#gold and red theme for him because . well obvious reasons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 days

Text

🧁 cupcake analysis 🧁

YES, YOU READ THAT CORRECTLY 🤡 I’m still fixated on the cute character-themed cupcakes we got from the recent TsumTsums x TWST collab… so I’m going to talk about more things I noticed in the cupcake designs by dorm + by individual characters!

Mmm, cupcakes… 🧁 I would make these if only I had the tools to make all of the painstaking little details—

Heartslabyul

They all have checkered cupcake liners with a half-painted white rose. Famous Heartslabyul iconography!

Their names are written out in a white cursive font. Not the wackiest they could have gone with, but it fits the whimsical style of these cupcakes.

Riddle

Of course, we have strawberries—a fruit from Riddle’s favorite dessert, his beloved strawberry tarts (which also have personal significance to him, being as it was a strawberry tart’s taste that entranced him and made him late to return home as a child). The ring of frosting piped around the strawberries kind of creates the illusion of a tart’s puff pastry with the fruit nesting inside.

Red frosting made with a piping tip to resemble a big rose! Again, more famous Heartslabyul iconography.

IT HAS RIDDLE’S HEART AHOGE 😭

The cupcake also has the crown and a ribbon similar to the ones he wears in his Dorm Uniform~

Unlike the other Heartslabyul cupcakes, Riddle’s is predominantly one color: red. This could be referring to how Riddle is the most rigid in the dorm and someone who demands uniformity and preaches absolutism (“follow the rules”, “paint all the roses red”, etc.).

Even so! There are still little gold and blue sprinkles (though still in a neat arrangement)! I like to think of them as sprinkles of hope and a willingness to change… the first step he’s taking outside of his comfort zone!

No card; this makes sense since Riddle is also the only one without a card suit mark on his face.

Trey

The cookie iced to look like his hat…

Another cookie iced to look like the three of clubs heart (for obvious reasons)!

Trey’s cupcake looks kinda fuzzy like moss, so that leads me to believe the frosting got dipped in sanding sugar to give it texture or something. This makes the cupcake look like it’s an unassuming shrub—and really, isn’t that what Trey claims to be? He’s not an exciting red rose like Riddle, he’s the mild-mannered “normal” guy there to support the flower as the leaves and shoots.

Sugared violets as a topping! Nice way of incorporating Trey’s favorite food into this.

He has a little dusting of sprinkles too; maybe because it was him that showed Riddle “a whole new world”.

There seems to be a layer of jagged chunks (maybe crushed pistachios) along the rim. Feels quite different than the rest of the cake—maybe it’s to represent the less kind side of himself that Trey sometimes alludes to.

Two cookie sticks, which remind me of like two spears crossing to block off a path to the queen. On-brand for Trey, who initially follows Riddle’s orders to a T and kicks out his rule-breaking underclassmen.

Cater

There’s a LOT going on here, and I wonder if that��s in part because Cater is a Magicam fiend and in part because he’s using his flashiness to distract from looking deeper into him. This cupcake reflects that idea well, especially with the colorful sprinkles in the center (as opposed to spread out like Trey or Riddle’s) to make the otherwise mainly orange and red cake pop out more on a social media feed. It also could mean that Cater really keeps to himself, as the sprinkles are not spread outward.

If you look closely, the frosting vaguely resembles Cater’s hair. There’s a larger dollop in the middle which sort of looks like the middle section of his hair that’s pulled back.

There’s lots of little decorations that resembles the decorations on Cater’s phone case—an item near and dear to his heart.

The orange slices can be sweet—the impression that Cater tries to give off—but the pretzel implies a savory taste—what he actually prefers to eat.

There’s a squiggle of darker orange under his name. Is it to call attention to his identity? Cater tries to seek validation and attention from socials, so maybe this is a call to action.

Cater’s cupcake is the only one in his entire dorm that has TWO cards (both four of diamonds). One is probably a cookie and is in full color whole the other is one solid color (brown) and made of chocolate. Most likely this is referring to his UM, which allows Cater to create clones of himself. I wonder if the second card being chocolate alludes to something else too… Namely, the more melancholy and downtrodden part of himself that Cater usually does not let his peers know about 😔

Also two cookie sticks! Similar meaning as Trey’s, especially given that Cater was the first upperclassman to toss Adeuce out (after he gets them to paint the roses for him).

Ace

Ace of hearts card!

A sprinkle of hearts… Are any of us surprised??

His frosting is very ruffled and playful, much like his personality.

The cupcake is more on the simple side compared to many of the others; this is also very “Ace” of him, as Ace is commonly described as “the average high school boy” and has indicated himself that he has no particular goals or ambitions yet.

There’s a cherry on top! Very bright and cheeky, just like Ace—oh, and let’s not forget, cherry pie is his favorite food!

There’s also what appears to be almond shavings on Ace’s cupcake; almonds are actually very closely related to cherries so it’s a great pairing! If we really wanna stretch it, maybe it’s a reference to how Ace is skilled at mimicking or copying others, as the taste/smell of almond and cherries can be commonly mistaken for one another.

Deuce

Two of spades card!

Deuce’s cupcake has a very different texture to it. Unlike the others, his is very smoothed out and almost shiny (like a mirror glazed cake!). It makes me think this is to help him stand out as someone who is trying to reform and reinvent himself into something sparkling—especially seeing as the blue part of the cake seems to be covering up/glooping over the body of the cupcake itself.

Little candy eggs (one with a crack in it) and a baby chick! A callback to him liking egg dishes and the utter despair he experienced when he first learned that supermarket eggs aren’t fertilized…

The light blue squiggle makes me think of Deuce meandering and not knowing where he wants to go in life, representative of his delinquent phase or perhaps struggling to stay on the straight and narrow path of an honors student.

Finally, we have the grey marks on the cupcake which look like tire marks left from skidding around on a magical wheel/blastcycle, Deuce’s preferred mode of transportation!

Deuce's cupcake goes from blonde/yellowish to blue, which probably refers to him going from bleached hair as a delinquent to his natural hair color as he tries to reform himself.

Savanaclaw

Golden yellow cupcake liners with Savanaclaw’s signature horizontal zigzag pattern.

Their names seem to be done in a blocky text on chocolate. Fits the tough, somewhat rigid hierarchical feel of the dorm.

Leona

A crescent moon-shaped candy invokes the imagery of Scar singing the final line to Be Prepared as he and the hyenas ready themselves for the coup.

The darker frosting swirled on the side be interpreted as his scar or maybe the end of his tail.

Cacao nibs kind of remind me of rocks, perhaps to symbolize the hard childhood Leona had, desperately trying to prove himself to people who didn’t like him in the first place. There’s notably also golden specks there—a ray of hope for him to be better? Or maybe a nod to his noble lineage.

The chocolate sauce makes this cupcake feel very decadent but also adds to the dark look of it. I would say it resembles blot, but none of the other OB boys have this same feature. Maybe a hint at Leona’s depressive traits?

Wishful thinking on my part, but Leona’s cupcake is the only one in his dorm with a large splash of green (thanks to the leaves there). I like to think it’s him “turning over a new leaf” and turning his sights onto his internship + working toward helping to help preserve nature and discover energy efficient methods to help his country.

His cupcake is the “tallest” in Savanaclaw (because of how high his frosting is)—he’s obviously the leader of the pack.

Ruggie

Very decadent cupcake. A large scoop of ice-cream, nuts, pastries, tons of cream and frosting… it looks like someone just piled on all their favorite desserts (which suits a glutton like him). Even his own cake looks like it’s about to burst out of the liner!

Two donuts inserted in, because 1) they’re Ruggie’s favorite and 2) two is better than one!

The scattered chunks of chocolate resemble the pattern on the coat of a spotted hyena, which is what Ruggie is.

Jack

WHY DOES HIS CUPCAKE JUST STRAIGHT UP LOOK LIKE HIM… The two paler frosting peaks are his ears, the two-tone swirl results in his hair but also results in the high peak of his tail.

This cupcake has a lot of nuts (I see a walnut, a cashew, maybe crushed peanuts, and many whole hazelnuts). Maybe because Jack is “a tough nut to crack” due to his stoic and standoffish attitude? But we all know he’s a sweetheart deep down, perhaps why the most abundant of these nuts is hazelnuts, often used in many desserts and especially paired with chocolate.

xvsjwveiwk This is a slightly unserious note but there’s something whitish that night be dried coconut??? Sprinkled on the cake… I-Is that Jack shedding/j

Octavinelle

Each Octavinelle cupcake has a black macaron decorated to resemble their dorm uniform hats! The filling is purple (like Octa’s usual color) and has candy pearls (since they’re from the sea).

Their names are written in an elegant flowing font, with emphasis on the first letter of their names (slightly bigger than the other letters). It provides an impression that differs from the other letters in their names, much like how the Octatrio themselves can be deceptive.

A bowtie that matches what each boy wears in his dorm uniform.

The sprinkling of little purple pearls could really be nothing, but they could also be all the powers/abilities they have collected together.

Azul

The single chocolate stick (not two, unlike Cater and Trey’s) could pass as a straw, making the whole cupcake appear like a drink. Makes sense, the Mostro Lounge has a 1 drink minimum + his Dorm Uniform vignette is all about how he wants to buy the rights for the popular Mystery Drink from Sam.

A little contract and writhing chocolate tentacles pair nicely together. Together, they represent his UM and how his tendrils reach out to pull people into deals.

Azul also has a scoop of ice-cream, but it is notably VERY different looking than Ruggie’s. Azul’s is much smaller (because he moderates what he eats and how much) and neater too (because he cares about his tidy appearance).

There is a swirl of purple frosting on the bottom but most of the frosting is white and piled high. The former must be Ursula’s skin, and the latter her hair, as it is similar in shape.

His cupcake liner has the widest stripes (because he used to be overweight in the past) and has little purple dots (maybe in reference to the suctions on his tentacles).

Azul keeps the spiral seashell that resembles Ursula’s necklace.

Azul's cupcake goes from purple to white, which may denote his transition from octopus merman to human.

Tweels

The twins have a scalloped seashell that splits in half, representing the other brother. The way the shell divets also makes it look like a heart shape, implying the brothers “share a heart” or perhaps calling back to how both of their UMs involve “the heart” (Shock/Bind the Heart).

Their frosting is the color of their hair, even containing a stripe of black (in opposite directions) to match their hair. The frosting also seems to be slightly textured, which matches the gills and scales on their merforms.

The peak of the frosting resembles the ends of their eel tails flicking in opposite directions.

Three diamond-shaped “scales” on each cupcake; this is ghe same shape and design as the earrings they wear.

A ring of purple frosting is included; this could represent Azul, someone whom the twins closely work with and consider a great source of amusement. It’s telling that the purple frosting is below the teal frosting, as the twins have made it clear before that they’re not his minions or “below” him, they act independently and choose to follow Azul because they want to (and have the agency to leave whenever).

Jade

Jade’s cupcake liner has the most numerous and thinnest vertical stripes. There is also a very fine zigzag running through the liner. Very similar to Jade’s teeth arrangement and how they present as small but frequent.

Jade's cupcake stays a consistent color throughout the creation process.

Floyd

Floyd’s cupcake liner is in the middle of Azul and Jade’s in terms of line spread and thickness. The zigzag is also more elongated than Jade’s, matching Floyd’s more easygoing personality between the two twins. He’s also more likely to show his full teeth!

Floyd's cupcake goes from gold to teal, but Jade does not do the same or even the reverse. Maybe this hints at how Floyd is the more fickle brother?

Scarabia

Scarabia cupcake liners are color blocked with solid black and a deep red with an intricate golden pattern. Matches their dorm uniforms well!

They have snake biscuits with their names in bold, blocky all capital letters for impact. The biscuit shape suits the Sorcerer of the Sands. The text choice… I’m not sure, maybe to match the “casual streetwear” style of the dorm…? Or the dorm leader’s brazenness and overt friendliness?

Kalim

His earrings have been made into an edible version!

Thumbprint cookies that resemble glistening jewels! This, plus the colorful sugar pearls, represents Kalim’s immense wealth.

There’s a bow tied around his cupcake liner, which matches the cloth he wears around his head in many outfits of his.

The feathers that transition in color are for Kalim’s love of animals and willingness to accept others of all kinds (“colors”). This could also be a reference to his Dorm Uniform vignettes, where he pulled off a trick that made white birds appear to be “rainbow”.

At first I thought the white puffy frosting was to look like the Sultan’s turban, but wouldn’t they make it smoother and resemble one cohesive lump in that case…? Then I realized the white frosting actually resembles a CLOUD 😭 which fits Kalim so well, since he takes his friends out on magic carpet rides…

The red peak poking out of the top could be like… the domed roof of a tower, since there is one both for the Sultan’s palace and in Scarabia dorm. The white sprinkles/coconut shreds on the red part also gives the impression that the roof just poked through the clouds www

VERY tiny detail but if you look closely you’ll notice that Kalim’s cupcake is… lumpy… almost as though he tried baking for the first time himself and messed it up a little, so Jamil took over decorating for him to cover up the mistakes. (That’s headcanon anyway, lol)

Jamil

Jamil’s cupcake is a two-tone twirl thar matches the colors of his dorm AND the turban he wears when he overblots.

We have the classic red feather, three golden orbs, and a thumprint cookie (again, resembling a jewel) to match Kalim’s and to match Jamil’s hair accessories!

The little bits of gold sprinkled around are hard to place but maybe it’s to show how Jamil has to put Kalim first and foremost while his own feelings get dismissed/belittled/treated as less important.

Large chunks of chocolate on top! Not sure what this could be, but a part of me wants to believe it’s his depressive or defeatist traits, since Leona also has chocolate, but scattered. (Can you tell I loved these two’s interactions in book 6?)

Finally, we come to the enigmatic and out-of-place golden squiggle. Someone as meticulous as Jamil couldn’t possibly have intentionally placed that there, right…? Allow me, if you will, to circle back to the “Kalim was trying to bake with Jamil” theory… What if, while Jamil was decorating Kalim’s cupcake to cover up the unevenness of the cake, Kalim tried to thank Jamil and repay the favor by decorating Jamil’s cupcake??? And it resulted in… that squiggle… so Jamil had to roll with it and make the rest of his cupcake look as aesthetically pleasing as possible.

Pomefiore

All Pomefiore names are written in elegant script on a chocolate disc that is also stamped with the stars and moons of their dorm.

The cupcake liners have the same stars and moons pattern and has the colors of Pomefiore.

Vil

Similar to Riddle, Vil has a crown to show that he is the dorm leader. His is, of course, a different design to reflect a different queen (the Fairest Queen, not the Queen of Hearts).

The frosting has a slight gradient which is the same as the tips his hair.

The golden leaves match the leaves on the back of his dorm leader tiara/crown.

There are berries on top; notably, a red one still has a bit of leaf and branch stuck to it, making the berry look like a red apple (you know, cuz the Evil Queen used one to poison Snow White).

Vil has golden dust and two types of round candies evenly dispersed on the cupcake. It shows us how clean and yet elegant his personal style is.

