat of the sun on his arms. he does not know when he last said her name.

he doesn’t remember when he last said anything. he speaks in growls and barks and bites. when his mouth opens, his lips curl by instinct. he swallows his drawl and replaces it with something sharper. something poisonous. there’s foam lining his gums.

all he has – of this he is sure – is his brute force and the quick snap of his bite. the shattering of bone, the mauling of flesh. the brawn and breadth of his body; the squeeze of a trigger with one thoughtless pull. all he knows how to do is swing.

and so, one heavy boot steps in front of the other. crunching over broken glass and scuffing over bullet shells. whereisshewhereisshewhereisshe. it loops through his head like it used to when he could see color and feel the wind in his ears. like chasing his tail. catchitcatchitcatchit.

where did she go – the moon? which cloud is she hiding behind? how many men do his maws have to tear apart to find her?

and what will she think when she sees him again? his collar missing and his claws dripping crimson. when she feels the rips in his ears, sees the scar on the side of his head. what will she do, when she runs her hand down his dirty coat, and in place of a loving lick or nuzzle of the nose, he sinks his teeth straight into her wrist?

swear to me. swear to me that everything you said about the fireflies is true.

the dog lowers his head obediently. his ears fall flat. tail curls between his back legs. the wind pushes hard against joel’s chest, threatening to take him with it. i swear, he says.

ellie’s gaze falls. she nods once. tightens her fist around the dog’s leash.

okay.

lots of inspo drawn from:

how to be a dog by andrew kane

grit by silas denver melvin

monster theory: reading culture by jeffrey jerome cohen [seven theses]

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #the last of us #tlou #i’m not sure what this is #i just wanted to write it #this one goes out to all the dog motif posts i see on the daily about roman roy #ouch

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gav-san · 7 months

Text

A Vintage Bouquet | 1/5 | Mihawk x reader

Pairing: Dracule Mihawk / Fem Reader

Length: 1/5 Chapters

Summary: Trapped in a monastery and threatened with an impending marriage, you'll strike any deal with a Pirate to escape what your father has in store for you.

“What a treat, for a great warlord of the sea to come to our island.”

Mihawk didn’t remove his feet from the table, barely even bothering to blink at the approach of the voice. Its owner, Rear-Admiral Jacobson, was the insipid leader of the Marine Outpost here, a dull man fitting of the dull backwater.

“It’s truly an honor to host you.” The marine said, taking out a chair to join him, much to his irritation.

“Charmed,” Mihawk replied dryly, barely acknowledging the large man in the marine uniform. “I’m sure.”

The rear admiral laughed, taking a seat on the bar left of the famed swordsman. He didn’t sit too close, clearly aware he was unwelcome, but not scared off

“I don’t mean to overstep, Hawk Eyes, but I’m shocked to see you here. The West Blue has been very quiet on the pirate front, and less so on any budding warriors. Illa de Palma is paradise for us here.”

Mihawk tilted his head.

He could outright refuse to chat with Jacobson, but it would likely be detrimental. Mihawk was no fan of bright sunlight and the thick humidity on Palma but he did find their wine to be pasable. Insulting the owner of the best vineyard on the island wasn’t going to get him his shipment, or any future ones on any island, knowing the way the wine-masters held grudges.

With a sigh, knowing he wasn’t getting off without revealing a little info, he acquiesced.

“It isn’t nearly that complicated. I was headed this way and was followed. Since there or no decent vineyards between here and the Grand Line, I thought I may find something interesting.” The swordsman said, raising a glass of dark liquid, and swishing it. “I have yet to decide if it was worth the diversion.”

The rear-admiral Jacobson perked a brow.

“I’d say so, but since it’s my wine, I have a stake in your opinion.”

Mihawk took a measured look, before taking a short drink of the wine, before looking back.

“It’s not terrible.”

The Rear Admiral laughed.

“That’s high praise. I’m not sure anything could please your stiff palette, other than the best.”

Mihawk took another sip, letting the liquid run across his tongue.

“It’ll do, I suppose.” He said, putting it down. “It doesn’t seem like your little island is very interesting otherwise.” The rear admiral Jacobson smiled at the swordsman.

“Interesting? Perhaps not for a man of your caliber, but for me, it’s been divine. We export the best wine and women!”

Mihawk tilted his chin.

“The monastery girls,” Jacobson added, with a wink. “The nobles send their daughters here to learn how to be good wives. Makes the entire island a pretty penny, and we get to see pretty women.”

“How quaint,” Mihawk responded with little care.

Jacobson leaned in as if he expected a juicy bit of gossip, and Mihawk raised his glass again.

“Oh, don’t be so closed-mouth! I know you came in with that fancy noble who has his eyes on our girls! Tell me if it’s true that he wants to take our sweet, lovely island beauty. I speak, of course, of Ms. Gabriella!”

Jacobson named a woman's first name that Mihawk prompted recognized and ignored. The swordsman gave a sound that was similar to a snort, though he was too elegant to do so outright. He was tempted to immediately leave hearing that name again. After having to listen to that incessant noble who decided to follow him, he could live a very long life and not have to hear it again.

“This conversation turns tedious,” Mihawk replied, “Such things hold little interest for me.”

“Always the swordsman, dedicated to your craft.” The rear-admiral joked, much to Mihawk's great annoyance at the familiarity. “For a former pirate, you have always been quite dedicated, much like those nobles.”

“I’m a pirate, not a savage.” The pirate scoffed, lowering the wine onto the bar with a clink. He rose, moving to leave before he had to hear any more nonsense. “The wine is astringent. Hardly worth a visit.”

The Rear Admiral gaffed, scooting his chair so the swordsman could pass.

“You should pass by the monastery. They had the best wine on the island.” Jacobson said, raising the glass to take a long sniff. “They always purchase our best for their private sacrament.”

Mihawk raised a hand, not bothering to give a reply.

He was not much inclined to take the word of someone who touted such fine taste and failed to live up to the expectations, but he had run low and disliked the idea of setting off without a fresh crate.

He learned against a pier, next to his boat, listening in to the local fishermen passing, morning still fresh. Villagers only give him half a glance and Marines kept a wide distance, more familiar with his old Wanted Poster.

He had learned early in life that the best way to discover the best wine was to listen to the townspeople. And though he wasn’t much inclined to speak, he had found his fair share of bounties simply being near.

But he did raise a brow at the topic of today’s rumor mill.

It was the name.

The name of the girl, at the monastery. Ms. Something Gabriella. It seemed that this girl was of some importance in the town, her name was like a buzzing fly in his ear.

Gabriella Gabriella Gabriella

What was that first name?

Ah yes.

Ms (name) Gabriella.

After putting the two together he pressed his lips together.

The last name alone was popular enough that he hadn’t thought much when people shouted praises about the girl. However, the first name was unique enough that it did cause a memory of something to resurface.

Isabella Gabriella.

An old pirate captain, who enjoyed daggers. He wondered if there was any relation between the girl and the pirate swordswoman he had known long ago, who had been a fearsome foe indeed when he was a young man.

She often bragged about her precious little daughter, who had the same name as this monastery girl.

He glanced at the Monastery, turning. Well, he supposed it wouldn’t be that big of a detour.

Perhaps even bearable if there was good wine.

-XXX-

The white sheets fluttered in the cool sea breeze that the evening on the coast had brought, the crisp breeze ridding it of the last wrinkles and folds. Careful fingers folded the fabric into a sharp square, placing it in the large wicker basket next to the laundry before you turned to the last row of hanging sheets.

You couldn’t help stop your eyes from wandering past the tall stone wall of the Nunnery Annex and gazing down the hill where the shimmering white of Ciudad Blanca lay, flaunting its beauty to all who came across the Isla de Palma.

You could appreciate the artistry that had gone into the white facade of the rich town, as you had once been part of something.

You blinked, hearing your name.

Ms. Gabriella.

Calls of it came from those passing, able to see through the cutouts in the wall, making you feel akin to a goldfish in a too-small bowl.

The monastery walls had been built less for the comfort of those inhabiting it but as a symbol of its wealthy patrons. It was a very popular destination on Isla Palma, and though you preferred cloistering herself away in the depths of the monastery, you had watched those visitors with a melancholy stirring in your heart.

Adventurous, free, people.

Located in the West Blue, the beautiful city saw more than its fair share of seafaring wanderers, an almost alarming toss-up of Marines and merchants. You heard more than you saw, as enough seemed to fear the Gods that they would visit, climbing the stairs to reach the tall white building.

And, inevitably, some of those travelers were almost certainly pirates masquerading as sailors.

And despite your hair being tightly pulled back into a strict bun, secured by coif and wimple, under the black veil, it did little to hide your lovely face and sparkling eyes, as bright as the lights dancing off the warm ocean.

And others noticed, as well.

When you were on rotation for laundry or any other tasks outside the monastery walls you would be cat-called, harassed, or confronted by angry women.

you tended, hiding yourself behind the last youets, folding as quickly as you could.

You weren’t surprised at the rough-looking travelers who called as you trod behind the Abbess, as you greatly suspected they were pirates. But the number of Marines who would leer at you and the other sisters was downright horrible.

You whipped another sheet off the laundry and winced when you heard a rip.

Damn.

Mother Superior would be greatly displeased with her, as she already thought you taking the food and space that so many other young females would be grateful for.

A good marriage, the Mother Superior had often told you, was something a face like yours should aspire to. It was one of the Abbotess’s many ways of letting you know that time was ticking for her, and if you could not find a proper husband, you’d be found one.

Choose, you foolish girl, choose!

Countless men had been offered to her, but the photos and love letters blurred before your eyes as panic caused your stomach to heave.

Your entire body reacted to the notion of marriage, shoulders squaring and knees locking as you attempted not to drop to your knees.

You felt a drop of sweat run down your shoulder at the thought of accepting one of the many proposals coming through the Monastery letterbox. Many wealthy men came to the island, but few were good. Less who had all their teeth, and had the resources to afford a bride dowry for her.

And those acceptable were almost exactly like father.

Your father, a name not earned but given regardless, was a noble living in the holy city of Mary Genoese, bathing in wealth and privilege. you hadn’t seen him in years. He saw you more as a prize swan than flesh and blood, and the only reason you heard from him was when he reminded you of your duty to marry, mainly through very unpleasant Den Den Mushi calls via snail.

And his latest he hasn’t held back, letting you know that whoever you accepted, expected to receive a generous offering for her.

The Mother Superior had a vice-like grip on your arm, keeping you in check.

Of course, you agreed.

A record number of Berry would go on to continue running the monastery with your success. That was the whole reason girls like you were boarded and raised by nuns.

But your worth was ticking down if you passed into your thirties without choosing.

The town bell rang, counting down your hours.

You wanted to pull the entire line of laundry down, angry at everything. Your life hadn’t started as a plot to turn into a breeding cow!

Your mother had been an adventurous, independently wealthy captain before wedding father. He had promised her a similar lifestyle after getting hitched, just adding his fine title as a nobleman with a residence in the Holy City.

And so you were a child who had worn only the finest dresses, even when running through the swelling ocean waves, hair perfectly coiffed even as you lay to sleep.

Maids regularly pampered her, and the best tutors engaged her mind. You voraciously read books and loved your father for generously giving you so many. Many afternoons had been spent aboard your mother's ship, set up in a hammock reading romance and eating the finest sweets, and even tasting the fine wine they sailed around delivering.

Your mother's crew was mostly retired marines and had generously taught you all about the wine trade as if you were their child. Your mother taught you more than a few tricks with her daggers, though you preferred the feel of a sword.

Your mother had made you hide this when you visited your father. He had, over time become more and more vocal about his dislike of sea life, how women didn’t suit it, especially concerning you in particular.

You had, deep down, had a feeling that something had gone sour in him.

It had probably not helped that over time, your mother had taken on the lion's share of raising you, and your noble father had mostly enjoyed staying at home, raking in his wife's wealth and attention with far too much free time on his hands. They spent more time away than together, and soon, it was clear divorce would be imminent.

On your sixteenth birthday, your mother, her ship, and the entire crew were shot down by pirates and murdered.

You had miraculously been on a rare vacation with your father. He had praised the heavens for such good fortune but you deeply grieved, unable to find any value in your life compared to your mothers.

You weren’t even half the woman she was, in any respect, and now she was gone, you saw just how strong she had been to counter a man like your father.

Father wasted no time introducing the newest addition to his collection. And you meant that as a plural since it wasn’t a day after your mother’s passing that you discovered your mother was just one of four wives that your father secretly had. He went around town, touting how you were to be sold off in a similar manner.

You were determined to cut ties, your anger roused at such a callous insult, but before you could touch a penny of your inheritance he locked it away, then he locked you away, per the flexible arm of his noble title.

Your entire future shifted, and any chance at a seafaring life was gone. And it took less than a day for that to be made clear.

And there was nothing you could do about it.

You paused, hands loosening before you tore another bed sheet, focusing to take another deep breath.

Taking out your anger here would not give you back what you had lost. You would only receive toilet cleaning duties for the next month if you didn’t control yourself.

But every day, anger cinched your middle tighter, and inevitably, those invisible stays would break, or simply cut you in two.

Breathe, you reminded herself.

“Ms Gabriella, my beloved!!” Another voice called behind your back, and you scrunched your brows together. It was close. A cold shiver danced down your spine.

Heffery Jones.

“Lovely Sweet thing!”

You recognized that drunk voice and your brows furrowed. What a terrible day, you decided. While most of your well-wishers managed to control themselves and not climb the nunnery, this voice was coming too close to her.

You flinched, turning at the figure who was half dangling over the brick, waving too enthusiastically your way.

One of the somewhat poor townsmen, a very young fellow with brown hair and yellowing teeth grinned at your lost expression.

And very drunk.

“My love, why haven’t you responded to my proposal?” He cried out to you, still struggling on the balustrade.

“Go home Heffery, your wife works too hard for you to waste it on drinks.” you retorted, your tone flat. You didn’t have the time to state all of your reasons, but that was a start.

Not that it worked.

“Darling, let’s run away and go sail the sea together! My wife means nothing!” He cried, wiggling to try and get over the sharp spikes.

You actually liked Mary Jones and feel sorry you had married Heffery. But it was arranged, like most marriages in town. You were sure the only reason Mary Jones hadn’t run off was her children, who all looked suspiciously like your neighbor, rather than her husband.

You readied herself, grabbing the laundry basket, in case you needed to throw it at him.

“Heffery Jones, don’t you dare!” The voice of the Mother Superior rang out, startling both of them.

You, for once, were flooded with relief as you heard her call out from one of the many windows. Even if it meant a lecture later, of why you had been the problem. For now, Heffery could take the tongue-lashing of the older woman, for however long it took him to realize he needed to run.

The Abbot didn’t hold much power in the monastery, but he had a den den mushi phone and paid off the local marines for problems like this.

But Heffery Jones wasn’t known for his intelligence or listening ability, and he attempted to jump over the brick. Even the solid shoe you threw aimed at his face didn’t change his mind.

He still attempted to jump.

And this was only an attempt as he inadvertently sacrificed his fancy waistcoat on a lantern pedestal and flung himself back the other way, into the road. Your shoe met with a satisfying thump and fell to the ground on the other side.

You heard the alarm of the local church regulars and the dismay of drunk sailor men who had followed Heffery from his bar to egg him on, as well as the distant thuds of Heffery rolling down the hill, probably straight back into the bar he had come from.

So you waved goodbye, cheekily.

Mother Superior burst through the side door, just as you finished folding the laundry, hiding ripped sheet at the bottom of the pile.

“That disgusting man! And you, you! Must you flaunt yourself? If you wish to be seen, hurry up and choose a respectable suitor!”

you knew better than to argue, simply apologizing. Thankfully you weren’t forced to grovel for long, as the Abbot flew through the door, bouncing back from the Mother Superior's large girth.

“He is coming!” He cried, falling into a tumble of robes.

“Great Heavens!” The nun said in tandem, as Abbot cried out his news. “I already chased the Jones boy off!”

A nun followed the father, picking him up from the ground, and the old man wasted no time delivering his news to both of them.

“Not the boy, Mother!” He said with a flourish, slipping around her.

The Abbot grabbed your hands, gleefully.

“Your fiancé! He has been chosen! And he’ll be accompanied by a Warlord of the sea!” your mouth fell open, but you stopped herself by biting her lip.

“Pardon?” you croaked.

Mother Superior cackled in thanksgiving, holding up her hands in praise to the sky.

“He can afford a Warlord?!? He’s clearly rich and powerful enough to pay for an entire new section of the building!” Mother Superior cried out, picking up the Abbot and spinning him.

The man cried out in alarm, but you felt like you had been the one being spun. you knew the time had been ticking down, but your father had promised your mother, in a written will, that you would be able to choose your husband!

You stepped back, breath getting heavy. The Abbot and the Mother Superior danced around one another, leaving you the chance to dash away, trying your best not to hyperventilate. You flung yourself around the corner fleeing the wide courtyard to the smaller citrus grove.

Others disliked the mushy ground, laden with rotting oranges, and so you often found respite there.

There on the bench, you raised your lone barefoot to look at the consequences of a very impulsive throw. Not that it hadn’t been deserved, but now you’d have to go beg the gate guard to fetch it for you.

Or…

You glanced at the old, bolted side gate in the wall behind the last tree.

If you dare, you could unlock it, dart out, and get it herself. You questioned if it was worth potentially being discovered, but if you were quick, and only to avoid unnecessary drama, it very well might be. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear you sighed, agreeing it was certainly a bad day.

This inner debate was cut short when you heard a thud, near the gate.

You jumped up, startled, head snapping over.

A shiver ran down your spine at what you had found.

A shoe.

Your shoe.

There, in a space bare of any fallen oranges, lay your shoe.