Rook

Rook's cupcake has a very unique shape that is not quite like any other student's. Indeed, his cupcake resembles his hat (note the little feather sticking out of the top purple part) and bangs (the lower yellow part).

The purple part looks like it is made with an extruder and results in a texture similar to the top of a mont blanc; this is probably to help differentiate it from the smoother texture of the yellow beneath. Since the purple is a hat, the texture is most likely to make it seem more "fabric-like".

The yellow part + the color change from yellow to purple may also be a reference to how he was originally in Savanaclaw, but then transferred to Pomefiore.

An edible bow and arrow motif befitting of a skilled huntsman!

The squiggle line here seems to be showing the path of his arrow, which always finds its mark. Additionally, Rook himself is a tricky person and usually employs roundabout strategies or misdirecting ways to achieve his goals.

At the end of the arrow's path is a cluster of what seems to be pomegranate seeds, which seems odd and something more befitting of Idia or Ortho (who have ties with Hades; there is a tale about Hades having Persephone eat a pomegranate fruit which dooms her to spending half of her time in the Underworld). However, I think here the pomegranate seeds are meant to be... like... an artistic, abstract depiction of blood once the arrow strikes its target.

There's blueberries on top, an element he has in common with Vil (someone whom he devotes himself to). The leaves here with the berries tie Rook to the wild, both as a huntsman and has an ex-Savanaclaw student.

Epel

The pale purple color of the frosting is the same as Epel’s hair!

Unlike Vil’s sprinkled-on decorations, Epel’s are not spread out evenly and instead cluster at the top. This may be attributed to their different levels of maturity, as Vil and more knowledgable than Epel, who expresses outdated views on gender and has a limited understanding of the world due to coming from a very rural area.

There’s a fine shimmer on Epel’s cupcake—probably because his arc in book 5 was about learning to appreciate and weaponize his beauty.

Two apple slices because… well, when you think of Epel, you think of apples and the Felmier family business!

There seems to be a little bit of yellow peaking out from the cake? Are those more apple slices or an apple filling…?

The pale frilled strip of frosting resembles a lace collar, something which Epel wears in his school uniform.

Epel is the only member of Pomefiore to have a cupcake which LACKS a blueberry (or really any berries at all). This is a subtle indication that he is the “odd one out” within the dorm, as he, unlike Rook, is not conforming to the standards set by his dorm leader.

Ignihyde

The Ignihyde cupcake liner has the same black and blue geometric look as their dorm uniform jackets.

I don’t know how to really describe the font their names are written in, but the way the letters are cut reminds me of a “Greek” style of text (similar to this).

Their names seem to be displayed on Oreos chocolate sandwich cookies with Ignihyde blue fillings. Counting the parts (2 cookies, the cream filling), there’s three in total, which matches the count of the heads of Cerberus, as well as how many Shroud brothers there are.

Both Idia and Ortho have what look to be confetti cakes as the base for their cupcakes, Because of the dark color of the cake and the bright color of the sprinkles, it creates the impression of stars in the night sky—maybe to reference Star Rogue, their favorite video game.

Idia

The skull-shaped technomantic device Ida uses to launch his magic spells tops off his cupcake.

On either side of the skull device are candies (?) that look like the same light sticks Idia is super into waving around at his beloved idols’ concerts.

The blue frosting is meant to look like his fiery hair!

Idia’s cupcake goes from a red gradient to a blue one. His hair actually goes change color like this based (on his mood), We’ve seen his hair go from blue to red from anger and/or determination and passion in both book 7 and in his Dorm Uniform vignettes.

Ortho

This cupcake seems to represent both the deceased Ortho and the current android Ortho.

Not sure what it is, but there’s something with a cybernetic glowing design that implies a circuit board; this is part of the internal parts which make up robo!Ortho.

There’s some kind of sauce with sprinkles over the top of that layer; this could be the blot that makes up phantom!Ortho, since we usually don’t associate the “dripping” of the sauce with robo!Ortho.

The smaller dollop of blue frosting is Ortho’s fiery blue hair. He’s smaller and younger than Idia, so the flames do not consume the entire cupcake. (Alternatively, this could also be the fire-shaped bottle that serves as phantom!Ortho’s head.)

Under the frosting is a cookie and a thin ring which resembles the ring of glowing triangles that appears around robo!Ortho’s neck. A similar pattern appears around the neck of phantom!Ortho.

This cupcake’s cake is a lighter color than Idia’s cake. It also has a larger variety in the sprinkle colors, maybe as a nod to Ortho’s cheerier and more hopeful personality compared to Idia’s gloomier and pessimistic one.

Diasomnia

The Diasomnia cupcake liners are black with a green briar pattern.

Each student’s name is piped in chocolate, with the third years in white and the underclassmen in what seems to be milk chocolate.

The cupcakes seem to be malformed or sort of puffy like Kalim’s is. I wonder if that means Lilia roped all of his kids to bake with him as a bonding exercise www

Malleus

Malleus’s cupcake goes from Diasomnia green to black (the royal color of the Draconia bloodline), symbolizing the eventual transition he must make from student to king of his country.

The frosting on top is the same colors as he night sky sprinkled with silver stars. Malleus likes to take solitary strolls under the cover of night, so this suits him.

Malleus wouldn’t be Hornton/Tsunotaro without the horns! Of course we’ve gotta include a chocolate version of his iconic horns.

Extra frosting in a bright green; these are meant to be Malleus’s apocalyptic green fire that he spouts.

There’s a purple grape cut into two (I’m sure Rollo would be furious/j) to reveal the green insides. How curious! These colors are also considered accent colors for Maleficent. Another nice detail about the grapes is that the veining of the flesh makes the insides resemble reptilian eyes—like those of a dragon.

Lilia

The frosting is black for Lilia’s hair and has magenta (berry?) sauce to reflect his hair streaks.

Lots of berries (Lilia loves his berry juice) and irregular pink sprinkles or candy shards. It’s cute, punky, and whimsical, just like he is.

Chocolate bats for the bats that swarm Lilia in many animations. He’s also shown taking care of a bat in his Dorm Uniform vignettes.

I’ve been trying to figure out what the whole cream is… My best guess is they’re representing Malleus, Sebek, and Silver??? Silver and Sebek are the smaller two dollops since they grew up and trained together + are the most immature of the group. Malleus is the big, textured swirl on the left—he is older and more powerful than Sebek and Silver. This analogy also works when you consider that these three sit upon Lilia (the cupcake), who is the oldest and serves as the father figure and foundation for their dorm to get along with each other and with others.

I don’t know what that ahoge-like thing is supposed to be or mean—

Silver

His cupcake goes from a deep blonde/yellowish brown to silver. This reflects his hair color change following Lilia’s blessing.

Silver’s cupcake has a very dreamy and cloud-like quality to it because of the abundance of pastel-colored cream. The top of the frosting even droops over, sort of like a head dropping in sleep.

Crushed bits of an aurora-colored candy are sprinkled over the cake. They’re the same color as his eyes, as well as the ring gifted to him by his parents.

Two birds and some mint (?) leaves make up the colors of the Three Good Fairies (Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather). They also speak to Silver’s familiarity with the forest creatures.

Sebek

The pastel green frosting for Sebek’s cupcakes is sloped, and it is the only one styled this way. It may represent his lopsidedly views and understanding of the world, as he is easily one of the most rigid thinking within his dorm.

Many different things are sprinkles on the cupcake; it looks like someone threw them on thinking they would look cool with very little thought or planning. It fits how brazen Sebek is and also (funnily enough) matches his struggle with the arts.

Sebek is the only student with triangular sprinkles; is this meant to look like scales?? Or maybe particles of lighting?

There’s a massive chocolate lightning bolt topping off the cupcake. Nothing subtle or tactful about it, much like Sebek’s personality and voice.

There are two pieces of sliced grape to mimic Malleus’s cupcake. Interestingly, the grape halves seem to come from entirely different kinds of grapes: one green (unlike Malleus’s), the other red (like Malleus’s). Assuming the red half (which Malleus has two of) implies fae heritage (Malleus is full fae), then the green half is one’s human heritage. The grapes, then, denote Sebek being of half fae, half human descent.

Extra

Grim

He has a unique black and white vertically striped cupcake liner to represent Ramshackle dorm!

Grim’s name is written on a cookie that looks like a puffy manga text box. Makes sense, he’s usually being the mouth piece for Yuu when they don’t get dialogue options or even when they do.

Seems to be covered in sanding sugar to achieve the fuzzy texture of fur!

Little wafer (?) shaped like Grim’s tail! And cookies (?) iced to resemble his ears! Two paw prints 🥺 to match Grim’s toe beans… The cupcake truly is made in his image!!

The white shell border is probably a stand-in for the white tuft of fur that Grim has.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst tsumtsums #twisted wonderland tsumtsums #twst tsumtsum #twisted wonderland tsumtsum #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #twst analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #Heartslabyul #Grim #Savanaclaw #Octavinelle #Scarabia #Pomefiore #Ignihyde #Diasomnia

193 notes · View notes

nervousstarlightobserver · 4 months

Text

Seraphim Eye Practice + Headcanons

(I made these well before the official episode came out so these are older designs)

These are the eyes that I have finished and I’m proud to share with the world. I have given the seraphim names and some head canons to go with them. I also aged up all of the seraphim outside of S-Snake because I love how baby she is.

S-Hawk is actually one of two. I don’t know how I got it into my head, but I liked the idea of Mihawk having twin seraphim. They came about like regular twins, but if they were tube babies.

They are both called S-Hawk and they were separated when they were very young. Both are overprotective of each other because of being separated. The one you see at the very top is Crowley and the one at the very bottom is Montoya. Inigo Montoya and Crowly. Both of the twins eyes were replaced with robotic ones. They can even change color! Blue for Docile, Yellow for Alert, and Red/Pink for Danger. There is also Green, but none of the Punks know why they turn green since they rarely flash green. 👀

Crowley has the cloned devil fruit; but Montoya, on the other hand, ate an actual devil fruit. I call it the Fuse-Fuse fruit! It is a paramecia type that can fuse two or more things together. Both organic and inorganic materials can be fused. He typically fuses with S-Gecko. Montoya and S-Gecko were placed together while Crowly was placed with S-Crocodile and S-Catapiller. Crowley doesn’t use a sword, instead he uses a guitar that doubles as both a gun and a battle ax. It is the turducken of weapons. I kept their eyes similar to their original design (manga) since that’s what I stared with. Not much to talk about. But both of their wings are like that of a crow and not a hawk. The Punks don’t have a lot of knowledge on bird wings apparently 🤷 Crowley has tons of piercings I just didn’t add/you can’t see any of them. He is very much punk rock vs. Montoya who is very elegant vintage.

I’ve been calling S-Crocodile Dharma. Dharma Al Dini. I had a different name that started with a D for Dharma but I forgot to write it down so I had to change it. After watching a play through of Venba, I got the idea of Crocodile being able to speak Tamil and eating Indian food and that’s how Dharma came to be. Dharma knows how to speak Tamil and how to cook. I also gave him an Italian last name because of the whole mafia theme Crocodile’s got going on.

I had an outline of S-Crocodile way before it was revealed and what I have written down is so far off from the original that when I look at the seraphim I’m like, “Why are you so different?” And then I remember that when I first met these characters we only knew S-Hawk, Snake, Shark, and Bear and we didn’t even know if they were conscious. Dharma is very soft spoken and is very muted compared to Crocodile. Crocodile exudes confidence and superiority. Dharma is a very gentle presence and, while confident, lacks the same authority and charisma his prime does. (I’m calling the OGs Primes so I don’t have to constantly write out their names).

I made his eyes a star bursts with light coming out of them. Kinda like a start shooting light. I changed his eyes to be more of a warm honey color than Crocodile’s harsh gold (before Toei decided to change Crocodile’s eye color for no reason). I really wanted to show the difference in their personality in an obvious way. I also gave him makeup around his eyes because I thought his face looked to bare and it became a theme for nearly all the seraphim. I made Dharma’s wings that of a sparrow’s due to that one cover story, also his wings are closer to his hips than his shoulders. His aesthetic is a casual glam. He look effortless and like an average guy, but also extremely expensive.

S-Snake is a very curious child. She is very sweet, adventurous, self-assured, and bossy. She is trusting to a fault that her older brothers are over protective of her. I have named her Yumi. Yumi Stone. She and the others discovered that her devil fruit doesn’t require that they actually look at her, in fact, you don’t even need to see her for her devil fruit to work. The only qualification is that there is love. She can petrify the other seraphim because they love her and each other. She has used her powers on couples and parents to try and test how far her powers can go. Her powers also have some healing properties to it. She is interning under S-Gecko to become a doctor (This is due to trauma which I will get to maybe never).

Okay, to start off, I love how cute I made her!!!! Look at her, look at my baby! She is the definition of adorable. Her eyes were the most fun and, shockingly, the easiest to come up with because I had the idea of making each of the seraphim have unique eyes (by the time I hit S-Flamingo I had officially run out of ideas and just said fuck it close enough). I made her eyes a light purple because I thought it would break up all the warm colored eyes I was doing. I added the rings and the mini-stars because I loved the idea of her having like a sorta planetary eye. I nearly did the rings for Dharma and S-Gecko, but I scrapped the idea because it was not working. I gave her some small eye liner because all of the others had some form of make up. I didn’t want it to be to extreme and wanted to keep it simple for her and it ended up in her eyes looking more owlish and it’s just—mwuah!❤️ Not on purpose but I fell in love with it. That small little thing has also made me head canon that her wings are like an owls. Her eyes are easily my favorite over all. Yumi doesn’t have any specific aesthetics, she just wears whatever she thinks is cute or what her brothers pick out for her. She can really be any of the boys aesthetics when she wants to be. Like one day she can have a biker jacket on and the next she’s wearing a gardener outfit.

Next Batch! And I won’t be starting with S-Caterpillar, I’m saving him for last 😉

S-Gecko’s name is Frankenstein. At this point you can already tell the second theme that I picked out for the seraphim is that they are all of their names are based off of different fictional characters because I like to think that they choose their names from their favorite characters!

Frankenstein was also the first one to be created. We literally do not know how long he was a warlord for, but we do know that he lost a shit ton of blood to Kaido way back when! I like to believe that Gecko Moria was the entire reason the seraphim program exists because waaaaayy too many people forget that in his prime he was an actual candidate for becoming an emperor/the pirate king.