You dash to the gate, from where the shoe almost certainly came, thrusting your head out of the small space on the top. And you only caught your beneficiary as they turned the corner, the edge of a dark coat.

And you were unsure why such a small glimpse of a simple kind of action made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

You turned, ready to call out to the person, or something.

“Girl!”

You jumped back, throwing on your shoe just as Mother Superior turned the corner and found you.

“Quit hiding around, it’s time to get ready! Your father wishes to speak with you!”

-XXX-

If there was anything that could make this day worse, it was getting a call from your father. The den den mushi for the convent was not only slow, but your father had become unbearable.

The snail did a great job conveying his disregard for you.

“Do us both a favor, you, and be on your best behavior.”

“Father-” you began, only to be sharply cut off.

“-While you may not want to be married, you, but there’s no other respectable path for your future. I promise there are much worse suitors who are interested, who wouldn’t care much for your consent.”

“-Father-”

“Pirates, even.”

You froze.

“Be a good girl, my dear. I mean, anything is better than one of those Doflamingo boys. I’ve heard that Donquixote is little better than a brute. He’s been looking for a noble bride and has the money. He had no real title, since that debacle, and has been calling me up incessantly.”

Surely your father wouldn’t be cruel enough to consider that? you didn’t dare call his bluff, only to be proven wrong. you had heard plenty about the fallen noble Doflamingos, and you knew that your father was no longer joking. If you pressed him, then he’d make it worse for you.

“You’ll be a darling, won’t you, my dear? Go make pretty eyes at that nice new fiance and make sure you walk away with a ring.”

…

“Yes… father.”

-XXX-

You sat in the citrus grove, finally alone. It was chilly, being outside well into the night with only a shawl, still wearing the day dress.

Fingers clenched in the fine, high-waisted cotton dress, simple but well made. It had been the only nice dress you possessed, but had still needed a quick fitting since you had lost weight as time slipped on. Dainty slippers pinched at your toes, clearly borrowed from someone who had smaller feet.

Your hair had been groomed till it shone, left mostly up twisted into a pretty pearl netting to keep your face clear of any strays. Even makeup had been acquired.

Not even a week had passed, but you already met your new finacé.

And it had been what you expected. You had hoped that it wouldn’t be an extended meeting with the Noble fiancé because alas, no good were wishes anymore. Ronald W. Canonfire the Fourth was a long-winded, much older man looking for a pretty third wife, just to liven things up, since his other two were getting so old. And he disliked their ‘worn’ bodies since they had had almost twenty children between them.

You grit your teeth and played dumb.

Though you had been engaged, a first meeting tended to be shorter, by tradition. It was mostly to assure the buyer that the bride was as had been showcased to be. And if he approved, which he probably would, the wedding would proceed. And your next meeting with him would be the day you would go down the aisle.

Good Lord.

You couldn’t live that way.

No-

You wouldn’t.

You took in a deep breath, your chest heaving. Surely, this was not going to be the way your life went. Whatever it took, you would not be going down that aisle. You could secretly take the vows, or maybe even slip away, and find work on the docks disguised. Or stowaway!

Anything.

Anything, but this life.

So you stood, unsure of what path you were going to take, only sure that you had to take it.

And to hear a lock break.

The door on the side of the monastery creaked open.

You whip your head around, confident someone has somehow read your thoughts.And your chest nearly seizes as you brace yourself for whatever is coming.

The first thing you saw, from the deep shadows of the doorway, were well-oiled boots. Followed by dark pants, a rich black coat, and a sleek hat with a feather. A cutting figure, to say the least. His scandalous lack of a shirt was not missed, nor were the cut muscles that gleamed pristine white.

You take a step back, thinking you should probably call out for help, but are unable to find the words.

There is something downright transfixing about this man, and it’s not just the way his muscles cut down to the downright sinful apex of his pants.

He’s older, but not much.

Your mouth goes dry.

“Are you going to throw your shoe again?” He has a mild tone, almost bored. “Or should I wait?”

“You-” You mutter in fascination. “You are the man who threw back my shoe.”

He steps through, letting the gate swing close behind him.

“Why are you here?” You ask, perplexed. You might be afraid, but he looks so disinterested that you can’t help but feel a bit calm.

“Are you going to throw it at me this time?” He asks again, a sharp brow raising.

Heck, the man’s entire face was sharp, accentuated by well-groomed facial hair, and generous lashes, held together by a severe expression.

His unmissable eyes must have seen your first, for when your gaze reached his face, he was already looking at her.

Startled, you realized they were gold. Gold, and almost alien in appearance. All of these things were eye-catching and startling.

And for a moment, both stared.

But that’s not what you gazed at with an abrupt interest.

Just as he stepped into full view of the single lantern overhead, the light danced off the large metal cross on the man’s back, giving you a view of what must be the largest sword you’ve ever seen.

“Is that a kriegsmesser?” You said before you could stop yourself. “It’s enormous.”

You swear at yourself, as a reminder that the last thing you need to do is start fangirling over weapons, lest you encourage the intruder to use his own. And for it to come out like you is an innuendo.

It truly was a long, horrible day, if this was your best manners.

One of the man’s brows lifted, followed by a slight down curve at the corner of his mouth.

“Yoru.” He answered, and you blinked. “Is hardly so simple as a mere Kriegsmesser. She may be my largest sword, but I’m effective with all I equipt.”

Your mouth tilted in a smile, glee filling your chest, before you managed to clear your throat at his sly joke. Suddenly you were ten again, on the deck of the ‘Sweet Joy’ and practicing your footwork.

“Yoru,” You repeated, subtly swaying the motions you’d use with such a sword. It sounded familiar, though it had been ten years since you had read anything about swords. “May I see her?” You ask, forgoing all manners, like a bar whore.

This time, the man actually gave a smile, though it was very subtle.

“It’s not for taming bunnies.” He said, coming a step closer, and glancing down at your feet.

“Lend me your blade and we can test that theory.” You retort sharply, much to his amusement, the way he leans forward.

“I hardly here for a fight with a nun.” He said with a drawl, his tone mildly amused.

“I am not a nun.” He waved a hand like it made little difference. “Why did you come?” you said cooly, moving to put the bench between you. You hoped he was here to take you hostage, but you couldn’t make it seem easy, and give yourself away.

The man sighed, giving you a long look as if he could read your mind.

“Don’t kid yourself. I heard there’s good wine here.” The man replied, leaning against the door of the outer wall

You blinked.

“I guess.” you said, “But this isn’t exactly a store.”

“Understood,” He said wryly.

“And the Abbot will also be asleep by now, even for a distinguished gentleman yourself.” You fold your arms.

“Hense the sidegate.” He tilted his fancy hat to the broken side door.

“Rude.” You reply. “I should scream.” You wave a hand.

He moves so quickly you don’t see him place a finger on your mouth until it’s there.

“Perhaps we can come to an accord.” The man said, and you stepped back, slapping the hand away.

“Perhaps, for the right price.” you gave him a long look. “Do you own a boat?”

The man lowered his chin, giving you a hard stare that you struggled to keep, and only did so since your entire life was on the line.

A nod and you assumed that meant yes.

“I need passage off this island. And quickly,” You muttered, lowering your voice and stepping closer. He sighed as if you had asked him to pluck the moon out of the sky.

“Oh? Now why would I ever do that? Even good wine isn’t worth a private ride on my boat.” He said, tone flat.

“The wine is the best on the island. A vintage from my mother’s last shipment.” You bartered, standing your ground. “My word is good. I have my sommelier certification, and still have an active registration in the Vineyard Guild. I know wine.”

The swordsman looked you down steadily with his gold eyes.

“What’s your mother’s name?” He said, moving to the bench to sit before you, one leg elegantly flung over the other.

“Isabella Gabriella, the captain of the-”

“The wine merchant and you’re her daughter?” You wonder if you should be offended by the long look he gives you, but for some reason it fills you with butterflies, to be seen so thoroughly.

“You knew my mother?”

“Very well, girl. You’ve piqued my interest. Let’s make a deal.” He lifts a hand, gesturing to the monestary.

“I require two crates of wine for your passage to the next island.” He says, and you look at him harshly.

“This wine is worth at least a trip to the Grand Line.” You counter, fingers clenching your arms.

“Now why would a bunny like you want to go to the Grand Line? Surely you don’t think well-bred girls such as yourself are better off there than here?”

“If wine isn’t enough, then I’ll fight you for the honor of riding on your boat. If only to prove to you I can handle myself. ”

“Fight? You, a little bunny?” He said, this time you knew you had amused him, by the way the corners of his mouth raised.

“I doubt I could defeat you, swordsman, but I’m not a girl. But if I can land even a single blow, would that impress you?”

“Very well.” He said, folding his arms. “This is hardly an appropriate venue. When an opportunity arrives, we’ll see what you’re made of.”

You lower your arms, placing your hands flat against your dress. Better for him to underestimate you now.

“Fine. When and where?”

The man stood, turning to the gate, practically making you follow him out.

“It bores me to wait, so be by the docks to my ship by next nightfall. And only come if you manage to get the wine, girl.”

“I’m not a girl.” You say, and then clearly annunciate your name, but the man just walks down the cobblestone road, away from you. “What’s your name?” You call out, brows furrowed, arms holding the door to not clang.

“Dracule.”

He doesn’t look back.

And as you swiftly go back into the monastery, already planning your escape, you can’t help but get the notion that you’ve heard that name before.

#fanfic #romance #op #onepiece #one piece #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #If you have the imagination #it’s just fanfic folks

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prettygreenpills · 1 month

Text

Model - Larissa Weems x fem!reader

warnings: smut, designer!Larissa, model!reader, fingering, eating out, lesbian smut, shapeshifter!Larissa, p in v, rough-ish, etc.

„Try these on,“ you heard the tall woman speak and she threw you some mini skirt, not even looking at you. You immediately caught it in the air and gulped, taking off the previous trousers she told you to put on. You quickly put the skirt on, not really caring about that it was a little too big. For a model like you, everything could be adjusted.

You put on the skirt and adjusted it on yourself a little bit. It was a bit big in the waist, of course. You let the fabric fall onto your hip bones and stood there in front of Larissa who was still deeply thinking of what else would she make you try on from her new collection.

“Alright, let´s see,” she finally turned around to see you in your lacy bra and the skirt she threw at you. “Oh darling, it´s a bit big, isn´t it?” She asked you kindly and she stepped forward, approaching you. Taking out a little sewing pin from between her lips, she knelt down in front of you and took the fabric in between her fingers.

Being used to that, you just looked forward yourself, focusing on one of the dresses on the hangers. You were that focused you didn´t even realize that your designer wasn´t using only one sewing pin but a whole bunch of them.

“I think it should be okay now,” Larissa said and she kept kneeling in front of you. “Let´s see if we can pull it up,” she said only and she hung her fingers in the waistband of the skirt. As you felt her fingers touch your body, you tensed up and took a deep breath. Larissa pulled the skirt up, just to the level of your upper thighs, slightly revealing the fabric of your underwear. “It´s not too tight, is it?”

“Not at all,” you said finally and looked down at her. Seeing Larissa kneeling in front of you and looking up at you made your breath hitch. And when she took the skirt by her delicate fingers and they slightly touched your bare inner thigh, you let out a shaky breath.

Larissa looked up at you. She was smiling a bit but her eyes were asking you a simple question. Her fingers slid on your upper thigh and slid between them, brushing your thighs.

“You are very pretty darling,” she spoke from between her soft lips and you took another deep breath, letting it out as shaky as never. “Do you mind?” She asked you and kept looking up into your eyes.

You were now literally burning with desire. Looking down at the blonde, you couldn´t answer for a few seconds. Her blue eyes were looking up at you and you were just… trying to breath properly. When you realized what did her question mean, you felt yourself throb and you shook your head slightly.

“Let´s roll this up, shall we?” Larissa asked you and you let her roll your skirt up, revealing the fabric of your lacy thong. Larissa kept looking down between your legs and you looked around, searching for something to support yourself on.

“T-The table,” you said with a shaky voice. Larissa understood that you needed some support, so she picked you up. Your legs were behaving like they weren´t even yours. They wrapped around Larissa´s waist and you let her carry you over to the table, on which she sat you down.

As soon as your bum was sat onto the table, you pulled your legs apart. Watching Larissa kneeling down in front of them, you swallowed and kept watching the tall blonde. She gifted you with a little smile of hers and her hands were already on your inner thighs, making you moan softly. You bit on your lower lip to stop yourself from letting out any types of sounds.

“No need to do that darling. No one is in the building this late anyways,” Larissa said and you released your lip from the grip of your teeth. And then suddenly… Larissa ran her fingers over your thong.

“Mhm,” you breathed out softly and closed your eyes. Larissa brushed her thumb over your thong, making it even more drenched than it was already. As her thumb arrived to your throbbing clit, your muscles tensed on their own.

“Such a beautiful little thing you are,” Larissa breathed out. Her fingers were still running through your thong and she was clearly enjoying the moment. She made few more strokes and then she pulled your thong aside, revealing your dripping wet cunt. “For how long have you been hiding this from me?”

“Long,” you breathed out and didn´t look down at her, because you could already feel her hot breath on your needy little spot. Your stomach was rising and falling faster and faster as the minutes were passing. And suddenly, Larissa´s hot tongue met your slippery wet cunt. “Holy shit-“ you breathed out and threw your head back. You arched in your back as you were laying down and your mouth fell agape.

Her hand brushed your hips. The electricity which she sent into your body just with that one movement was something unbearable. Your hands suddenly travelled into her hair and you pulled on the blonde´s hair softly. “Please-“ you begged her with your eyes still closed and at the end of your desperate beg, you moaned. Larissa, however, didn´t pull away from you and her tongue kept working.

Your breath was getting deeper and deeper as if you were fighting against something. When you felt Larissa´s hand on your inner thigh and travelling upper, you wished for her to stretch you out. That was the only thing on your mind.

“Fuck-“ you moaned only when her fingers teased your entrance. Your eyes opened and you looked between your thighs, seeing only the blonde hair and feeling her presence. “Please Miss-“ you let out another pornographic moan and pushed your hips up. “Please-“

With the last beg, Larissa pushed her fingers up. Smoothly sliding in, she was stretching you out up to the size of your fingers and your tight cunt was adjusting to the stretch.

“I can´t wait to be inside of you darling,” Larissa almost moaned and you felt her coming closer to you. Holding your breath, you only waited for her upcoming action.

She did as she said. Pulling away from you and pulling her fingers out, she left you laying there. When you couldn´t hear anything, you didn´t look up, just peacefully waited for her intentions to come true. But it was taking a little too long… too long for your aching cunt.

“Please-“ you begged her once more and suddenly you felt her warmth against yourself. You looked down and when you saw her ready to continue reaching her pleasure, as she smoothly entered you with her tip. “Mh-“ you moaned softly and your hand covered your eyes at the feeling.

Feeling her sliding inside of you deeper and deeper was making you see stars. With a loud moan you welcomed her inside of you and you kept moaning, not being able to shut yourself up.

“Holy… you feel so warm around me darling…. Look at these beautiful long legs…” Larissa kept mumbling but you heard her anyways. Larissa´s panting was filling the whole room and all you could do was to moan quietly, so no one could hear you… even if the whole building was empty, except for you two.

Moaning at her movements, you gasped when Larissa sped up a bit. You looked up at her, frowning from the pleasure and continued in moaning, letting the woman know how good she was making you feel.

“Oh god- oh!” You let out a high pitched moan when Larissa hit your spot and arched in your back. She lowered her body above yours and her boobs were not really far away from yours. Looking her into her eyes, you moaned once more and then looked between you two.

“That´s it darling… just keep looking at me hm?” Larissa suggested what made you look up into her eyes and you did so. Looking into those beautiful blue eyes was bringing you closer to the edge, just like her cock buried deep inside of you. “If you will keep clenching around me like that, I won´t last long darling-“

“I- I´m on a pill- oh-“ you moaned out with your eyes closed once again. Opening your legs even wider for her, you held your thighs so she didn´t have too much trouble with them.

“That´s a good girl,” Larissa praised you and then she placed her hand on your chest. Her thumb toyed with your stone-hard nipple and you let out a sigh at the stimulation. After that, she got attached to your neck and started sucking on your sweet spot.

“Y-you don´t even know- what you´re doing to me right now,” you moaned out, leaving the woman satisfied. And then… “Oh my Larissa!” you raised your voice when her thrusts became rougher and deeper. You figured that she needed the release just as much as you did.

Larissa then pulled away from you and she moaned softly. “You are clenching around me so hard darling… are you that desperate?” Larissa asked you moaning and you moaned to her in response. You clenched your teeth and whined out.

��Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you let out a moan. “Please-!”

Larissa started rubbing your clit even harder and using even more pressure. Your body turned into a spasm and your thighs were tense. Feeling the clenching ball in your stomach slowly releasing, you let out a high pitched moan and arched in your back.

“I- I- oh god!” You moaned out loudly, chasing your release and Larissa was helping you getting to it. Suddenly your whole world turned upside down and it turned black for a few seconds.

“That´s it darling, that´s it. Let it all out for me…!” Larissa moaned as well and you could feel her cock twitch. With a loud moan, you knew that she was cumming. “Such a good little doll,” she let out another moan and stopped her movements, staying inside of you still. You moaned because you were clenched already and you felt her thick cock.

“Oh my-“ you moaned out as you felt her slip out of you and you stayed in the same spot. Then she kissed you onto your cheek and smiled.

“Now let´s get back into work, shall we?”