Frankenstein (just Frank or Stein depending on whose talking to him) is very similar, yet extremely different from his prime. • Similarities include : both work with the dead, are tacticians, and are very heavy sleepers. Stein is a workaholic and the other seraphim rarely, if ever, see him since he mainly stays in his room. He is very abrasive and is regularly seen wearing a scowl, but he also has a wicked sense of humor that you don’t get to hear often and is even funnier because you don’t expect it. He is an actual certified doctor which is important to know because he is the other seraphim’s primary doctor, but his day job is to work as a mortician. Despite his job as a mortician, he’s very delicate with the bodies. He has never attempted to raise the dead like his prime. He has never held any shame or disgust towards a body. He will do small things that seem illogical to some, but he was always superstitious type. He will sing lullabies to dead and gently push hair out of their faces. He will recount his day like he was talking to an old friend or a patient. Stein is a religious person in a loose sense. He won’t pray to any god and swears like a sailor but he won’t go out of his way to actively piss off a spirit. Stein is Montya’s best friend. In my head their relationship changed from two people that knew each other in passing to closer than anything. Montya developed some pretty serious separation anxiety after he was separated from Crowly. Once he was placed with Stein he just clung onto him and never let go. Stein, despite being very much a loner and not really a people person, let him cling to him. When Montya’s eyes were replaced with robotic ones and were malfunctioning, he used his devil fruit to create a sort of cooling agent to stop them from overheating. They had small little moments like these that built up over the years in captivity that made them inseparable…literally. After Montya ate his devil fruit he was forced to go under a series of experiments to test the limits of his devil fruit. One where they used Stein as a “motivator”. After one world government agent took it too far, in a panic, Montya fused himself and Stein together. It took several weeks to get them to unfuse forcing the WG to drop the experiment altogether. The two of them still fuse from time to time just to feel close. Frankenstein is the only person Montya has ever fused with. Not even Crowley.

Stein’s pupils are actually two different colors! They are two, three way triangles. I originally tried making his eyes like an atoms but I scrapped that idea. His wings are similar to an albatross. He also looks like Moria at his prime. Also I do realize that I gave him eyebrows even though he doesn’t have any, but they looked too good to discard. His aesthetic is yeehaw goth (Mihawk better watch out cause he’s side eyeing your territory). It is polarizing to see him and Montoya together because of how different their personalities are but still are best friends, yet him and Crowly absolutely hate each other with a burning passion and only really tolerate each other when Montoya is around. The second he turns around they are already throwing down and throttling each other into the stratosphere.

S-Flamingo. Better known as Donquixote Sancho. He is the very antithesis of Doflamingo. Not in a “they look exactly the same but we are totally different” but in a “Everything I do, I do to spite you” kinda way. Sancho is a priest and is respectful to literally everyone but the people in power. He lives modestly and refuses to live outside of the bare necessities. He refuses to use Doflamingo’s devil fruit and doesn’t even see it as his own power. He uses a god damn sword that is made out of seastone all the way through just because he doesn’t want to use Doflamingo’s devil fruit. Sancho loathes Doflamingo with such a passion that he takes everything he knows about him and flips it on its head just so he can avoid being reminded that he’s technically his son (brother. Him-Something?). Doflamingo has short hair? He grows his out. Doflamingo has an atrocious, outrageous sense of style? Wears nice, plain clothing. You can see where this is going. The only reason I gave him sunglasses was because I didn’t think he looked like Doffy enough without them. Each of the seraphim are supposed to be recognizable despite not even having the same color palette as their primes so just ignore the sunglasses (now that I’m looking at the photo again I realize that I forgot to give him makeup). His wings are similar to a swans.

Now is the little bastard’s turn. S-Caterpillar.

Or better known by the others as Godbrand Puck.

Now let’s get one this straight about Godbrand. He is almost exactly like Buggy. In fact the world government would consider him their first perfect, and only, total success. He emulates Buggy to a T. He is loud, eccentric, and all around flashy. Normally the world government would consider this to be a flaw that they can just beat out of him if it wasn’t for one very special factor. He is physically incapable of feeling pain. He isn’t just called Godbrand for shits and giggles. He has been branded with both the Slave brand and the Word Government’s symbol multiple times. Not once did he scream out in pain. In fact he stared giggling the first time it happened. He even fell asleep during one of these “sessions”.

Puck is the only one without green blood because when Vegapunk was first experimenting he decided to lace the artificial devil fruit with the DNA to make the seraphim automatically born with the devil fruit. This lead to the interesting discovery that due to the nature of Buggy’s devil fruit and the inherent nature of devil fruits permanently changing a users body, Puck’s pain receptors were completely severed. They tested this theory on several other Buggy clones that ended up in total failures because of the Chop-Chop fruits nature to split apart. Some of them were missing limbs or organs, others simply didn’t form correctly like an arm coming out of the head or the eyes were placed on the neck, sometimes there were an extra set of something like a row teeth or more than one head. Because Vegapunk tampered with re-adding the devil fruit into Buggy’s DNA none of his clones came out right leaving only Puck. The Golden Child. A Miracle. The Best out of a series of total and utter failures left with an extremely desirable trait in the World Government’s eyes. A solider who could continue on without being held back by something as trivial as pain. Of course until you realize that “desirable trait” leaves him with the inability to seek treatment. Biting his own fingers off. Swallowing his teeth and chewing on his own tongue till it’s bloodied. Ripping out stitches and IVs. Walking on a infected leg that has completely rotted bellow the knee. After that Vegapunk vowed to never clone another the same way he did Puck. Both too risky and high rate of failure. Even if the clone does survive, their could be some unforeseen complications down the line. With him being unable to feel pain, he feels no fear. Remember when I said he was almost exactly like Buggy? What is Buggy’s most notable traits? He is a complete and utter coward terrified of pain and will do almost anything to avoid it. But Puck? With him unable to feel pain, he feels no reason to fear anything. Why feel fear a fate worse than death when that “fate worse than death” is just feeling pain? That little chip the WG and Vegapunks invented to make them unable to feel anything or disobey orders? That is merely a controlled shock that will make them feel excruciating pain. So with that in mind, can you see where this is going? That little desirable trait that they oh so loved in the beginning has bitten them in the ass because this insufferable little shit doesn’t follow orders unless he wants to. Oh sure he won’t be able to “properly” move for a while but can just use his devil fruit to still make it work. What “fate worse than death” can they make him feel? He can’t even experience something so universal to the human experience that he believes himself to be above it all. He’s better than humanity. He is better than the other seraphim because they are all held down by the temporary emotion known as pain. They are below him because they are held back by something so…unnecessary.

Puck is everything the Buggy pretends to be. Puck is confident, powerful, and better than everyone else. He’s basically God. At least in his own eyes. Puck is a raging narcissist, like clinical textbox definition of a narcissist. He like Buggy, but everything is cranked up to an eleven. If crazy was a kind of clock, Buggy would be a single full rotation. Luffy would be like twenty full rotations and then clockwise and then back again on the perfect level of fun crazy and absolute Eldrich abomination. PUCK would be the exact opposite of Luffy landing on the worst amount of self import delusional asshole. He thinks himself a God with the power to back it up. His blood is that of the seraphim, a species that was once considered godlike, and Buggy, an emperor of the sea. He is the nepotism of blood. He is every last one of Buggy’s WORST possible traits. He is a narcissist, psychopathic, asshole. None of the other seraphim like him or understand him. And he doesn’t like or understand them. Worst of all, he is just as much of charismatic genius as his prime.

This brat has the critically thinking skills as Crocodile mixed with Buggy’s chemical expertise and Shank’s level of haki control. On my first post, you can see Puck with four wings. Because Buggy’s devil fruit already allows him to fly, he uses his wings as living armory. He can separate his feathers to create either daggers or swords depending on the situation. He uses his armament haki to make his feathers as strong as steel. Or he can uses his feathers for recon missions (think Hawks from MHA). He can also use his devil fruit for a variety of other situations. He uses it for espionage and undercover missions. He can cut his hair or limbs to appear taller or shorter. He removes his wings, nose, his own dick and Adam’s apple (if the situation calls for it) to go better under cover. He’s also knowledgeable enough about surgery to perform top and bottom surgery to easily switch between male and female when going under cover. He has entire rooms fill of wigs, makeup, clothing, dyes, jewelry, and other accessories specially for him. All his years undercover has made him an excellent actor. He knows what to say to get them to do what he wants. He knows how to persuade someone. No matter how much the others hate him, they have to admit, he is damn good at what he does.

For his design to most important thing to me was clown. I wanted to nail that performer look without making it too much or too bland. Buggy’s makeup is iconic. I’m like 90% sure Buggy has an egg. So I wanted to nail that Star of the Show look without butting into his territory. Of course I gave him Star first to not alone tie in the whole celestial feel, but it was thematic. I originally wanted to add in a moon since he already has a Star and a Sun but it just wouldn’t turn out how I wanted so first thing I asked myself was, “What is some of the most iconic clown makeup?” Then I remembered. TEARS! You can see a small blue tear on his left eye for 1.)Buggy is a bit of a crybaby and 2.)I didn’t want it to distract from the star too much. For the heart and the spade on the top of his forehead, it ties into playing cards. The heart and the spade are from a childhood drawing of mine where I made a monster using the four suits. Diamond and Club for the eyes. Heart on the forehead. And Spade as the nose. I took that idea and simplified it down to make the forehead not look as big. His eyes are easily my second favorite because we have a lot of warm colored eyes so that made him standout a lot more. His eyes are also the only ones that aren’t totally connected. All of the other seraphim’s eyes are very soft in some kind of way, Frankenstein being somewhat of an exception. All of their eyes are rounded in some kind of way. Dharma has a lot of curves to his eyes. The pointed edges of the twins, Yumi, and Sancho has been rounded off. Hell, even Frankenstein’s eyes have rounded lines in them to make appearance softer. Pucks eyes are completely sharp, there are no soft or rounded edges. Even the smaller stars are very straight and stiff. There is no softness in his eyes. There is nothing soft about Puck. His eyes are radioactive green. They are toxic. They are dangerous. They are tempting. He is the prettiest poison you’ve ever seen. His makeup, his nose, his hair and clothing are all attempts to make him appear softer than he really is. And of course, if you’ve seen my drawing of him, his wings are based off of duck wings. 1.) It’s a pun because Duck>Puck. Pretty self explanatory. And 2.) To make him appear weaker than he really is. You don’t look at a duck and think, “Total Murder Monster Hellbent on Making the World Kneel to Him”

Sorry for the long post. This is the longest I’ve ever written on this website so far and I had a lot I wanted to say before we got any new chapters or episodes that totally debunks any of my theories or lore. Maybe I’ll add on to this post by making the seraphim and their primes interacting with each other for the first time. And I hope you enjoyed! You can ask me questions if you want.

#one piece seraphim #one piece #one piece fanart #s snake #s hawk #s-flamingo #s-Gecko #s crocodile #egghead #Seraphim Buggy

60 notes · View notes

howyouducan · 11 months

Text

Well there appears to be no opportunities for Dragon Age: Dreadwolf news for the rest of summer, so I'm basically just waiting until Baldur's Gate 3 releases on the last day of August (which is, arguably, the last day on the last month of summer). Sooo I guess I'll fuck around with the concept of Jack the potential Dreadwolf protagonist and see what happens

"Jack" is:

Visually and spiritually inspired by fairy tales of untamed troublemakers who hide out in the wilderness. Robin Hood, Peter Pan, even Puck / Robin Goodfellow. He loves messing with anyone who thinks themselves above other people. He's also great at trickery and stealing.

Fucking nuts, but kind. I want Jack to be unrepentantly and irreversibly neurodivergent, with a devil-may-care attitude about public opinion of himself. Also, completely selfish and pigheaded in his want to help and protect his friends. Thinking of Cole in Inquisition, Bruno from Encanto, and Luffy from One Piece.

I want "his color" to be green. I think it's amusing that none of my protagonists' signature colors match the game's color theme. Origins was orange, and Lady Aeducan's color is gold; DA2 was red, but Flita Hawke's color was blue; and Inquisition was very green, while Noraak's favorite color is yellow. I have no idea if armor-tinting is going to be A Thing in Dreadwolf, and I am not concerned about it. He will probably have green eyes, at any rate, because he is a redhead and I am apparently creating a stereotype.

"Jack" is going to be (actually completely accidentally) the elfiest elf in Tevinter. He is a stick-thin anti-authoritarian rabblerouser with a bow and a preference towards forested or otherwise wild areas. Even if he wasn't an elf, his personality has "elf stereotype" all over it. This will make the inevitable battles against magisters and/or slavers very sweet indeed, but I am not currently sure what he'd think of the Dalish or ancient Elvhen, because at this point in time he is very much a city slicker. Again, this will depend on what origins the game itself will have, but that's who he is for now.

Have not settled on a hairstyle yet, for the obvious reason of not knowing what will be available. I'm hoping for longer hair, maybe in a ponytail, maybe not. Like I mentioned before, if there are body sliders, he will be as bony as it will allow. None of my other heroes have that body type.

I was originally going to name him after a bird, because I've always liked bird names. Hawke was going to have a double bird name before I found out that "Flita" was a real name from the middle ages. But if that character named "Rook" from those leaked screenshots is a real NPC and not the protag, then I'd like something else. "Jack" was always a nice name to me. It was very common to the point of being a stand-in for a stranger, but it's also... a bit fable-esque. There are a lot of Jacks in English folk history, ranging from old stories to nursery rhymes even to Victorian urban legends (Spring-Heeled Jack, Jack the Ripper). Jack, as a name, has a lot of personality and yet it will conform to the wearer perfectly.

#dragon age dreadwolf #dragon age dread wolf #dad #dadw #dragon age #da #jack

0 notes

kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

katsuki bakugou | f!reader, implied(ish) mafia!kats, choking, exhibitionism, cockwarming, riding, mild corruption themes, degradation, whore/slut!calling. minors dni!

— 2.5k words

"Listen, I don't give a fuck about your friend—I wanna get to know you better."

“Um, excuse me? Have you seen my friend?”

The ash-blond swimming in smoke stills, mid-conversation with some half-dressed woman to his right. In fact, all the half-dressed women snap their heads your way, all ten of them, sizing you up in your non-promiscuous dress and heels (not compared to theirs, at least) and obvious awkwardness and uncouthness. The ash-blond frowns.

“How’d you fuckin’ get in here?”

“Um,” you glance at the green-haired bouncer who let you through—he’s too busy guarding the entrance to notice. “I just pretended like I knew who you were and he...let me in?”

“Fuckin’ Deku,” the ash-blond groans, rubbing a hand over his face before tossing it over the back of the booth. “Whadd’ya want?”

“Um, I was wondering if you’ve seen my friend,” you repeat, hands fiddling with your bracelets as you crack under the pressure of all the eyes. “She’s um, kinda short with long brown hair. I don’t...it was hard to see the color of her dress in the dark, but I think it was purple?”

The ash-blond blinks as you fumble over your words, causing a second of silence where he does nothing but stare until he snaps, digging his cigar into the ash-tray with finality.

“All right. Shoo, ladies.”

The women surrounding the ash-blond whine and boo. He seems unfazed though, simply shrugging as he says:

“Gotta help this pretty thing find her friend.”

The women clear out quickly and quietly after that. And though you’re unsure why, many of them shoot very nasty looks your way as they pass under the neon red exit sign and into the chaotic club. They look like they want to kill you.

Anyways.

“So...does that mean you know where my friend is?”

“Nope,” the ash-blond says, popping the ‘p’ as he adjusts to the extra space in the booth. “But you get a solid fuckin’ view from up here. Sit.”

You nod and take the spot next to him, scanning the crowd below with narrowed eyes. You look for something, anything that could hint at where your friend could be, but wind up empty-handed.

"D'ya come here often?" he asks, and you shake your head.

"No. I mean, I heard the place is kind of new anyway, so," you shrug absentmindedly. You think you see your friend for a second, just catching a glimpse of brown hair, but once the girl turns, it's clear she's not who you're looking for. Dammit.

"Guess so," the man grunts. You hear him shift but you don't look. "The o—"

"Shoes, did you see her shoes?" You ask before realizing your thought process is light years ahead of his. He gives you a blank look. "I mean—sorry, they're like, really high stilettos with gold on the bottom. I think."

The stranger's angled eyebrows drop. "No."

"Dammit," you click your tongue, before turning back to the crowd. No...no...no...no...

"Listen, I'm not gonna sugar coat it—I don't give a fuck about your friend." He says with a sigh. Your head snaps to look at him because it doesn't matter if he meant it, that's rude, but your thoughts disintegrate into nothing as he grabs you by the chin and says, "I wanna get to know you better."

"Um," You swallow. He's close to the point where your eyes cross trying to put him into focus. "M-Me?"

"You," he confirms with a cocked eyebrow. "What, never been the center of attention before, Princess?"

You falter. Not like this.

"So," he continues when you don't respond. "What's your name, Princess? I'm Katsuki."

You give him yours and meet his hand halfway for a handshake, much too aware of how big it is compared to yours. Katsuki hums, both arms on either side of your being and ultimately, caging you to the booth.

"Y/N..." He repeats, experimentally, like he's trying to see how it fits in his mouth. You don't mind the way it sounds coming from him. "I like it.”

"O-Oh, um," you're unsure of what to say, so you do nothing but blush and place a hand to his chest. You try your hardest to hide your surprise upon feeling how firm it is. "Thank you."

"Don't gotta thank me for stating the obvious," Katsuki grunts, adjusting so his eyes are leveled with yours. "What do you like to do, Y/N?"

There's a hand on your thigh.

It sits right where your dress stops, and it burns—but you find yourself unsure of what you want it to do, whether you want it to go away or continue its journey up. And that's exactly what it does, as Katsuki thumbs the hem to your skirt and you try your hardest to focus on your reply.

"U-Um..." you panic, too much heat in his eyes for comfort. "I don't know."

Katsuki raises an eyebrow in faint amusement, "You don't know?"

"W-Well, I mean—!" You try after realizing how utterly empty-headed you must sound. Katsuki's chuckle diffuses your efforts fairly quickly.

"You're cute, you know that?" He says gruffly, carmine red eyes burning through the dark of the club. You suppress the urge to shrink.

"I—um, thank you," you flush embarrassingly red. Katsuki's eyes study your being for a moment, flickering up and down, and up again until he's tapping the side of your thigh twice.

"Sit in my lap, Princess."

He guides you using your wrist and for some reason you allow him to guide you into his lap, grunting as he nestles you on him comfortably as he overlooks the club. You falter upon feeling something...strangely hard. “What’s that?”

“My dick,” Katsuki grunts, almost absentmindedly, and yet the vulgar comment takes you so off guard that it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

“Oh.”

“‘S your fault for gettin’ me all worked up, Princess,” Katsuki’s hands find their way around your waist before they’re guiding your hips into rolling small, smooth circles against him. Katsuki’s back thumps against the back of the booth as he admires the view, groaning behind a bitten lip. “Told ya to sit still and you didn’t listen.”

You suppose that’s valid.

Plus, you’re enjoying the little groans he’s letting out—along with the sharp inhales when your hips dig harder into his.

“How um—how do I help?”

“Just keep sittin’ pretty, Princess,” Katsuki growls, and you nod, allowing him to guide your hips to his will. It’s a lot of movement, and you find yourself shying away from the balcony as he hikes your dress up to your waist—ultimately exposing the entirety of your lower half. Your goosebumps rise.

“What if people see?”

”They won’t. We’re too high up,” Katsuki soothes, rubbing a thumb over your ribcage as he hooks his chin over your shoulder. “And if they’re fuckin’ nosy? Let ‘em see. The sick fuckers will appreciate the show.”

Let them see. You shiver at that.

Katsuki’s running his hot hands all over your body and they make you feel nothing short of sexy, sliding them up the sides of your body until they curve over your breasts, and drop back down to your hips. They move as if they’re mapping out your body, trying to figure out what makes you tick and what makes you crumble, and you sigh along with the satisfying glide.

“Fuck...you have a better body than those girls ever will,” he groans, but you flush at the way he seems to say it more to himself than to you. “Fuckin’ perfect, fuck.”

“T-Thank you,” you flush, unsure if you were supposed to take the praise or not. Katsuki chuckles.

“So fuckin’ cute, too. You’re welcome, Princess.” His hands move from your waist to the sides of your thighs, tapping twice with open palms. “Squat.”

“Squat?” You confirm with furrowed eyebrows. Katsuki grunts and manhandles you to your feet with a sigh. There isn’t a whole lot of space between the booth and the railing, forcing you to fold over the banister with the cool thing pressing into your gut and your arms keep you from falling completely. You shiver from the cool air as his fingers hook around the fabric of your panties, and then you feel something hot kiss your entrance before Katsuki’s guiding you back down using your hips.

You’re full of him, immediately, and you struggle to hide a whimper as he wastes no time in bottoming out.

“O-Oh—“

“Never had somethin’ this big before, huh Princess?” Katsuki’s strained voice is the only evidence that lets you know he’s feeling good, and you’re tightening around him with a nod.

“N-No, definitely not.”

You have to rest your head against the buzzing railing to just breathe through it, to adjust, and Katsuki chuckles at your shuddering chest. He taps a steady rhythm that matches the beat of the music into your side but doesn’t move, and you find a strange comfort in the vibrating club, with the addition of something inside you providing a uniquely comfortable warmth.

"C-Can I—"

"No," Katsuki grunts, placing heavy hands on your hips to ensure you'll stay in place. "Find your fuckin' friend, first. Y'got a good view."

You whimper and nod, resting your forehead against the cool railing. Fuck—he fills you up too well. As you watch people live their lives down below, you rake your eyes through the crowd in search of a purple dress—and you come up empty.

"I-I don't even know if she's here," you defend, chest shuddering. Katsuki chuckles, though it's laced with something heavier.

"Really? 'Cause you were so fuckin’ sure about twenty minutes ago."

Katsuki's hand cracks against your ass—with a sound you're surprised no one heard over the music—and you yelp. "Dirty fuckin' girl, grinding back on my cock. Impatient girls get punished, you know."

You nearly moan behind a bitten lip. You weren't even aware you were moving.

“F-Found her,” you barely croak out, so relaxed your upper body practically drapes off the balcony. Katsuki snorts, leaning forwards so his mouth is flush against the back of your neck—you gasp from the adjustment.

“Prove it.” He grunts breathily, clearly in a similar condition.

“U-Um, the gold stilettos," you barely manage, and Katsuki hisses as you tighten around him to point down into the fray—lo and behold, there she is, in the middle of the goddamn dance floor with some guy you've never seen before. You...suppose you're in a similar situation. A better one.

"Good girl," the ash-blond coos. Shivering, your hips rolling on their own, but this time Katsuki lets them. You don't stop. “Fuckin’ choking my cock, shit.”

His hands get a little shaky and though it’s hard to discern through your own arousal, you take note of how thin his voice sounds, and continue to roll your hips in the way that makes him shiver. Katsuki starts to trail kisses up your neck which turns into a bite of your earlobe, causing you to hiss from the feeling.

“‘S good?” You ask—Katsuki’s chest vibrates against your back.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he huffs, guiding hands sliding down your waist. “Keep goin’.”

Not that you were planning on stopping.

Katsuki’s hands slide between your thighs to rub at your clit. You nearly shout, thighs seizing, and the ash-blond chuckles at your inability to stay quiet as if he wasn’t sliding a free hand up your dress to play with your chest.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl—you aren’t even trying to hide it now, are ya? Moanin’ in the club like a goddamn whore.”

You nearly choke at that, slamming a hand over your lips to muffle the sound. Not that anyone would be able to hear you over the club music, but still. Public decency.

Either way, your reaction has Katsuki chuckling, and he hooks his chin over your shoulder as he says, “You like it when I call you dirty, Princess? You like when I point out how fuckin’ filthy you are for me?”

You nod your head vehemently, now bouncing on Katsuki’s cock with a newfound enthusiasm—and you figure the slap on your ass is a signal to respond.

“Answer me, slut.”

“Y-Yeah, I do,” you whimper, and Katsuki’s hand crawls from your breasts to your neck, cutting off your oxygen supply in the best way. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, nearly gasping as you slur:

“Gonna—gonna cum.”

“Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock in the middle of a club, huh?” Katsuki’s chuckle strains from arousal and you’re positive he’s not that far behind. The hand on your clit speeds up and Katsuki curses as you tighten around him, teeth digging into the meat of your shoulder.

“Cum for me, Princess, fuckin’ do it—“

You squeeze around him with a shout before your orgasm comes over you, shoulders shuddering. Katsuki groans out a broken good girl before his hips buck and grip tightens around your waist as he cums, hands guiding your hips to ride both of your orgasms out until they finally come to a still.

You shiver as Katsuki catches his breath in your neck. Eventually, your racing hearts beat in time with the music and bodies cool enough to not feel so slick with sweat, and finally, Katsuki pulls out with a groan. He doesn't remove you from his lap, though.

"You good?"

You nod, fixing your hair in hopes that you'll look more put together than you feel. "Yeah—yeah I'm fine. You?"

Katsuki turns you in his lap to face him (though it does take some awkward clambering due to the limited space). He zips up his fly and you pull down your dress, the next steps about as uncertain as walking in the dark.

"Why're you asking me?"

"I dunno," you shrug, bottom lip poking out in indifference, "Pussy can take a lot out of a guy, I guess."

Katsuki's pale pink lips slide into a lazy smile, and he drops his head with a snort. "I—yeah okay. Sure."

"What?" You giggle, gesturing at his heaving chest before crossing your hands over yours with a huff. "You're out of breath, aren't you? I did all the work."

Katsuki chuckles at your petulance, shaking his head in defeat, "Y'got me there."

He rests his head against the backboard of the booth to give you a look. You can't put your finger on it, but you feel exposed nonetheless, and you struggle not shrink from it. He licks his lips, "You drink, Princess?"

"Depends," you shrug. The ash-blond grins.

"What do you like?"

"Shirley Temples," you giggle, coiling your arms around his neck. Katsuki's hands return to your waist and it's...comfortable. "Why, you wanna buy me one?"

Katsuki makes a face that signifies yes, he does, and you follow his eyes in peering towards the dance floor again. You see your friend exactly where you saw her last, and upon feeling eyes on her, she looks around to find yours. She shoots you a wink—you roll your eyes.

"What about your friend?" Katsuki snorts, lifting an eyebrow. You snort.

"I found her, didn't I?" You wink, standing to your feet to pull him towards the bar. "Now c'mon! Doing all that work made me thirsty."

click to return to CLUB 777.

#— 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 #CLUB 777 #The VIP Booths #Bakugou smut #bnha smut #mha smut

898 notes · View notes

hartofhearts · 2 years

Text

Interrupted by Fireworks: the illusion over darker realities

Players love the dates for many reasons: it’s the culmination of their hard work with the affection mechanic, a silly interlude after hours of tension, an opportunity to bond with their character of choice. A sweet moment in time isolated from the heavier themes of the game.

But what if I told you that Tifa and Aerith’s dates are not just cute little flashes of fan service? That both dates are part of a broader arc highlighting how the girls recognize, confront, and decide to react to the reality of Cloud’s mental issues?

And what if I told you that “Interrupted by Fireworks” is not just the pretty Big Date song? That “Interrupted by Fireworks” serves as an important tool in threading this arc together and setting our romantic expectations stupidly high so they can be cruelly subverted later?

Well wonder no more, as that’s what we’ll be discussing today! Cut for an image-heavy, script-heavy post.

Recognition: At the Ghost Hotel

By the second Gold Saucer visit, both girls have serious concerns regarding Cloud. This is made obvious during the conversation at the Ghost Hotel.

On Aerith’s part, she is about to speak up about her misgivings when she uncharacteristically catches herself:

Aerith: ...You know... I think Hojo did something to those men in the Black Capes. But I don't know what it has to do with Sephiroth though... That's why I think we should just go after Sephiroth himself.

Barret: Yeah, me too! It's all just too damn confusin'.

Aerith: (she puts her hands behind her back and looks down) And... (she puts her hand in front of her mouth in a gesture of stopping herself) I'm sorry, forget it! I think I'm tired. I'm going to bed now. (she runs upstairs)

Cait Sith: What was that, all of a sudden!?

(Watch here)

The devs themselves want us to notice her secrecy--so they use the game itself (via Cait Sith) to call it out.

On Tifa’s part, her hidden fears about Cloud’s mental state erupt when Red XIII puts her thoughts into words:

Red XIII: Cloud... I'm number 13. Am I going to go mad too?

Tifa: (she walks towards Red XIII and bends close to him) I don't know what Hojo did to you, but you've been all right so far, right?

Red XIII: But...

Tifa: Be strong.

Red XIII: But, I...

Tifa: (she straightens back up and puts her hands on her hips) Stop it, Red XIII! Be strong!

Cloud: Tifa?

Tifa: (she stretches her arms behind her and leans into a shout) You're not the only one who's worried!

(Watch here)

(And yes, this moment is confirmed to be about Cloud per the Ultimania Omega: “Tifa interrupts Red XIII with unexpected roughness when he expresses his fear that he might go mad like the black cloaks they’ve seen in various places. This is because Tifa herself is afraid of the change that’s come over Cloud.” (Source))

The story’s the same here--the game itself (via Cloud) specifically remarks upon her unusual behavior, because yet again, the devs want to draw our attention to this noteworthy moment.

- 🎆 -

So why do the devs want to highlight these details? From a meta perspective, the devs want to pique our curiosity in order to give us the satisfaction of resolving it later... But from an in-game perspective, it’s because the strange behavior explains why the girls ask Cloud out on a date. After their discomfiting realizations at the Ghost Hotel, Tifa and Aerith cannot lay their worries to rest... so the girls use the pretense of a date to talk to Cloud about their suspicions. (Yes--I’m saying that plot-related reasons, not romantic ones, were their primary motivation for asking Cloud out.)

Acknowledgment: On the Gondola

For both girls, the gondola presents the perfect opportunity to talk to Cloud.

On Aerith's date, she reveals the following cryptic plot hints:

Aerith: ...first off, it bothered me how you looked exactly alike. Two completely different people, but look exactly the same. The way you walk, gesture... I think I must have seen him again, in you... But you're different. Things are different.

Aerith: Cloud... I'm searching for you.

Cloud: ...?

Aerith: I want to meet you.