#gxg #smut #nevermoreacademy #larissaweems #fluff #prettygreenpills #writers on tumblr #nevermore #shapeshifterlarissa #lesbiansmut #gxgsmut

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carpetbug · 3 months

Text

ML Feline Blue AU Chapter Two: The Pont des Arts

1 • 2 [tw: blood and slightly gory imagery]

ao3

The last time Marinette had felt such paralyzing anxiety as she traveled towards the Pont de Arts was middle school. It was the day she realized she had a crush on Kim, and Socqueline - her best friend at the time, who left Francois’s Dupont at the end of 8th grade - had almost immediately shut down the immature day dream that was their future together. Still, Marinette had made her way to the bridge after school to stare at the locks of all the couples that had been here before her and conjure up sickeningly sweet fake scenarios of her new heartthrob. The craziest thing she had done that day was silently wish that Kim would magically reciprocate her romantic feelings, and still it had felt like she was walking some invisible tightrope, putting her life on the line for some spectacular balancing act she knew she could never pull off. She can still remember the way her hands shook and stomach churned while she perused the locks that decorated the bridge's walls. The fear she felt that day, that heavy stone of discomfort that lodged itself in her stomach, she felt it now all the same. Only this time, instead of feeling like she was merely risking her life, she could have sworn she was marching straight to death's door. And the miniature ladybug creature, this ‘kwami’, was doing little to put her unease to bed.

“You’re not listening, are you Marinette?” the alien-like red bug questioned delicately with a slight inflection to her already syrupy voice. Her eyes softened with guilt when Marinette met her expression with a lost look, lips parted slightly as she struggled to respond.

“I-I’m sorry.. uh.. Tek…?”

“Tikki” the small bug smiled patiently.

“Right. Tikki. I’m sorry Tikki” Marinette sighed and adjusted her hold on the miracle box. What a guardian she would be, she couldn’t even remember this kwamis name. How was she supposed to do.. well, everything else?

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“I died. That old man pushed me into the seine and I died.” Marinette stammered in disbelief as her limbs pushed her away from these freaks of nature without waiting for her brain's command.

“Don’t be scared, Marinette! We’re your friends!” The ladybug themed creature said reassuringly, dropping the intense tone with which she was speaking seconds prior. She, along with all the other small beings, floated effortlessly in the air. “I am Tikki, the kwami of creation. We aren’t going to hurt you, Master”

“Master?” Marinettes throat went bone dry as the words rattled her brain. She was their master? “Oh my god I’ve actually lost my mind.” She chuckled under her breath. The chuckle morphed to a steady laughter, and soon enough she was doubled over in hysterics, hands clutching her sides so tightly she could feel her nails digging into her ribcage. “That OLD man PUSHED me into the SEINE and I DIED!” She shouted in a side-splitting roar of laughter.

“Good job Sugarcube, now she’s having a breakdown.” Marinette heard a much more sour voice taunt. Suddenly what seemed like a million more voices chirped in, each unique in its pitch and pronunciation, and each more desperate to be heard than the last. She could only hear broken sentences and words through the plethora of noise from the kwamis and her own uncontrollable laughter, an occasional ‘We’re doomed!’ and ‘Master Fu!’ catching her ear.

“Just hush, Plagg!” the ladybug scoffed in annoyance. She darted closer to Marinette, small fin-like arm extending to pat her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Tune them out Marinette, you simply need time. Your bravery will surface soon.” She tried to soothe the frantic girl before returning her attention to the other beings. “Everyone, please listen! We can’t do this now, not to her.” Tikki spoke sternly, yet the words hung in the air like a plea. “I.. I’m certain none of us are ready to speak about Master Fu," a dejected tone began to cling to her small voice as she continued “But he wants us to go forward. And he needs us to guide the new guardian”. Marinette looked up as her voice began to catch in her throat, a pang of pity shooting through her unstable heart at the sight of the tears beginning to pool in the small beings eyes.

“Master Fu?” Marinette repeated softly, peeling her hands off her body and standing up from the rough cement platform that offered her safety. With a powerful shudder she became painfully aware that she was still soaked from the seine. Her hands traveled up to her hair, removing the smooth ribbon that held together her right pigtail - the left had come undone in the water. “Is that... was that the old man?” She asked the kwamis with a weary tone, eyes trained on her soggy shoes as her hands wrung out her dark hair of the water still wearing it down. “Why did he-?”

“Throw you in a river?” the sour voice chimed in again. It belonged to the black cat, who was now floating leisurely on his back with a yawn. Marinette was almost certain she could see sharp teeth in the kwamis mouth. Tikki shot him a deathly glare, but he went on. “I’m Plagg, kwami of destruction, lover of cheese” He stated with casual disinterest, as if nothing traumatic had just occurred. “Not his smartest move, I’ll agree. But-” he sat upright and narrowed his eyes, voice taking a more serious tone “-he did what he had to do to keep us all safe.” his long tail flicked, motioning to the other kwamis. “That includes you.”

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“I was telling you about the kwamis, '' Tikki chirped, following by her guardian's side while levitating in the air. Marinette nodded, quickly glancing up to check what street they had reached, then darting her eyes back down to the wooden box she had hugged to her chest. It was getting harder and harder to focus on the bugs' words, her mind occupied only with thoughts of Master Fu. Despite the kwamis, and the freezing water that seems to have seeped into her bones, and the distressed voices in her head yelling at her that she was alone in this, Marinette couldn’t shake the idea that this man was still alive. He would be waiting at the Pont de Arts, ready to retrieve his miracle box and kwamis, and he'd reassure her that she would never have to worry about any of this miraculous nonsense ever again. Marinette wasn’t going to find his body. She wouldn’t.

“There's nineteen kwamis in all, but two of us are missing. Nooro and Duusu are the kwamis of transmi-”

“Tikki, I’m- I can’t-” Marinette bit her tongue as she fought to find the right words.

“What is it Marinette?”

“I’m sorry but I just can’t talk about this with you. It’s just… too much” Marinette mumbled, wishing the earth would open up beneath her and swallow her whole. “Can’t this Master Fu just explain things to me when we find him?”

Tikki blinked in surprise and remained silent for a few seconds. Then, she nodded and feigned a weak smile. “Of course Marinette. If we find Master Fu he will explain everything” she reassured.

Marinette nodded absentmindedly, taking another brief glimpse at the street signs and sighing in relief at seeing they were close to their destination. Suddenly this all felt like some sort of fever dream, like she would go home and sleep tonight then wake up in the morning with nothing changed. Except maybe she would always think about being thrown in the seine, the cold and brutal water that had seeped through her skin, leaving her fingertips wrinkled and pruny against the wood of the miracle box. And sure, it might feel real enough that her knees still wobble a bit as she walks, but everyone has horrible nightmares sometimes - right?

“Marinette”

“One second, Tikki” she stopped the kwami, still stuck in her train of thought.

“Marinette!” Tikki had paused, and Marinette turned her head to see the small red kwami floating, arm extended to point at the bridge that suddenly seemed to appear in front of them. When had they gotten here?

“Oh. Great, we’re here! Let’s find this Fu-Man and let me get home so I can go to bed and forget all about this.” She adjusted her hold on the box and began to cross the wide bridge when Tikki darted in front of her with urgency.

“Wait! Master, I must tell you, thi-”

“Sorry, but please just call me Marinette.”

Tikki smiled and continued “Marinette, I have to quickly warn you that- even we kwamis are not sure of the lengths this villain is willing to go. We do not know if he acts with mercy, so this may be something you don’t want to see. If you’d like, I can go ahead without you and see for myself then come back?”

Marinette scrunched her nose as she thought for a few moments. Eventually she shook her head and smiled- a genuine and kind smile that made Tikkis heart ache. “No need, I’ll come with you. You’ve been here for me during all this, so I want to be here for you until you’re back in good hands” she promised.

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“He was being chased?” Marinette questioned, reeling from the information the cat kwami had just dumped over her head like cold water. Fu had been pursued by some unknown antagonist for several weeks, until they eventually found and attacked the guardian. Marinette had only been an innocent bystander, a stranger in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a helping hand when Fu was at his most desperate for any kind of savior. She was the only way to get the miracle box out of the villains' reach in such a short amount of time. And the seine had been the only way to get her out of danger.

“More like hunted” Plagg sneered in response and crossed his arms

“Plagg, you're scaring her!”

“She should be scared!”

While the black and red kwami hissed at each other, the girl's head was spinning, overwhelmed with this new world she was suddenly a part of. There were so many questions running through her mind, all begging to be answered. But the most desperate one came first “Can we go back to the Pont des Arts?” She asked softly, interrupting their argument.

Plaggs expression widened in shock, and he was about to protest when Tikki stopped him. “Good idea, I’ll have all the kwamis return to the miracle box.”

“Well, wait-” she stopped her “Will you stay with me? I would feel a bit better if I had someone more informed by my side”

The red bug smiled and nodded, still ignoring the bewildered look from the cat. Before he could say anymore, she turned back to the kwamis, leaving him grumbling and following after her.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“God. It’s already three a.m, papa is going to be awake and getting started in the bakery soon.” Marinette muttered to herself while checking the time, her and Tikki moving at a slow pace across the bridge. It was dark, the moon providing the majority of the lighting cast down on them. And, it was almost entirely silent. Save for the constant rushing of the water beneath the bridge -the sound was making her hands begin to shake all over again-, and the occasional distant hum of a car passing nearby.

“A bakery?” Tikki whispered in response.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “My parents own a bakery. ‘Tom and Sabines’.” Her hands came together then spread like she was forming a rainbow in the air as she spoke, adding a loving touch to the simple name. Tikki gave a light giggle.

“Sounds amazing! What kind of sweets do they make?” the red bug questioned before suddenly gasping, “Do they make cookies?! I haven’t had a chocolate chip cookie in so long!”

Marinette was taken back by the kwamis sudden eagerness for one of the simplest sweets their bakery had to offer, but she couldn’t help but give an entertained laugh. “We make all kinds of cookies. Snickerdoodle, peanut butter, red velvet, oatmeal raisin, -”

“Yuck.”

“Don’t you dare say that about oatmeal raisin cookies.”

“Get to the good stuff!”

She stuck her tongue out teasingly at the kwami before continuing, “chocolate chip, chocolate chunks, and like a billion other ones I'm forgetting. Give or take seasonal and custom flavors my dad makes from time to time, too.” When she looked up, Marinette swore a line of drool was trailing from Tikkis mouth, but as soon as she had noticed it the bug was in her face in excitement once again.

“Wow!” Tikki exclaimed. “I can’t wait to try them.”

“How long has it been since you last had a cookie?” she asked. Marinette wondered what parts of human life the kwamis knew of and took part in, given the ‘secrecy’ about their existence. They were familiar enough to have opinions on cookie flavors, apparently.

“Oh, I'm not sure. I haven’t had a holder in a few decades, though I have left the miracle box during that time, - Marinette? Are you not listening again?”

Almost as soon as the kwami had started talking, Marinette had frozen her stare on something ahead of them, and she seemed a million worlds away. Tikki turned to look and her heart dropped.

Blood soaked into the wood underfoot, leaving a dark stain that seemed pure black in the night time. More sat in small pools and splatters, some spraying across the lock decorations and steadily drip-drip-dripping into the surface below. The longer she stared the more she realized the Pont des Arts would now always feel like it had been smeared with death. It was all too fresh, like someone had drained the old man of all his blood and used it like paint, spreading the viscous liquid on any surface they could. It seemed like both an introduction, and parting gift. The display was left with intent, the predator that had gotten Fu was leaving a warning for whoever tried to come to his rescue. It said ‘I’m here, look what I am capable of. Look at everything I did. Look at what I’m willing to do.’

Marinette took a step back, mouth agape as she realized breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. Her blood pounded in her ears, droning out the seemingly fraught help Tikki was trying to provide the panicked girl. Another step back and her legs buckled, dropping her directly into the glistening pools of gore. Her hands clenched into fists, now stained a dark red as she kneeled in the blood, and she panted in desperate need for air. It seemed to hang in the air now, the metallic tang filling her mouth and nose.

“Marinette!”

The screech - almost directly in her ear - snapped her attention back to the ladybug creature, whose voice was feverish with alarm. “Tikki..” she breathed, still struggling to keep from hyperventilating. “Tikki, this is him, isn’t it?” Marinette brought her hands up, now holding them raised in the air to shine in the moonlight. The crimson liquid trickled from her palm to her wrist, then down her elbow and back to the bridge. “This is Master Fu?” the tears began to fall down her cheeks now, the reality setting in. She was the guardian. She was alone.

“You need to get home.”

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Marinette gets home, soaked (though no longer bloody, thanks to an alley hose she passed on her walk), and exhausted. Her breathing still awkward and unbalanced, lungs aching from whatever water she took in from the seine. Her emotions bubble inside her, threatening to spill over from her eyes once again. It was bad enough you could tell she had been crying already, she didn’t need her parents to see her in the act. Tikki rested on her shoulder, tucked neatly into her hair as they approached the bakery.

“Home sweet home” she said, waving her hands with pretend enthusiasm as she tried to revive the playful energy they had earlier. Instead her voice felt deflated and hollow. Her hands reached for the doorknob, shaking slightly as they hovered above it.

“Do you not want to go in?”

“Its not that.”

“Marinette. You can talk to me”

Marinette took a deep breath. “I can’t hide all this from my parents. Not yet, at least. If I go inside now and they’re awake, they'll know I was outside then they’ll see I was crying and I’m terrible at hiding things from my maman so one word from her and I’ll instantly spill everything that happened and then they-”

“Slow, Marinette. Is there any way you can sneak in?”

“Only through a window or my balcony, both of which I definitely can't reach from down here” she huffed, the puff of breath blowing through her still damp bangs that hung across her face. She was about to grit her teeth and accept the inevitable interrogation her parents would give when Tikki spoke again.

“I can fix that.” the kwami gave a sweet smile before phasing seamlessly through the wood of the miracle box and returning with a small case in her arms. “These are the miraculous of the ladybug. If you put on these earrings and say ‘Spots On’, you'll transform and be able to get to your balcony undetected.”

Marinette hesitated, then reached for the box and opened the lid to peek at the miraculous. Inside were two round, red earrings each with five small spots, which she carefully plucked from their resting places. They went through her ears effortlessly and lacked the weight that many earrings came with. “Please don’t tell me this is going to hurt” she wheezed, eyes drooping with sleep.

“Definitely not.” Tikki reassured quickly. “When you’re inside just say ‘Spots Off’ to drop the transformation.”

“Well… spots on?”

Tikki flew through the air, this time as if she was being pulled by some invisible force - one coming from the earrings. Her vision exploded with pink as bubbling, glowing masses appeared out of thin air and swarmed onto her body. She held her breath and pressed her eyes closed, still awaiting a sting or ache to overtake her body despite Tikkis reassurance. Instead the magical clouds felt light and tingly on her skin as they passed over her from head to toe.

The buzz came to a stop in a few moments which Marinette took as a cue to open her eyes. Nothing around her had changed, she was still standing outside the bakery clutching the miracle box, only now she was dressed in a sleek red and black spotted suit from neck to toe. She was a ladybug.

Marinettes breathing hitched in her chest as she ran her gloved hand across the material, then up to her face where she felt the grooves of a mask across her eyes. Built in secret identity, cool. She felt refreshed, the soreness in her legs was now just a weak discomfort. She took a relieved breath, and slowly stretched her limbs as she gathered her bearings. A yoyo rested on her hip, also a solid red with five black spots like the earrings, but with the same honeycomb texturing of her suit.

“A yoyo? I’m going to… yoyo to my room?” she mumbled to herself as she gave it a few experimental tosses. Looking up, she took a few breaths and prepared herself. She took a step back and threw the yo-yo towards a neighboring roof, then gave a slight tug when it had wrapped around some solid object. It pulled her effortlessly from the ground, propelling her upwards while she struggled, airborne, like a fish out of water. In moments she landed, almost entirely flat on her face, on the spine of the rooftop.

It took a minute for Marinette to figure out her next step, which ended up being just to drop from the roof to her balcony. It had seemed much more complicated in her head, like she would have to be some ninja, hiding in the shadows. But she had left the trapdoor to her room unlocked, so it had required no more effort than opening a door. She landed softly on her bed, and subsequently threw herself back onto her blankets with an exasperated sigh.

“Spots off” she mumbled, already fighting the alluring call of sleep. Another flash of the magic light and the suit was gone, leaving Tikki in its place. She looked around, observing her new environment before turning back to Marinette.

“Home sweet home” She echoed the previous statement, then burrowed into the crook of Marinettes elbow as the girl groggily put herself to bed. With the miracle box held firmly in her grip, and the deep ache slowly returning to her muscles as the magic of the miraculous wore off, she mumbled a barely coherent goodnight to Tikki and let herself fall into the comfort of sleep.

#ml feline blue au #ml fbau #carpetbug writes #carpetbug art #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #ml #marinette #miraculous fanart #ml au #tikki #ml fic #YIPPEEEEEE FELINE BLUE #still very excited about this story lmao #next up is origins!! i’ll try to update weekly but i make no promises #wasn’t too sure what to put for the trigger warning so i hope that’s good! please let me know if it is not

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crybabycunt · 8 months

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Clint: I don't think that's such a good idea, kid. It sounds reckless.

Kate: Well, you can't stop me.

Clint: (about to speak)

Kate: I'LL DO WHAT I WANT, CLI-

Clint: I'm calling Yelena.

Kate: Wait, no, no, no.

#bishova #bishlova #kate bishop #yelena belova #black widow #hawkeye #crack #funny #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #marvel incorrect quotes #yelena belova incorrect quotes #kate bishop incorrect quotes #bishova incorrect quotes #bishlova incorrect quotes

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cliban · 5 months

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the AMOUNT of times i have seen a cool blogger today and then gone to their blog to follow them only to be confronted with an honestly weird amount of dismissal/outright hatred for trans men, transmasculine people, and/or butches is actually insane

#cli speaks #idk maybe its just a coincidence but i just wanna follow ppl with cool perspectives on transfemininity/transneutrality #i love reading the stories of trans people who have a completely different experience than mine #vent #<- ig #discourse #<- not entirely relevant but i do want to cover my bases

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ultraviolet-cello · 3 months

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Gooooood morning Trigun fandom, I'm up bright and early, ready to sink my teeth into today's analysis/detailed watchthrough episode - 11. To A New World.