Cloud: But I'm right here.

Aerith: (I know, I know...what I mean is...) I want to meet... you.

(Watch here)

Yes, it looks superficially like any standard date scene in any garden-variety JRPG. But many fans have already pointed out the underlying meaning of this dialogue: Aerith can sense that there’s something deeply wrong with Cloud. His true nature, whatever it is, is locked away... but for some reason, she can’t tell him directly. On the gondola, she tries to express that she's aware of Cloud’s issues, perhaps with the goal of trying to draw out his true self, if all it needs to reveal itself is simple acknowledgment. (Cloud, unfortunately, cannot comply.)

On Tifa's date, she even more cryptically alludes to her role in the plot:

Tifa: Ok, I'm going to just go ahead and say it...

Cloud: ...what?

Tifa: Aeris would be able to just come out and say it, probably. Cloud... Sometimes being old friends is hard. I mean, timing is everything.

Cloud: Yeah...

Tifa: Cloud...? I......

Tifa: ......................

(Watch here)

Yes, yes, this script also looks like a love confession scene from a particularly unoriginal anime. But much like everything else Tifa says and does pre-Lifestream, looks can be deceiving. Her earlier outburst provides the necessary context: she’s trying to overcome her own hesitations to address Cloud’s inconsistencies and possible madness. She may even hope to determine the truth of the situation, if she can start a conversation that Cloud won’t shy away from. (Tifa, unfortunately, hesitates for too long.)

- 🎆 -

Yet it is easy to overlook these hidden depths, as the dreaminess of these scenes presents us with a welcome distraction. Much like Cloud, we want to ignore the heavier implications. The magical atmosphere helps us focus on the romantic denotations, and “Interrupted by Fireworks” is permanently imprinted on our minds as the song for The Big Romantic Moment.

Personally, I find it fitting that both these conversations with their heavy double meanings occur at the Gold Saucer. Our glittering surroundings set the mood, and we allow ourselves to focus on the superficial beauty and simpler clichéd storytelling. But much like the tawdry gaudiness of the Gold Saucer itself, these conversations conceal darker anxieties about grim realities that we can't ignore forever.

Forgetfulness: The Prediction and the Discovery

This association primes us to recall the dates the next time we hear “Interrupted by Fireworks.” On each of the occasions where we hear the track outside of the Gold Saucer, the scenes call back to the unresolved ideas from each girl’s respective date.

For Aerith, at the Temple of the Ancients, “Interrupted by Fireworks” plays when Cait Sith predicts great compatibility between Aerith and Cloud. It feels like a triumphant moment: in spite of Aerith’s concerns over Cloud’s condition and her failure to draw out the truth the last time this song played, at least they’re still hitting romantic beats--Cait Sith even says that they’re perfect together. Cloud’s weird whatever-it-is can be swept under the rug. With this prediction and Cait Sith’s sacrifice for the Black Materia, we can assume that Cloud and Aerith have an easy road to love and happiness, that the team’s victory is assured. It doesn’t matter that something is wrong and unresolved with Cloud... right...?

For Tifa, at Mideel, “Interrupted by Fireworks” plays when she finally discovers that Cloud is not only alive but also nearby. This also feels like a triumphant moment: even though Tifa’s hesitation prevented her from talking to Cloud and drawing out the truth the last time this song played, at least she’ll finally get the opportunity to reunite with Cloud and express the feelings she's locked away for so long. We assume that Cloud and Tifa will finally be honest with each other--that the power of love and honesty will resolve everything in just a few minutes, allowing Cloud to rejoin the team and lead us on to victory... right...?

- 🎆 -

In these magical, larger-than-life moments, we remember how enchanted we were the last time we heard “Interrupted by Fireworks,” and we allow ourselves to be lulled into complacency. The details in these scenes fit so neatly into typical storytelling conventions; it's just so very easy to predict what happens next. But the devs are counting on our familiarity with story clichés so they can subvert our expectations and break our hearts.

Confrontation: The Attack and the Loss

Intoxicated by The Big Romantic Moment, we walk straight into an emotional ambush.

For Aerith, literally three minutes after her compatibility with Cloud is confirmed and Cait Sith bounces off to save the day, disaster strikes. Cloud’s unresolved issues result in him giving Sephiroth the Black Materia and violently attacking her, heedless of her entreaties. In one fell swoop, we are shown that Cloud’s issues are unpredictable and dangerous--that while they exist, we can’t just save the world, and Cloud and Aerith can’t just have a happy ending. While Sephiroth is a real and direct threat to Aerith, so too is Cloud’s condition and it cannot be ignored.

For Tifa, literally two minutes after she learns Cloud isn’t dead and she still has a chance to talk to him, her hopes are dashed. While he may be alive, Cloud is incapable of hearing Tifa’s truth and incapable of rejoining the team. What power do love and honesty have if the person who needs it most can't even perceive them? Tifa is too late--Cloud’s mental state is too broken to be fixed. At this point, it seems that Cloud’s issues will always exist, Cloud and Tifa will never truly reunite, and we will never beat the bad guy.

- 🎆 -

What’s so striking about both these scenes is that the root of the drama is ultimately Cloud’s issues. Cloud can’t ignore, hide from, or otherwise remain passive in the face of them... for as long as Cloud fails to resolve his internal conflict, he will never become the best version of himself. He will never have the strength to save the day and never have the power to find happiness.

Resolution: Decisions in the Aftermath

So if we’ve been following the girls’ struggles and parallels with Cloud’s condition all this time, we now need to ask... how do they choose to respond? How do these arcs conclude?

On Aerith’s part, she realizes that her responsibility as an Ancient is simply too great. She cannot choose Cloud’s well-being over the future of the Planet.

Aerith: Cloud, can you hear me?

Cloud: Yeah, I hear you. Sorry for what happened.

Aerith: Don't worry about it.

Cloud: ...I can't help it...

Aerith: Oh... Then, why don't you REALLY worry about it? And let me handle Sephiroth. (she laughs) And Cloud, you take care of yourself. So you don't have a breakdown, okay?

Cloud: What is this place?

Aerith: This forest leads to the City of the Ancients... and is called the Sleeping Forest. It's only a matter of time before Sephiroth uses Meteor. That's why I'm going to protect it. Only a survivor of the Cetra, like me, can do it.

(Watch here)

After the Temple of the Ancients, Aerith realizes that Cloud has to work through his issues. (“Then, why don’t you REALLY worry about it?”) But as the last survivor of the Cetra, Aerith has neither the time nor the knowledge to help him do so--and she cannot prioritize the mental state of a dangerous man over the well-being of the rest of the world. (“That's why I'm going to protect it. Only a survivor of the Cetra, like me, can do it.”) So when it comes to helping Cloud, Aerith makes the only decision she can: she can't. All she can do is hope that her chosen path will incidentally assist him in some way. Hope that clearing off his plate will give him the opportunity he needs to take it easy and at least prevent himself from getting any worse. (“Let me handle Sephiroth... you take care of yourself. So you don’t have a breakdown, okay?”)

Ultimately, Aerith has to choose the Planet over Cloud. And so she does. The scene of Aerith running away has its own double meaning: for Cloud and the player, Aerith is leaving us behind and running into an unknown, perilous future; but for Aerith, she is necessarily parting with Cloud. She must keep moving forward to fulfill her own duties, even if it means that Cloud--imperfect, broken, a threat to her safety and a danger to her mission--must be left behind. She cannot sacrifice everything, including herself, for Cloud’s sake.

On the flipside, Tifa realizes that while she is just one interchangeable body in the fight for the Planet, she isn’t when it comes to the fight for Cloud.

Doctor: Poor fellow, he can’t even speak. He is literally miles away from us. Some place far away where no one's ever been... All alone...

...

Tifa: Why...? What do you want me to do? Please, Cloud... Talk to me... Tell me you see me, that you can hear me... Tell me, please... I came this far believing in the memories we have together... This isn't happening...! This is too cruel... Oh, Cloud...! I....

...

Doctor: But remember, the light of hope can be found anywhere. If you give up hope... What will happen to him?

...

Barret: ...hope... Hey, but honestly, man... Do I really want him to come back? What did he do for the world? What can he do for us from here on out? He may be nothing more than Sephiroth's shadow...

...

Tifa: I don't care about anything else, only Cloud... I... want to be by his side...

...

Barret: Oh, and uh, Tifa... I don't like askin' this but...... Is he really your childhood friend? And not Sephiroth's shadow?

Tifa: Huh!? Well... that is... No, I'm sure of it!

(Watch here)

The doctor states that Cloud is “all alone,” and that if no one believes in or hopes for Cloud, then how will Cloud ever recover? (“If you give up hope... what will happen to him?”) But after Cloud’s catastrophic actions at the Northern Crater, how can anyone believe in Cloud? Even Barret, the person who knew Cloud the longest after Tifa, can’t bring himself to hope for Cloud or believe in him. (“...hope... [...] He may be nothing more than Sephiroth’s shadow.”) This means that Tifa, unique in her knowledge of Cloud’s past (“the memories we have together”) and her choice to believe in him ("No, I'm sure of it!"), is utterly irreplaceable to this defeated Cloud. Not only is she the only one who can unlock his memories, but she is the only one who cares for him without reservation.

Ultimately, Tifa chooses Cloud over the Planet. Tifa states, “I... want to be by his side.” This is a huge moment for Tifa--the first time she demonstrates that she finally has the resolve to express and act on her true feelings regarding Cloud. She is willing to sacrifice everything--her own revenge, her own comfort--for Cloud’s sake. And so she does, selflessly, in a thankless, inglorious position.

- 🎆 -

Until this moment, both girls had significant parallels with one another. They both recognized that something was wrong with Cloud. They both asked him out as a pretense, and they both tried to discuss Cloud’s issues with him. They both had big, romantic hopes which were destroyed by the reality of Cloud’s mental state. But the parallels end there.

Aerith: Then, I’ll be going now. I’ll come back when it’s all over.

...

Tifa: I... want to be by his side...

Both Aerith and Tifa have different abilities, thus different roles and different priorities. Aerith and Tifa have to make radically different decisions when the time comes to deal with Cloud’s issues. Aerith cannot, should not, and does not; Tifa can, should, and does.

Final thoughts:

So what about Yuffie and Barret? “Interrupted by Fireworks” only plays five times in the entire game: (1) your date with Aerith, (2) your date with Tifa, (3) at the Temple of Ancients, (4) at Mideel, and... (5) on your date with Yuffie. Barret’s date gets his theme, sadly. Neither of them have follow ups with the theme. Neither Yuffie nor Barret allude to plot elements at the Ghost Hotel, and both Yuffie’s and Barret’s dates are played off as comedy. I think their dates are safely not plot-significant.

Gondola observation, part 1: both Aerith and Tifa look away from Cloud before the camera cuts to the view of the Gold Saucer (and the moments when they are most emotionally vulnerable).

Gondola observation, part 2: Tifa says Aerith would just “come out and say it,” and she’s kinda right. Aerith is much more forthright, but still can’t be direct, as she too senses that being too open will break Cloud. Still, I love how the girls know each other so well.

Cloud’s replies to Aerith after the Gondola: After the gondola ride, Aerith asks, “Don’t you like being with me?” Cloud can reply with either “No, I don’t” or “That’s not it.” I actually wonder if both these responses are subtly related to his issues. “I don’t like being with you” being a result of his Sephiroth copy status and future animosity towards her; “that’s not it” being a result of his discomfort with her knowledge of his issues.

Cloud’s response to Tifa after the Gondola: After the ride, Cloud asks, “What did you want to say a minute ago...?” Seems Cloud didn’t realize what Tifa was trying to get at his clone issues or he wouldn’t be so curious. Which makes sense at this point of the game: he still thinks Tifa completely believes he’s Cloud the cool SOLDIER from Nibelheim.

This post is the result of my recent meta on Tifa’s half of this story. Special thanks to @terra-fatalis who talked this idea through with me!

#ffvii #final fantasy vii #ff7 #final fantasy 7 #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough #aeris gainsborough #cloud strife #og spoilers #meta #analysis #tifa #aeris #aerith #cloti

112 notes · View notes

wyrm-in-the-apple · 2 years

Text

Eating the Forbidden Hi-C

(image: Viral Transport Media)

At my work, the covid tests I run come in tubes of viral transport media (VTM) - a bright, fruity-red liquid that looks like it should be delicious.

I would never drink it.

You could not pay me enough for that resolve to waver.

As delicious as it looks, I know that the VTM would not be pleasant to drink! Even ignoring its potential taste, it’s full of nasal mucus - and possibly covid viruses. Even if I knew that a specific tube of VTM were covid-negative, just the idea of drinking someone’s nasal discharge revolts me. I don’t even get intrusive thoughts about drinking it!

So what would make someone do it?

It’s the core of one of the trickiest problems to square for Black Apple Blues - why does Night eat the dark apple? Given what is known about them, eating one is akin to drinking the Forbidden Hi-C: it’s not just stupid - it’s irresponsible. Night is putting himself, the villagers, and especially Dream at risk. So why does he do it?

In Main timeline Dreamtale, Night’s motivations make sense - Night initially goes for a golden apple to prove his worth, and it’s only when everything has gone royally fucked and he’s in immediate danger that he eats the dark apple in a desperate call for help.

But in BwB? The ghost timeline is inherently pre-apple incident, because it’s inspired by Quo’s (@the-kk-crow) DTS ukagaka. And being bookish and a guardian, it would make sense that Night would know the effects of the apples. In BwB lore, the consequences of eating a dark apple are notably dire. So what would make him do it?

Interestingly, the motivations in the appleswap ficlets came easier to me. Obviously, Night going for a golden apple makes sense - it’s what he does in the main timeline, and who wouldn’t want to experience some positivity in their life? The key difference for “Gold Apple Glee” would be to ensure that Night goes for the gold apple in a mindset that wouldn’t convert it. Having him ride on an excited high, pleased enough to not let small mistakes drag him down - well, it seems like an obvious choice in retrospect, doesn’t it? (Side note: one key aspect I wanted to foreground was Night’s positivity being derived from his success and self-worth. It is very easy to make a desire for positivity into a metaphor for drugs, and I wanted to avert that implication here. As Quo joked on the server: ‘they’re not drugs; they’re anti-depressants!’)

As for Dream going for the dark apple - look, there’s a reason their tag is #have a plan to kill everyone you meet. Where Night faces the villagers’ overt ire, Dream has to sit and smile against their two-facedness, because they’ve learned that speaking up rarely goes well for them. It feeds a bitterness that could easily spill into the reckless ‘maybe they’re all wrong’ nigh-spitefulness that causes them to go for the dark apple in “Resolutely Black”. And honestly, they do not care what happens to the villagers. From their perspective, it’s akin to growing up queer in a homophobic small town, and they’re just better at ‘playing straight’ than Night is. (Continuing this analogy, this makes the apple incident effectively a gay-bashing that ended with their brother in a coma.)

For BwB!Night’s motivation though? There were several things that I wanted to be incorporated to not break our established themes: 1) eating the apple must be Night’s decision (even if he’s in an addled state when he does so). He can’t accidentally ingest it. He must decide to eat the dark apple. 2) He can’t be ignorant of the consequences. Given his knowledge and the roles impressed upon them, it doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t know the dangers. 3) Night’s primary mindset must be loneliness, (which sows the seeds (heh!) of Mare’s attachment to Night) 4) Night must not recklessly put others at risk. BwB!Night doesn’t want to hurt anyone; he just wants his mistreatment to stop.

While I’m not completely happy with Night’s motivation as described in “All-Natural Cyanide”, I think I covered these bases pretty well - a sleep-derived haze of self-loathing and maudlin over-identification with the dark apples leads to him wanting to punish himself with the dark apples’ foul taste. When it is sweeter than he expects, it doesn’t fully register as that thing that’s leveled the village before. He doesn’t tell anyone about it because he misremembers the events as a bad dream, and as the symptoms start to show, Night thinks back to how he vomited up what he ate and took the tincture of golden apple juice, which is pretty much all he can do to head off dark apple possession. By the time Night has concluded that yes, he is possessed by the dark apple, Mare has proven himself to be at least amenable to persuasion, so the responsibility to tell anyone about what he’s done lessens and lessens as time goes on.

It’s not a perfect motivation, by any means - Night is still acting recklessly and selfishly out of fear and worry - and how Night responds may change as the series unfolds, but it is sufficient.

#dreamtale #Dreamtale Preincident #text post #bwb #apple lore #writing mood #lotta pretty words for someone writing about sanses lbr #all-natural cyanide #appleswap #references and influences #sorta #mentions of queerphobia in the textdump #i did cheat a bit by having the dark apple practically jump into Night's lap #but i thought having Night show compassion to something as lowly and hated as an ant was too cute to forego #i'm also pleased at the contrasting metaphors that arise thanks to appleswap!Night going for an apple on a new moon vs a full moon #appleswap!Night is in uncharted territory #positivity and self-worth aren't things he's used to #whereas bwb!Night acts on a full moon #his path is clear before him #he has resigned himself to being nothing more than what people expect of him #and it's the sweetness that throws him #because he doesn't expect anything good to come from the dark apples #and so on

23 notes · View notes

mrskurono · 2 years

Note

Hello. I don't really know if your request are open but I was wondering could you do something with Dr stone where you get your period and the see blood dripping down your clothes.in the stone age and you have to explain it to the gang or something like . Sorry if it's to much

a/n: Yesss a Dr. Stone request! I took it more of "How they react to your period" so I hope you don't mind ♡

type: headcanons tags: fem!reader, blood mention, menstrual cycle mention, cramps, etc. character(s): Senku, Kohaku, Chrome, Gen, Kinro, Ginro (dcst)

Senku Ishigami

He is anything but resourceful

In the most tactful way possible, chances are Senku has already marked your cycle down mentally

For both preparation sake annnnd to lowkey understand possible affects of petrification on the human body

He's Senku the verdicts still up on if he's creepy or considerate

"Keep this with you. You'll probably need it."

A kind of Senku themed way to pass on the handful of sea sponges he had Taiju collect prior as well as the best makeshift pad he could manage

He's not wrong though so it's hard to be angry with him

Senku isn't grossed out by any of it and talks quite frank with you if you need help but that's about as far as his ability to help goes

If aches keep you up at night though he will sit and rub your back

But will then raid the shed of science for any medicinal means the next morning because Senku doesn't like anyone having sleepless nights

Kohaku

Just like hers monthly, yours also surprises her right outta the blue

"You're bleeding!"

Tactless when she realizes what it is dripping down your thigh and then asks for forgiveness

Every single month she does this

Kohaku is very prompt at offering relief for anything you need

Including getting spring water to soak in as well as rubbing your back as much as you need

As for stopping the blood?

She's utterly useless

But she is very good at keeping people away from you and tending to your needs

Almost like a protective lioness

Until the following month and it surprises her all over again

Chrome

He tries, he really really does try. But alas he is sometimes a caveman

"Shit your bleeding! Wait wait wait- Oh crap you're on your period!"

Thank you sir points out the obvious a lot

Chrome is still a good balance of helpful science and tender bed side manner when it boils down to it

Aside from a perfect chance to test out different herbal routes he's gathered over the years, Chrome also has figured out good absorbent material that can at least make it look less like a blood bath

And any good science man isn't squeamish so clean up is just part of it with him

Chrome isn't as well versed in modern remedies but he understands tried and trusted ones

Heat, back rubs and good food

He'll probably get yelled at a few times for being too loud but Chrome's hearts in the right place every month no matter what weird contraction he ends up presenting you with

Gen Asagiri

Shit head

"Looks like you might as well opt for a red ensemble in the stone age my dear."

Though underhanded, Gen won't make a scene with you've unfortunately miscounted and end up sat in a puddle of blood

Perhaps the only time his slight of hand comes in handy in fact

When he's getting everyone to pay attention to him while you get a chance to leave without a scene

Gen can't offer primitive kotex or natures midol but he can offer surprisingly good company

Might be a lowkey reason to lay around all day eating disguised as companionship

He figures out when to shut up quicker than Chrome though and that's almost worth it's weight in gold in this group

Extremely good at keeping anything to triggering away and the loudness down to a minimum

The only time his showmanship seems to be handy is when you want a quiet day eating ramen

Ginro

It goes as poorly as imagined

Everyone knows you're on your period

If Ginro knows, everyone knows

Panic sets in probably worse for him seeing any form of blood painting your thighs and/or clothes than it does for you

Think of him as an annoying alarm clock letting you know your cycle started

As prompt as he is to freak that you're bleeding, he's equally prompted to be grossed out by it

By no fault of his own, Ginro thinks everything is gross but PMS doesn't reason with stupid well

Being forward with your needs and sharp tongued is probably you're best bet with him

And once Ginro figures out it isn't contagious and isn't deadly, he does make a fairly decent human shaped hot water bottle to lay on

After you threaten him with real blood spill that is

Kinro

This are stone men ok, please, they're trying

Kinro is onset panicky as his brother is but with less of the gross out factor

The blood worries him, you're dip in mood worries him, everything about it worries him

Followed with absolutely no idea how to provide solutions or what rules to follow to make it through this

Leaving Kinro to defer to you almost entirely (still with a slightly worried look on his face the entire time)

Doesn't find anything overtly icky like his brother does but Kinro is still very prompt in getting you washed off as soon as possible

Will sheepishly ask Chrome and Senku for advice

To which both of them could possibly be useless depending on the day

Kinro still tries though and if you need it he'll get it

Benefit of Kinro? Amazing hugs and very warm hands that he will happily set on your back or stomach if you ask

#tw periods #dcst #dr stone #dcst headcanons #dr stone headcanons #senku ishigami #senkuishigami #dcst senku #gen asagiri #dcst gen #chrome #dcst chrome #kohaku #dcst kohaku #kinro #ginro #dcst kinro #dcst ginro

86 notes · View notes

illneverrecover · 4 years

Text

ravenous (M) | jjk

➛pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader ➛genre: vampire!AU, vampire!Jungkook, human reader, smut, humor, fluff, porn with minimal plot. ➛word count: 3486 ➛rating: M ➛warnings: Mentions of blood, mentions of blood drinking, cursing, heavy petting, making out, marking/biting, fingering. Pretty tame for a vamp fic. ➛summary: Jungkook may be a lethal creature of the night, but that doesn’t mean he’s impervious to crushes, especially on his beautiful boss. Now if he could only make his move. ➛notes: I’m a dingus. This fic was written for the @bangtanshadowfamily Halloween Event, The Creatures of Moonlight Manor. Today, the first day, is in honor of Jeon Jungkook - but for some reason I was convinced this was due tomorrow. I don’t know why I’m like this. So while it was a bit rushed, I hope you all still enjoy sweet endearing vamp baby kookie. It’s also my submission for the theme of ‘Monster’ for October’s mini project in @thebtswritersclub (because sexy monsters are still valid). Also, extra love to @quinnkook and @jimins-ass-eater who helped me with the premise and the world of Saccharine. Love you, bbs. 🖤 ➛song: POISON - GOT7 & Singularity - BTS

“So, are you going to talk to her tonight?”

“Hmm, who? Y/N?” Jungkook feels the rush of blood to his cheeks without having to check in the mirror in front of him, and it makes him all the more shy. “I don’t know, Tae. She’s probably busy.”

The older male scoffs, plopping down in a chair next to him in the dressing room, kicking his feet up onto the counter. It was Friday, so the club had been busy, however instead of looking tired his brother was practically glowing, the usual pallor given way to a warm gold, eyes bright and sharp.

“Jungkook, she’s not busy - she just got off work, just like you did.” His words sound harsh, but the look he gives the younger vampire is gentle, encouraging. “Plus, I heard she was asking for you again.”

This gives Jungkook pause, his undead heart leaping a bit in his chest. “Really?”

Before he could respond, the door to the dressing room slams open, Jimin and Hoseok coming to join them in their post blood drunk bliss.

“Yeah, probably because she heard you’re not drinking still,” Jimin huffs, gracefully darting the elbow Hoseok tried to drop on him at his bluntness. “What? Don’t boo me, I’m right.”

The chorus of heavy sighing from two of the four vampires was honestly impressive.

“Yes, you may be right, technically-” Hoseok starts, coming to lean against the counter and face the younger men. “But also, it’s pretty obvious Y/N is soft for you, Kook. She’s been doting on you ever since you met.”

Jungkook chewed his lip, contemplating the words. Were you really soft for him?

When he first met you, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You were gorgeous - legs for miles, plush lips painted the slightest tint of red, your piercing eyes and beautiful smile - it had been like he was under a spell in that first meeting, with how he was hanging on your every word. Your co-owners - which he learned were your best friends, as well - were also stunning, truly a power trio of three business savvy women who knew what they wanted and how to get it. All of them were impressive, but there was something about you that pulled him in.

You were naturally kind; the type of genuine that seemed hard to find, especially since vampires had decided to let their presence be known to the world. After coming ‘out’, so to speak, humans had been inexplicably drawn to the supernatural like a moth to flame; the danger, the mystery, the power all so intoxicatingly fascinating. It became a sport for Jungkook to spot the fakes, the groupies that just wanted to be swept away with the fantasy instead of the person behind it. And while yes, there was something that you wanted, you were upfront about it; a mutually beneficial business proposition.

A supernatural club, geared towards vampires. One where the vampires on staff could mingle with humans, court them for an evening. Dancing, drinks, the usual club fare all present - with an addition of private suites, used for feeding.

This was a win-win, according to you. As owners, you would be providing a service to the human population of an experience that they likely wouldn’t find elsewhere - the chance to rub elbows with vampires. To spend a night doing things only seen in their wildest of dreams, but in a safe and controlled environment. In turn, the vampires would be paid to do something they already needed to do - eat. They’d get to feed from the source instead of blood bags, and would be complying with all consent laws. And by being provided a wide array of humans each night, would be able to avoid the risk of a blood bond forming.

That bit had been surprising to the humans when vamps had first made themselves known. Most of the tropes for the supernatural races had been based in fact, as far as their abilities and weaknesses went, and it was no exception for the blood suckers. The miniscule amount of magic and glamour vamps could wield was basically predictable after decades of feral and sparkling vampire movies alike, but the fact that feeding off the same source repeatedly could eventually form a blood bond had shocked them.

Most vampires were smart about it, tracked it on their own to deflect any unnecessary drama - but it was a hassle. One that your club would handle for them.

His brothers had been impressed with the offer; eyes shining with admiration as the details were laid out before them. It only took them five minutes of deliberation to vote in favor of working alongside the businesswomen of Saccharine. The seven of them within the Bangtan coven would be employees at the club, and they would also help them secure a few other covens to be on roster as well. A local werewolf chapter would be working as well, helping as service staff and the bouncers. Hand shakes were given, contracts signed.

The first few days had been awkward as you all got to know each other, learning the layout of the club itself and the expectations as entertainers. However, friendships were fastly formed, the three women basically becoming human additions to the coven within a matter of weeks. Jungkook had noticed that while you were social and open, you tended to stand back a bit more than the others; a little more reserved than your friends, a little more observant. It made him smile, to realize that maybe you were just a little bit like him, even in a small way.

Over time, he learned how you managed your interactions; helping the others if they needed something related to work, and skirting around any line of questioning that you found too personal. You liked them all, that much was clear, but you seem guarded in a way that intrigued him. Jungkook found himself going to you over the others for any questions or concerns, quickly discovering that you had a lot in common - both loving photography, playing all types of games that let you show off your competitive streak, and having a soft spot for animals.

You did seem to open up more with him than others, spending breaks chatting with each other instead of hanging out in the loud back room, sitting next to him during meetings to share memes under the table. He told himself it was his imagination when it seemed like you were seeking him out more as well, that you were just being your kind and genuine self.

He was confident that you were his friend, but were you interested in more?

“He’s right,” Taehyung pats his shoulder, giving him a smirk. “I mean, do you see her bringing anyone else blood laced coffees before a shift? Or their favorite snacks? I don’t get that kind of treatment.”

Rolling his eyes, Jimin comes to stand behind the brunette, flicking him on the back of the head until Taehyung turns around to give him a pout. “Yes you do, just not from Y/N. I’m pretty sure Red brought you a hot chocolate that same day, laced with her own blood-”

“Yeah, she did. She’s amazing,” he sighs dreamily, thinking of his other boss, melting a bit in his chair. “I asked her the other day if she’d let me blood bond with her and she didn’t even flinch-”

“Hey!” Hoseok shouts, giving the others a glare before leaning in front of Jungkook. “This is about Kookie here, not about your slutcapades, Tae.” With a serious jaw, he grasps both of the younger man's shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. “She likes you, Jungkook. You just got to make your move.”

“Well how do I do that?”

Jimin slides into his vision, knocking Hoseok aside with a slight bump of his hip, a sly grin on his face. “She already likes you, right? You’re a vampire, Jungkook,” the look in his eyes is almost predatory, voracious. “Just turn up your otherworldly charm and she won’t be able to resist.”

The advice of his brothers rattles in his head as he moves throughout the emptying club, the music turned down to a whisper of background noise as the other employees move to start the cleaning process. He could tell you were still here, could still smell the lingering scent of your light perfume mixed with your natural fragrance that was wafting towards him from the back of the building, where the feeding rooms were.

The lace see through shirt was biting at his skin, hands coming to smooth it down in place and wonder for the fiftieth time if it was perhaps too much. The others had assured him otherwise, practically drooling at the sight of him, promising that you would love it. It did look good on him, he had to admit; the black fabric setting off the golden glow of his toned abdomen, the matching cloth trousers form fitting and comfortable. The dark sparkling blazer on top had been his input at the last second, when he got self conscious about his nipples being exposed while trying to ask you on a date.