I can't believe we're almost done with @tristampparty. These 12 days have been a blast and I'm very glad that I got to chat abt them!! I've been in a bout of artblock recently too, so I'm glad that I can just ramble instead!

Spoilers for Trigun Stampede and Trigun Maximum, and CWs for. okay this one is a Lot, but discussion of violation of bodily autonomy, sexual assault and trauma, pregnancy, transphobia, harm coming to children, Millions Knives in general, Vash's passive suicidal tendencies. If I think of any more I'll pop them up here but this episode is a heavy one!

If you wanna skip those first few CWs (Totally understandable <3), you can skip the paragraphs labelled with a [CW] at the front.

[CW] Okay so we're gonna tail off the end of Episode 10 for a second, but uh. Knives in this scene is using extremely Loaded Language to outright tell Vash that there is something wrong with him that needs to be fixed.

Just to be clear I do think Vash is very trans-coded (intentionally or not), and that very strongly influences how I interpret this scene - I myself am a trans man as well.

Cool, moving on! That's all really for the end of ep 10, I just needed to point out that Knives is using language that is commonly used to justify corrective sexual assault; which is pretty much what my reading of this scene is analogous to.

what in the fresh hell i got jumpscared by dub again. returning to subs hold on a moment. Like i've been checking dub occasionally to match up some dialogue and make sure I'm not being misled by Subtitle Jank but I'm one of those guys who can't listen to anything without subtitles lmao

But i also think i do get the funniest possible translation of this line - actually wait no i hate the double meaning (with Vash's body being used to kickstart the pregnancy imagery). was that intentional. who did this.

Anyway Meryl kicking Wolfwood is really funny but also like. Yeah. justified. She's having a no good awful time but like. She's so willing to believe in Vash, to chase after him even into Extremely Dangerous conditions (There's those hints of Trimax Meryl again....) and Wolfwood is being an ass here. (An understandable ass. But an ass nonetheless). Which is to say YEAHHH MERYL GET HIS ASS!!!

Knives' gay little like. bodysuit here. He and Vash have the same build but their respective clothes make them stand out very differently. Also that Knives' stuff seems to have more muscle definition (HYDRATE. You shouldn't have that Knives you need water :pensive:) which could be building towards his more intimidating appearance.

Also I'd be a fool to not show everyone my initial reaction to this

I've talked a little bit about how Vash uses his gun as a tonfa (thwacky baton) most of the time in melee combat, and I think that's a great way to show him utilizing something Knives gave him to Kill as a nonlethal weapon - in this, however, he doesn't have it and his normally very fluid very good form martial arts is flailing and panicked. Vash is pretty good at keeping his cool in most combat situations, and is a very skilled fighter. Seeing him lose that cool and just start struggling when Knives tries to grab him is :(

Once again the metal/organic dichotomy is coming into play - the creation of inorganic but the destruction that comes from the organic. Typically plant (as in flora) powers in media lend themselves to being creation powers, life, and healing. But Vash here has that plant (flora) theme but those are very much a force for destruction.

Also Knives with the angelic white, and Vash with the black.

I hate Conrad So Much (he's such a good character). Like we Know to some extent that dependent plants are self-aware enough to feel pain, to hold onto memories, to hatred, to love. They don't have consciousness the same way humans or Independents do, but they feel, they live, they understand what Vash tells them. Maybe it is a shallow form of themselves. But I think something a lot of people fail to realize is that (some, not all, because they are individuals even throughout a hivemind) plants appear to enjoy their purpose.

Once again the memory that is shared with Knives in Trimax of a woman and her child thanking the plant for her service and she smiles? After being fused, that plant held onto that memory. I've been given no reason to believe that plants in Tristamp are different, so Conrad is just,,, ignoring the subtleties of plants and taking away their agency to choose for themselves. Doubly so for Knives, who can communicate efficiently with them.

A very quick blink and you'll miss it detail is that Vash says "It was our fault humans crashed here!". The shifting blame and guilt between the two is something that is fighting the narrative allll the time, but Vash attributing to both of them as an appeal to Knives is interesting to relay how he feels.

I also don't think Vash is right, though, when he says the only reason humans abuse plants is because they crashed. Tesla was before, Chronica in Trimax has apparently seen independent fusions before (For what reason?). Like yeah to this extent it's a result of the big fall, but there'd still be problems without it. Nobody is right in this argument lmao

(except me. I'm always correct about everything ever)

[CW] Once again - violating Vash's consent and autonomy because he does not agree with or differs from Knives. Corrective violation, in this case. It's also important that it's Meryl who calls this out - she has to really really struggle for her autonomy to be important. She's small, carry-able, inexperienced, doesn't have any special powers or genetic modification. She's carrying a tiny gun from a man who can never back her up anymore. In fact, nobody is backing her up! She's out here alone! But she's sticking up for Vash. She cares about him,,,, so much

SURPRISE ROBERTO ATTACK [sobs]

Meryl pulled the nail out of him and placed his hands gently over the wound, as one might do in a casket. A memorial of cigarettes and his flask. All this will be destroyed soon, but Meryl did give him a funeral to the best of her ability.

Knives using Roberto's image is cruel as hell. Not to Vash but to ME. He's already dead you can't do this to meeee. "How do you think they'll react when they learn you caused the big fall" He will never learn it!! he never got the chance!!!

So fun fact you can actually eat geraniums. It's just that if Rem had said yes Vash probably would have eaten it right there and then. I've made that mistake before (told one of my class that nasturtiums were edible and he just ate one. right from the plant)

So; the Tesla scene. Something I do want to point out is that Rem finds them almost immediately, and Knives doesn't immediately pass out - Is he still catatonic enough to miss Rem's speech, or did he hear it? Because the reason that Vash turned out like he did is because he was awake to go through that with Rem - Knives was unconscious the entire time and didn't get to start that trauma recovery.

It's also important to recognize that these memories could be unreliable, especially as Knives tampers with them later.

I do want to know which version of the Bible Knives was reading. Because depending on translation/version, you can get Very different ideas out of that.

Anyway Knives is kind of beginning his spiral in that memory - "Humanity never learns" kinda shit, which seems to take place after Tesla. Who knows how long. But baby Vash calls that out and goes "yeah lets have faith"! Baby Knives looks a tad shocked and then Present Knives just. Cuts off the memory. What was the ensuing conversation!!! Hello???

Like he's clearly Having Thoughts (The Horror), we just don't get to know what those were.

So remember when I said it was interesting that Vash said it was "our" fault that the ships crashed, sharing the blame?

Yeah that gave Knives some ammo that just. Broke him. Shifts it allllll to Vash. Update Vash's description to running on 18 guilt complexes, CPTSD, and bisexuality.

[CW] There's so many different forms of assault, metaphorical and. Not. That is happening in this scene from mind violation to Knives literally using Vash's (specifically Vash's) body as a vessel to impregnate other plants which. Hey did you know that pregnancy is a massive fear of a lot of trans men. So many transphobes reduce trans men to their capability to have children, as if that's all they're good for (even if it would kill them.), and that often leads to corrective rape in order to "remind them of biological reality". In this case, Vash is a plant, he's meant to create, and yet he doesn't. But he's still being used to create anyway.

Again, Meryl also directly calls out Vash's lack of consent and gets shot down by Conrad. The whole scene is just. Hgnrhgnhrhnrnrn. It's So,,, everything to me, because it's a really good scene and shows you how far gone Knives is in Tristamp.

There are panels in Trimax that are,,, the imagery is there, but it's very overt in Tristamp.

Also hey yeah. Why is Conrad still alive?? Did he have access to cold sleep? or it's probably the robotics but did he not think of enhancing humans that way? It might just be a temporary solution, I guess, given that he is. Actively coughing up blood.

Alright! I have finished this part of the analysis that I always Feel Strongly about lmao - I have fun doing it but that's such an emotionally heavy episode.

#cli speaks #trigun #trigun stampede #tristampparty #cli analysis

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junos-oc-emporium · 5 months

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i think the best part of my experience in telling stories is how much it's a collaborative effort, even if i've done everything. fandom ocs, rambling to friends and going actually!! that works!! hell, the sapphorce was a joke my friend made up and i was like give me that we're getting space lesbians

#cli speaks #not to mention all the little ideas and workarounds #and inspiration i get from my friends. idk feeling sappy tonight

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snailsnaps · 4 months

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Part 2 of a Computer Science student's analysis of the FNAF: SB intro

Full with tech lingo, abundant personal interpretations, and translations so that my tech illiterate fellas may undertand whatever the fuck im yapping about!