It’s during this internal monologue that he finds you down the hall with the private suites, closing the door on one just to dart into another, most likely cleaning and making sure there are no stragglers left. You are stunning, per usual - dressed in a long sleeved form fitting black dress, heels clicking delicately as you maneuver on the tile, looking every part of someone who would own a seductive vampire club.

Smiling, he strides closer to you, pausing only when he’s beside you.

“Hey, Y/N.”

Startling, you let out a puff of air, hand rising to cover your heart. “Oh, hey Jungkook - you scared the shit out of me,” you chuckle, shaking your head. “What’s going on?”

Now that he was this close to you, his nerves rallied against him, and if he had fed recently enough he was sure his blush would give him away. Swallowing thickly, he turns on just a bit of his glamour - not enough to affect how you respond, but just enough to make him look a bit more enticing.

“I was wondering if maybe we could talk?” Leaning against the door jam, he inclines his head towards the door of the final suite. “Alone? In here?”

He can hear the rhythm of your heart increase as you stare up at him, can see the rise and fall of your chest as you catch your breath. It was only a blink of a moment, but Jungkook can feel his confidence building at all the things you were saying without saying a word.

“Sure.”

It was only once he was enclosed in the room with you, the air thick with your scent that he realizes just how long it’s been since he fed, just how hungry he was for you. He guides you over to the bright red couch, gesturing for you to sit and joining you close enough that his body was pressed up against yours.

“There...there was something I wanted to talk to you about, if that’s okay,” he murmurs, voice low. Reaching for your hand, he eyes you closely as he picks it up, intertwining his fingers with yours before replacing it back in your lap. He watches for your reaction, waits for you to pull away, but instead you give him a small smile.

A good sign.

“Is it about the fact that you aren’t eating? Because I’ve noticed Kookie,” you chide, worry evident in your face. “If it’s something we’re doing wrong, if we’re not pulling enough of the right kind of clientele for you, you can tell us. You know that, right?”

The concern on your brow has him grinning, reaching out with his free hand to smooth the lines on your forehead. “Of course, I know that. Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad, just worried,” you pout, face heating at the sensation of his touch. Despite the many times you had interacted with Jungkook, your body always reacts wildly to the feel of his skin on your own. “So what is it? Why won’t you feed?”

Inhaling deeply, he gathers his courage, his gaze flickering from fondness to something darker, more tempestuous.

“Because the only one I want is you.”

Before you can respond - and before he can lose his nerve - he’s leaning in dangerously close, his mouth posed right above your own. It’s only when his lips press against you, at the zing of electricity that races down your spine that you finally react, jumping away from him with a small squeak.

“Wait, what did you say?” Shock has your eyes widening, but your hand remains enclosed in his. “Jungkook? You want… me?”

Bashfulness overtakes him, has him breaking the eye contact to stare down at his lap. He wants to say something smooth, something seductive that would make Jimin proud, but instead he chuckles, his free hand coming to rub at the back of his neck.

“I’ve wanted you since the first time I met you,” he stutters, doe eyes returning to peer into your soul. “I like you a lot, and I was hoping… you would feel the same?”

A short, incredulous laugh leaves your lips, and for a moment Jungkook prepares himself for defeat, is already thinking of all the things he could say to make you forget this ever happened - until you grasp his jaw, pulling him back to your mouth.

“I do feel the same,” you purr, lids heavy as you free your hand from his to cup his face, ensuring he could see what you were saying. “And.. I’d be honored to be yours.”

“Good.”

The responding kiss was searing, frantic as your mouths moved with one another, your hand sinking into the hair at his nape. In all his years of life, undead or otherwise, Jungkook had never felt anything as rapturous as kissing you, and was certain he never would again. He moans against your mouth when you slide a leg over to straddle his lap, his mind lost to the vehement pleasure at the feel of your body on top his own, at the way you consumed him with tongue and teeth.

His hands trail up the exposed skin of your thighs, caressing the flesh under the fabric of your dress as you press deeper, licking into his mouth. His cock was straining against the fabric of his pants, and with a slight shift of your hips, your core was pressing against him, a small mewl leaving your lips.

Something about the sound of you crying out for him in combination with the indulgent tease of your body mingling with his had his blood lust awakening, his fangs elongating painfully in his mouth. He had been starving for so long, withholding himself of his only form of sustenance that he was now ravenous with need for you.

Using his strength, Jungkook pulls away from your lips with a whine, dropping his head to the crook of your neck. “Please, Y/N,” he begs, his pelvis thrusting up against yours like a man possessed, fingers pressing indents into the globe of your ass. “Let me taste you, let me have you.”

Eyes rolling back, you stroke his hair, the fingers still tangled in his tresses pulling gently, earning you another low moan. The laws of consent meant that he couldn’t sink a single fang into the pulse at your throat until you had given him permission to, and for a brief moment you feel drunk on the power of having such a strong vampire at your mercy.

“Is that what you want, baby?”

Jungkook groans, mouthing messily at the exposed skin of your neck, your clavicle. His hands trail away from your bottom, thumbs now tugging playfully at the elastic of your panties, long fingers teasing with the dripping wetness of your cunt.

“Yes, yes. That’s all I want, want to taste your blood, want to taste you here-” he pauses, two digits swirling gently against the bundle of nerves at your apex. “Want you to be mine.”

With a hiss, you loll your head to the side, lowering yourself to give him access. “Do it, then. I’m all yours.”

A muffled cry of his name echoes in the room as he bites down, fangs plunging into the thin skin of the vein of your throat. Pleasure surges through the wound, the venom causing an euphoric bliss to over take you as he drinks deeply, moaning after each swallow.

Your blood is rich, sweet, a full bodied wine that he couldn’t help but to get drunk on, couldn’t get enough of. Even better, your blood had been untainted - never tasted by another vampire - and the realization has him sucking harder, daydreaming of what it will be like to be blood bonded with you.

To have you as his, in the same way that he had always been yours.

Your hand is stroking at his jaw, your whines increasing in crescendo as his fingers continued to work at your clit, alternating small squeezes with sweeping circles. He knew he would need to stop drinking soon, but his carnal desire is demanding to keep pushing until you are coming undone, losing all sense because of him, his touch.

Pulling away slightly, he begins to lick at the marks he left behind, suckling them harder as his hand picks up speed. “Fuck. You taste so fucking good. You’ve ruined me for anyone else,” he husks, mouth dragging up the curve of your throat until he was clasping your face one more, yanking you until you’re hovering over his lips.

Writhing against him, you feel yourself edging close to release, hips chasing the flicks of his wrists to give you more of the sweet friction you yearn for.

“I’m so close,” you pant, eyes squeezing shut. “Please, wanna come, all for you.”

He nibbles at your bottom lip, his mouth so close yet still not closing the distance. “Is that what you want, baby?” he smirks, alluding to your earlier words. “Want to make a mess of my fingers?”

With your affirming moan, his lips drop into a kiss, melding with yours fervently as he works his digits against you with supernatural speed. He can tell your high is near, can hear the way your heart thuds and your lungs seize as you teeter towards the edge of orgasm. When he feels you about to snap, he drags a single sharp point of his fang against the swollen flesh of your pout, just enough to draw blood, before he begins lapping and suckling at the small wound.

The ecstasy rush of venom on top of his otherworldly movements against your core send you flying over the edge, stars dancing in your vision as your orgasm tears through you. Wailing his name, you collapse against him, shuddering as he works you through the high, only slowing when he was sure you were spent.

While you catch your breath, he slowly peels his hand away from your center, raising it to his lips.

“You taste good here, too.” He grins cheekily, shifting you until your forehead is pressed against his own. “Can’t wait to try it at the source.”

Giggling, you slide your hands around his neck, using him as leverage to slide closer to fully embrace him. His cock jumps at the movement, and your eyes dance with mischief. “What if I want a turn to taste you first?”

Suddenly, a loud knock raps against the door, causing you both to squeal in surprise. A muffled chuckle from the other side snaps you back into reality - that you and Jungkook were not in the comforts of your own homes, but instead in one of the suites at the club.

The club that you owned, the one that was still occupied by it’s nosey employees.

“As proud as I am of Jungkookie for finally making a move, I think you should probably take him back to your place for your turn, Y/N,” Hoseok shouts, amusement evident in his voice.

From somewhere beside him, Jimin cheers loudly, and from the answering low giggle, Taehyung was there too, all witnessing the moment.

Sighing, Jungkook buries his face into your chest, this time with enough blood in his system to have heat flood his cheeks. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“What is? That your brothers interrupted us, or that my employees just heard me orgasm?” You pretend to ponder, tapping a finger against your chin

Stifling his laughter, he pulls away to look up at you, his gaze sparkling and darkening with each passing moment.

“Don’t worry, that’s the last time they’ll do either of those things,” he murmurs, before claiming your lips once more.

507 notes · View notes

friendlylocalweebtrash · 4 years

Text

BNHA Boys and their favorite color of lingerie to see you in Pt.1 - Students

A/N: Hi guys!! Okay so apologies in advance that I don’t have an ask ready to go or the Bakugo fic done yet. I’ve been kinda busy and unmotivated but I wanted to put something out for y’all! I plan on doing these HCs for the Heroes and Villains as well. As soon as something else finished I’ll be posting that as well! Have a lovely day!

***************************************************************************************

Students

Bakugo – orange or black, also red, but if you wear something inspired by his hero costume be prepared to not leave the bedroom for a LONG time because he will be absolutely feral.

Midoriya – green for obvious reasons, but I also feel like he’d be a fan of navy or any deep blue. If you wear something All Might themed he’s gonna be HELLA flustered because he’ll like it but be embarrassed because he knows All Might personally.

Todoroki – I feel like Shoto is a fan of soft colors like baby blue and light grey (not just because they match his eyes, don’t @ me) because they compliment your soft personality and calming nature.

Kirishima – red, duh. I don’t even need to explain this one. Wear something Red Riot themed and watch him go feral.

Iida – white, nude, blush; what can I say, this man likes simplicity and classy soft colors. It lets him appreciate your natural beauty without interference.

Kaminari – y’all already know this little pika pika boi wants to see you in yellow and gold, a bright color befitting of his buzzy beautiful sunshine nugget.

Sero – Yellow for sure, Like a soft yellow though, a pretty color for his pretty girl. I also feel like he would love to see you in burgundy, just a hunch.

Tokoyami – Goth boi loves you in black, duh, but really any dark colors will do he just loves you looking like his very own Morticia. Now on the contrary Dark Shadow will go bonkers seeing you in some pretty, soft florals in light colors.

Shinso – Like Tokoyami, he loves dark colors on you, but he’s partial to basically any shade of purple. Wear something with cats on it I dare you.

Tamaki – anything muted or soft, specifically lavender, pale yellow, and mauve I think. He’s v soft so I feel like bright colors would be too much for him.

#bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #tamaki headcanons #todoroki headcanons #bakugou headcanons #midoriya headcanons #kirishima headcanon #kaminari headcanons #sero headcanons #shinsou headcanons #tokoyami headcanons #iida headcanons #bnha x reader #bnha smut

499 notes · View notes

sk1fanfiction · 3 years

Text

the many faces of tom riddle, part 1

-no hate (this is merely my humble opinion) but i strongly dislike tom hughes as tom riddle, and here’s why-

FULL DISCLAIMER THAT THIS IS JUST MY OPINION OF A CHARACTER WHO DOESN’T HAVE THE STRONGEST CANON CHARACTERIZATION, AND THUS ALL THIS IS BASED ON MY CONCEPTUALIZATION.

Just personally, this fancast induces a lot of cognitive dissonance for me, but this is the first time I’ve been able to sit down and articulate properly why it always throws me for a loop.

Now, does he fit the visual/aesthetic archetype?

Yes. I understand completely why people like this fancast. We know that he is studious, intellectual, and (at the time people generally fancast him for) involved in the criminal underground, and he more-or-less fits the physical description.

And, to be clear, it’s not that I don’t think Tom Hughes could play Tom Riddle, it’s that I don’t think the character he plays in the fancasts is a close enough approximation of Tom Riddle.

For me, herein lies the issue.

Tom Riddle’s character is all about the emotions bubbling under the surface. He’s a disaster waiting to happen -- he’s angry, he’s lonely, he wants revenge, he feels empty and hopeless and desperate, he’s irrational...

Not sure what movie/show the Tom Hughes clips come from, but the character he plays isn’t that at all. the character he plays is very self-possessed, poised, self-aware. Reflective. Remorseful (there are clips of him crying when/after he shoots someone). Introspective.

That, to me, is not Tom Riddle at all.

Yes, he does deal with moral conflict, but it’s never at the forefront of his mind. It’s not something he’s constantly grappling with. He doesn’t really... brood in this Hamlet-esque way.

Tom doesn’t think. Sure, he plans, he ruminates, he rationalizes a posteriori. But he’s very unaware of himself (in fact, it’s one of his fatal flaws). It’s not that he doesn’t have emotions; just that his internal state is a mystery most of the time.

He doesn’t connect with his own emotions; he is completely estranged from them. Tom cannot tell you whether he is happy or sad (not just because of his pride). He keeps his emotions and moral compass (which are highly uncomfortable things), in a locked little box, swallows the key, and disregards them. And yet, this character connects so deeply with his emotions that even the audience can see exactly what he’s going through.

(There’s an openness -- an ease of vulnerability -- that Tom Riddle doesn’t have)

The thing about Tom, is that he hates himself just as much as he hates everyone around him. Creating Horcruxes to save himself from death is not an act of self-love, or even narcissism to the extreme; instead, forcibly ripping your own soul seven times is the most literally and metaphorically self-destructive thing a person could possibly do.

"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction —"

If we go all the way back to Book 1, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, you’ll remember that the eponymous material (first described in the Epic of Gilgamesh) is capable of producing the Elixir of Life, a magical substance that makes its drinker immortal, as long as you have a steady supply. Not only that, but according to the beliefs of historical alchemists (such as Nicholas Flamel), it was capable of curing any disease. In the alchemical tradition, it symbolized perfection, enlightenment, and heavenly bliss.

If all Tom Riddle was concerned about was prolonging his life, this is the obvious (and better) option.

Here’s the alchemical symbol of the Philosopher’s Stone. Looks kind of like the Deathly Hallows symbol, right? It represents the interplay of the (at the time, believed) four elements of matter -- a sort of periodic table, if you will.

The mature Philosopher’s Stone was believed to be a red stone (for making gold), and the immature one a white stone (for making silver). Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, anyone??

"So he's made himself impossible to kill by murdering other people?" said Harry. "Why couldn't he make a Sorcerer's Stone, or steal one, if he was so interested in immortality?"

And Dumbledore responds:

"But there are several reasons why, I think, a Sorcerer's Stone would appeal less than Horcruxes to Lord Voldemort.”

"While the Elixir of Life does indeed extend life, it must be drunk regularly, for all eternity, if the drinker is to maintain the immortality. Therefore, Voldemort would be entirely dependent on the Elixir, and if it ran out, or was contaminated, or if the Stone was stolen, he would die just like any other man. Voldemort likes to operate alone, remember. I believe that he would have found the thought of being dependent, even on the Elixir, intolerable...”