This post is written under the context that you've read my last analysis. I highly recommend you first check out these two posts before continuing with this one if you haven't already: > First post + Continuation ( IMPORTANT!! ) > An addition to the first post

Once you've read through those two (three?) posts, come back here! You're back? You've read them? Awesome! Let's begin then. =)

Reminder! This analysis has been done based off of my own understanding of the subject of both computing and programming - which I am currently studying. I would also like to yet again shout out this reddit post, that also gives a great perspective. Definitely check it out if you're interested later!

Also I have not re-read this, you may find typos - don't hold it against me, they will be fixed, someday =(

Now then, fellas, this is where shit gets wild.

Last post, I talked about the command box we can see at the top right corner of the intro - what each command did and how it basically corresponded to what happens to freddy in the events of the intro.

However, you might recall I mentioned a second command box, the one found at the left side of the screen. This command box is by far the most important piece of information we have throughout the entire duration of the intro. Mostly, because it changes 3 times.

It changes a total of 3 times in the time it takes for the right command box to finish.

Each time it changes, it displays new lines of code. And every single line of code it displays, tells us a lot about what is happening to Freddy.

This is the first block of code that we get:

system32> Get-568_win heat_869%yTnu_bl8 lvl_b> 228.wst serial.dot_btb rec.556> dtd /

You might inmediately realize that the first line of code from this command box matches exactly the one from the first analysis. Here are both of them as comparison.

Hopefully, you've already made the connection. This command box is the one possibly being run by the Glitchtrap/Vanny Virus. Whatever lines of code appear on the command box to the left, are the ones being executed by the Virus - and they affect Freddy in real time. However, the command box on the right ir Freddy's, so to speak.

Both CLI (command line interfaces) are being run at the same time - yet independently of one another. Keep this in mind.

I don't want to go too in depth with this first block of code. All you need to know is that it moves around some directories and runs something called 'dtd', wich could be a command or a program.

The next two blocks of code, however? Ohhh damn... This is it, fellas. This is what I've been waiting for.

Now, I want you to know that this doesn't quite resemble any 'real' code, at least not at first glance. I do believe that it is a very 'condensed' form of the Python programming language, since the syntaxing of the commands shown here somewhat resemble how a string written in Python would look like.

So, I have taken the time to try to decipher what each line means, and what they do. And well, let's just say it explains why Freddy wasn't affected by the Virus in the first place.

def rule(x) return warning78 init; self_overdrive abort(3)RTLKt abort(5)XGE END

This is the second block of code that we're shown, so lets break it down.

def rule(x) return warning78 init;

This string would define "rule" as a function, specifying "x" as the parameter. Basically, this line specifies that if the command rule is inputted, it should return whatever value (or argument) x has taken.

Normally, define is followed by a return function, which is why I've shown them together, as well as the init; command.

The command return followed by "warning78", makes it so whenever we call upon the function rule, it shows us whatever warning78 may be - and judging as to what happens in the intro, it could be any of the multiple warnings that appear in Freddy's GUI. Or it could also easily be the big "WARNING!" message that can be seen the entire time near the top of the screen.

Lastly, the init; command isn't exactly a standardized python command - but it is a common abreviation of the initialization command, where in the field of programming, it means "the assignment of an initial value for a data object or variable". Basically, it's when you assign the initial values and variables to a program so it can start.

All in all, these three lines create a command that, when called upon, gives out the warning78.

self_overdrive

Again, not really a python function, but important nontheless. This command doesn't have a specific meaning, but we can try to understand what it does.

The term overdrive doesn't really exist in the field of computing/programming. However, it is asociated with overclocking - "the practice of increasing the clock rate of a computer to exceed that certified by the manufacturer" - Overdrive is also a term in the field of music, also known as distorsion, which is when you force an amplifier to output past its limits.

Both of these definitions go around the same concept, pushing a computer to its limits so that it works better, or faster - even while it possibly damages the computer.

We can then assume that the function self_overdrive is making Freddy's system run pasts its usual limits. Which is why I believe Freddy's integrity level plumits during the intro.

abort(3)RTLKt abort(5)XGE END

Lastly, we have these three lines.

The abort function isn't a real python function - but I believe you can asume what it does. Both lines are attempting to kill something - a program, a process, another function... However, I am not sure wether these two are really functions, since they could very easily be error handling messages. Essencially, warning messages that the system returns when something crashes, for example.

The last line, END, specifies the end of this string of code.

Which leads us to the third and last block of code. The one which in my professional opinion, is the one that reveals to us why Freddy's cool with us during Security Breach! =]

report.NULL gridlock [ax674] init_task>void alloc [overload] SW.failure return /

THIS IS WHAT WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR, FRIENDS. THIS IS IT. This is the part where I had the most fun with this analysis...

report.NULL

Now, usually report, in the field of programming and software, it means to record or log something. For example an error log, or crash log. However, it being followed by NULL could also mean that this is an error handling message of sorts.

In computing, Null is, well, zero. It's nothing. It's the absence of value, when something that should be there, isn't.

From this, we could gather that this is a warning message that attempted to report something, yet failed to find anything to report back. No value at all.

...or, we could take this line literally. Taking into consideration that this code is being executed by the virus - this line of code could be taken as an attempt by the virus to stop Freddy's system from freaking out.

Remember that this entire code is being executed as Freddy's actively getting a big flashing WARNING! message. So, this line of code could be an effort to silence it, returning a null value to a warning message.

Both scenarios are plausible, so stick with the one you think fits best!

gridlock [ax674]

This one... man... this line was wild. It's where everything clicked for me. You will want to ignore the characters [ax674], what we truly care about is the first word: gridlock.

You see, a gridlock isn't really a term used in computing at all. It is a term refering to a "severe congestion of traffic, where continuous queues of vehicles block an entire intersection". HOWEVER, gridlock is also known as another term for deadlock.

A deadlock is what's known as a stalemate. A situation where two opposing parties come to a point where no progress can be made. In programming, it means basically the same thing.

A situation where two processes can't proceed, since both of them are waiting for the other to release a resource. Now, imagine this scenario. We have two processes, A and B, and two resources, R1 and R2.

Process A is currently using resource R1.

Process B is currently using resource R2.

Process A requests resource R2, but is blocked because it's held by Process B.

Process B requests resource R1, but is blocked because it's held by Process A.

Now... imagine this situation, but with Freddy, and the virus.

What we most likely have here, the line gridlock [ax674], is an error handling message, warning that a deadlock is ocurring. The string of characters beside it has no meaning, and could easily be but an error handling code of sorts.

init_task>void

I've explained before that init is the abreviation of initialization. So, we can gather that this is a command that is attempting to initialize a task. Now then, in the context of the previous line, this one could mean one of two things:

The virus is attempting to initialize a task (a set of instructions) called void.

The virus is attempting to initialize a task, however, due to the deadlock, it returns this line as an error message, indicating a void return. In programming, when a function returns the word void, it usually means that the function was not able to return a value. It is similar to Null, yet not the same.

Either of these could be a posibility, so I will leave it to your personal interpretation.

And here it when it all goes to hell...

alloc [overload] SW.failure return

Alloc is not a real function, but it can be considered an abreviation of the word allocation. In computing, the allocation is the assignment of memory and resources to the various processes the system may have.

Proper memory and resource allocation is very important in a computer. As you may know, a computer as a limited amount of RAM it can work with, and the same goes for it's processing power. But, for example, what happens when you try to allocate resources that aren't available?

Well, a lot of things may happen. Mainly, the program could hang, the process could freeze - or the entire system could crash!

Remember earlier, we saw that it was likely that Freddy and the virus were in a deadlock. Yet, the Virus tried to allocate more resources to itself... Which overloaded the system, and likely resulted in the next line.

SW.failure has no real meaning - but I've interpreted the first two characters [SW] as software. This would make this line an error message warning about a software failure.

So... What does this all mean? How does it all tie together? Why didn't Freddy get infected by the Virus? Because it got too greedy. It tried to allocate too many resources/memory, overloaded the system and crashed both itself and Freddy.

Why only Freddy, though? Why didn't this happen to the other animatronics? That... I'm not sure. I believe this is more of a lore question rather than computer question.

In my opinion, I don't think this was a case of 'Freddy knew that he was getting infected by a virus, and fought back'. I'm leaning more to the posibility of it being a 'wrong place wrong time' type of situation... or maybe 'right place right time'? In general, a lot of factors and a lot of different things happened that lead to this specific scenario happening.

Anyways, this is it! This has been my analysis - or nerdy infodumping, if you please.

I do hope that I was able to teach you something today, and that this whole analysis helps you understand the animatronics a bit better - and helps you with future fanfics, comics, AUs, artworks... whatever!

One last reminder - if you have any more questions about this stuff, my ask box is open! I love talking about this stuff!!

Oh, and, coming soon...

DJMM's Bouncer Mode ! A theory by a computer science student as to why it's still present, and why it makes him so aggressive.

#oh god is this post too long?#i hope this doesn't crash anyones phone im so sorry #anyways yea. DJMM bouncer mode explained coming soon #not me being a computer nerd AGAIN?#fnaf #fnaf sb #fnaf security breach #five nights at freddy's #security breach #snailsnarks #fnaf djmm #fnaf dj music man

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