And while, yes, he did try to steal it rather than make it, I am sure that in the time it took Tom to make all of his Horcruxes, he could have learned enough alchemy to produce it for himself (or wheedled the information out of Nicholas Flamel). While Dumbledore hypothesizes that it’s because Tom hates feeling dependent, this must be irony, because he spends the first book as a literal parasite, the next three as a virtually helpless creature, and the remainder still reliant on his Horcruxes.

"Well, you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

But, like me, Dumbledore is making guesses at Tom Riddle’s internal state, and in this case, I think, he’s made an oversight. Horcruxes make him equally as dependent as the Philosopher’s Stone would have. It’s been established in canon that you cannot make yourself immortal without help; either you rely on the continued existence of your Horcruxes or your supply of the Elixir.

And while the Elixir represents the positive aspects of eternal life, like renewal, rebirth, and the cyclical nature of the universe (see above the ouroboros of Cleopatra the Alchemist, one of the four women who knew how to make the philosopher's stone), a Horcrux is antithetical to life. It represents disorder, and once the creator of Horcruxes dies, they are unable to move on from Limbo -- shut out of the cycle. Harry describes Tom’s mangled soul as looking like a flayed and mutilated baby -- permanently immature and stagnant.

This theme of destruction is furthered by the Golden Trio’s discussion on how to reverse the process:

Ron: "Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?"

Hermione: "Yes, but it would be excruciatingly painful."

Harry: "Why? How do you do it?"

Hermione: "Remorse. You've got to really feel what you've done. There’s a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can’t see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

With this in mind, we can surmise that Tom is either (a) impatient, which we know he is not (b) there was some deeper reason for favouring Horcruxes -- so, yes, I believe that either metaphorically or literally, this was self-harming behaviour.

He takes on the name of Lord Voldemort because he hates himself, Tom Marvolo Riddle. He hates the Muggle part of himself so much that he’s willing to tear apart his entire being.

"Voldemort, is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

If that isn’t renouncement of himself, I don’t know what is. He was clearly not born Voldemort.

While of course, this does NOT excuse ANY of his actions, I find it vastly implausible that the likes of Malfoy, Mulciber, Carrow, etc... would have been welcoming in any way, shape or form to an assumed ‘Mudblood’ in scruffy secondhand robes from a London orphanage, and as such, indoctrinated him into his fanatic belief in blood-purity via antagonizing him.

(Imagine Hermione, but poor and without parents, in the 1930s/40s. She would not have been treated well in Slytherin, either.)

Children are more vicious than you think. And while Tom probably gave as good as he got at Wool’s Orphanage (and was possibly an active aggressor himself), Hogwarts wouldn’t have been a level playing-field. (I’ll talk a bit about this and the significance of the Gaunt Ring in Part 2).

In other terms, I think Tom was bullied for having dubious origins. That’s often the swiftest way to radicalize someone, and would have left Tom with a crippling sense of self-hatred that I don’t think he would have even picked up from the orphanage.

(And it’s possibly this early experience with relational aggression that results in his constant need to be on the offensive/defensive, distrust of others, and fear of vulnerability. To me, this is an archetypal response of someone who was a past victim of bullying.)

Why else would an extremely powerful half-blood subscribe so strongly to those beliefs? (Rather than discriminating via amount of raw power or something -- because what Tom is immensely proud of when Dumbledore meets him is his ability, not his parentage). But I digress.

Now, Tom Riddle is never, ever quietly menacing like this. The mask is either completely on or completely off. We never see this character angry. Tom Riddle, when the mask slips off, is fury incarnate. Anger is the one emotion he doesn’t find weak; the one emotion he’s completely and utterly honest with.

Besides, that brings me to my next point. Tom’s not quite so austere. In fact, he’s quite witty, and often quite pleased with himself.

Just look at the difference in their body language. Tom has much more fluidity (he’s circling Harry, the head-tilt, the eyebrows move and he smiles a bit) than the other character, who has so much tension. Yes, they’re both menacing, but in completely different ways. Tom is comfortable with his actions, no matter how shitty they are. This other guy doesn’t like doing what he’s doing, but he’s going to do it, anyway.

Contrasted with the above, Tom’s unawareness of himself is such that we end up with a character who has a bizarre mix of extreme self-hatred and high self-esteem -- he always believes he is in the right -- in this case, doing Salazar Slytherin’s noble work -- while going to extreme, self-destructive lengths, such as tearing himself in half at the mere age of sixteen.

So, sorry... I kind of get the appeal, but... I don’t like the fancast.

(More unpopular opinions coming at 5:30 PM EDT tomorrow!)

#tom riddle #the many faces of #tom marvolo riddle #character analysis #character study #tom hughes #unpopular opinion #i am so getting cancelled #look i spent actual time trying to get those two gifs on the same line but it just wasn't happening #they line up if you make your window narrower #tw: mention of self-harm

123 notes · View notes

v3nusaphr0d1t3 · 3 years

Text

i’m in love with a stripper

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: mature warnings: strip club environment, suggestive themes (no actual smut tho) gender neutral stripper!reader x hawks. afab implied but can be read either way.

your job was to look good, feel bad, and entertain. in the most literal sense.

life as an ‘exotic dancer’ wasn’t nearly as glamorous as movies and shit made it out to be. your body ached constantly, you had nearly fought about 4 people in the past two weeks, and you came home in the morning smelling like alcohol and sweat and some random cologne. the pay wasn’t amazing on its own, so you had to rut yourself against old men to pay your rent.

and yet, it was addicting in a way you couldn’t exactly explain. you had wanted to work in the entertainment industry since you were little, a star up on the big screen. this was sort-of similar. you had eyes on you at all times, and it was your job to put on a great show. but instead of red-carpets it was party favors and gross back-room carpeting.

it was good workout, and you knew you looked good enough to taste, so that was always a plus. tonight, you were all dolled up, one of your more femme looks. your shorts were riding low on your hips, yet still stopped so high on your legs that it could be considered more of a belt than a pair of shorts. your thong straps framed your hips, bright red in comparison to the blue jean shorts. you had a red bikini top on, and a crop top that was yet again just another shred of fabric framing it. your shoes were red and tall enough to make you feel like you were on top of the world.

you had gotten used to the sashay and drama of all the bullshit presentation, perfected your sultry stare, and polished your pole skills. yes, you could use work. but so could everyone, it was an art that you were still constantly trying to learn more about.

so as you walked your way out on stage on a busy friday night, you could tell that tonight would be a good tip night. first off, there was MUCH more security than normal, which meant that someone important was probably in attendance for some kind of ‘special night’. they got bachelor parties and birthday parties all the time, but usually they weren’t this… guarded?

it was strange, but you instead focused on feelings the rhythm in your bones as you strutted your way up to the pole, starting to go into one of your choreographed routines that you knew like the back of your hand. though you supposed you could throw in some more risky moves, for whoever was currently paying for your console gaming subscription. being in the air was always exhilarating, but you were always worried about flashing too much. you knew that it would happen eventually, but you would still prefer for it not to.

you spun too fast on your way down and got that wobbling feeling in your stomach as your heels hit the stage a bit too hard to be ‘graceful’. oh well, you thought as you moved to the more floor-based part of your routine. you brought your hands up, running them over your body and pulling at your crop top, pulling it off and throwing it further back on the stage to be retrieved when you were done with your set.

you made it slow, teasing, swaying your hips to the beat of the song and running your hands back down, under the strings of your thong to snap them against your hips. it was effective, but it was hard not to wince in annoyance. you were too salty to do this shit. it was a lucky thing that you were so good at acting. you slid further onto your knees, back arched as you looked some random guy that was halfway decent and crawled forward. that was something that always racked in tips. it made folks feel engaged with the whole experience. the guy held up a 20 and you stuck it under your thong strap, moving to collect more of the money that had been thrown at you.

you were honest with yourself when you said you loved the attention that this job brought. there were many people out in the crowd that wanted you, that sat in their chair or stood amongst the sweaty crowd with a white-knucked grip and lust in their eyes, and you ate it up. you loved being wanted, it was one of the worlds wonders.

eventually, you finished your set, hair tousled from flipping it, back of your knees and your hands sore from gripping the pole, but ultimately you felt invigorated. energized. like someone had wound you up like a toy. and now you had to pounce on someone in hopes of attention and the money you needed to buy that new game you had been saving up for. comical.

you could tell a bunch of the dancers were anticipating the party that was in tonight. it was obvious they were important, and important people had money. so the dancers that weren’t on the stage currently were prowling around the VIP area, looking to advertise themselves.

you decided to do the charity work and tend to the rest of the forgotten crowd. you knew from experience that eventually the richer guests would get tired of giving their money away and eventually leave. and the rest of the crowd was just sitting there, so you slipped your way in to the seats that were closer to the stage (shitty stripper etiquette, but some of thesen dancers were fuckin’ shady sometimes) and found some dude who looked wimpy enough to play the whole deity act with.

you walked your way around the chair, placing your hands on his shoulders and beginning to rub them, your hand making it’s way down his chest as you whispered a greeting in his ear. you used your other hand to run through his hair, plucking the bill in his hand out of his hand and into your g string on your hip with the rest of them. you moved back around the chair and plopped down on his lap, feigning interest and asking him about his day, making him feel special with the whole shebang. you eventually were able to make quiet some money from that guy, surprisingly. and you left him alone and unsatisfied when the lights dimmed between sets.

now, to find someone else out of sight of the first guy. you were on your way to do that when something caught your eye. a glimmer of gold, no- not metal, someones eyes. you were momentarily mesmerized before you realized that the person attached to those honey irises was staring at you. at you. from the VIP booth. while you were in the middle of the crowd. you were never flustered, so it was new when you felt a heat in your cheeks.

you quickly put your act back on, throwing him a wink. he made a ‘come here’ motion with his finger, but you gave him a playful grin and a little teasing wave of dismissal. you had no idea what came over you to do that, but you decided to stick with this little ‘hard-to-get’ persona, and you disappeared into the crowd.

not 10 minutes later you were grinding on some guy through your shorts, just to work that 50 out of his hand. he was one of the assholes that would promise and never give. it was hypocritical for you to think that way, you supposed, but it was your job. either way, you got it from him by nosing up his neck (too much cologne) and giggling in his ear. and he put the bill in your g-string himself. gross.

you slid away from him between sets like you always did, and once again felt the heat of eyes on you. this was different, however. it wasn’t like the usual eyes on you, the gazes you had grown to crave and expect. this was predatory. you were being watched like a hawk. you spun around to find him staring at you again, this time split off from his little friends and instead sitting in a chair further back from the stage. he gave you a certain look and raised his hand, waving a bill in his hand. like bait! that was hotter than it should have been.

still, decided to make your way over to him, stopping in front of his chair, towering over him in your platform heels as he sat in the chair. he didn’t seem too physically imposing, but his energy was cockier than shit and you could tell he was bulked up. you usually didn’t fuck with these types, but something about him was just magnetic. it was insane. he leaned back in his chair, obviously insinuating that he wanted the same treatment as the others. you instead took a singular finger and raised his chin up to meet his eyes as they ran you up and down.

and that was when you realized, under the dim lights, that you were a complete and total idiot. you hadn’t even realize that the man in front of you was hawks, number two pro hero and the man too fast for his own good. you tried not to make a face, but you knew he could most definitely see in your eyes the minute you put the puzzle pieces together. what the fuck was he doing in a place like this?

“what the fuck is someone like you doing in a place like this?” you asked, coming out of your mouth before you could really stop yourself. he only chuckled, grinning as you felt his jaw tense against your finger. the main reason you didn’t recognize him is because there was a lack of giant red wings.

“what anyone else is tryin’ to do. have a good time! it’s my friends birthday, i have a life outside work, you know?” his voice was barely heard over the pounding of the music and the bass rattling under your feet.

“what about your reputation? i’m surprised there isn’t a line to gag on your dick at this point,” you held no filter in speaking to him. you never had it with anyone else, really, and what was so special about him? he was just another dude in the club, so you did what you always did and slid into his lap, pressing your bodies together in all the ways you knew did the best. you watched something flash in his eyes as he bit his lip for a moment. he looked back up to meet your eyes again.

“well, how long did it take you to recognize me? and you’re sober, aren’t you?” hawks brought a sculpted arm up to wrap around your waist, and you slapped it away as you worked your hips against his to the beat.

“no comment. and no touching, unless you want to pay for that too.”

“i might just have to. what’s your name, gorgeous?” his face was too smug for a man who could buy the building, yet completely in the the eye of the public had a semi hard-on for a stranger in some daisy dukes.

“i don’t know, what’s yours?” you asked, raising your eyebrow. you didn’t know his real name, no one did. it was a mystery highly speculated about online, not that you checked or anything.

“fair enough, fair enough. pick one before i blow a couple hundred on getting free roam to touch you.” he said, rolling his hips up to meet yours. this shocked you, catching your breath, and you knew he had noticed by the shit-eating grin he wore.

you gave him your stripper name. it was sufficient enough to add another layer of mystery, because even though you were in his lap, you wanted to keep up this game of cat and mouse. predator and prey.

the thought of that made you tingle. you told him your rates, and he forked it over quite a fuckin’ bit. you stood up from where you were sat in his lap (thought the loss was more upsetting than you would care to admit). you took his wrist (his hand was big) and started to drag him back to one of the more secluded areas.

you had to pass the VIP area to do that, and when you did, you heard a shout. it scared the shit out of you for starters, but hawks seemed to recognize the voice. it was coming from a woman with white hair and rabbit ears, currently cheering hawks on.

“fuckin’ get some, dude!” she said, and her voice was strangely familiar as hawks flashed an award-winning grin and a thumbs up. you winked at her and pulled hawks on with you.

you pulled him into a pseudo-room in the back. not cut off by doors, but isolated and split off by room dividers. you pushed him back onto one of the booth-like seats lining the wall.

the music was quieter back here, and it was easier to hear yourself think. the lights were dim and the bass was still thumping through the floor. there was no one back here, just you and him.

“ ‘kay, so i’m technically not supposed to let you touch me, but you just paid for my groceries and they don’t really check the cameras here. also, you’re cute.” you rambled off, more genuine and clearer now that the music wasn’t so intense in the middle of the madness. and then, catching the beat, you started your ministrations, rolling your hips against his and hearing his breath catch as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders.

“so i’ve been told,” he says with a shit-eating grin.

“don’t let it go to your head, princess.” you said, and he didn’t reply, too focused on oogling you.

his hands came up to hold your waist, and he put his effort into moving along with you, and his grinding did not go unnoticed. or unappreciated, for that matter. with his hips at your waist, he raked his thumbs under your thong straps and snaps them against your hips like you had earlier. it earns a breathy chuckle from you as you watched his pupils pin. you pulled back, standing and watching his face sour as his hands were pulled from your waist. but you decided to give him a little show, just ‘cuz you had a case of the hots for him and the way he was looking at you was much appreciated.

you now stood in front of him, towering above him as you toyed with the waistband of your daisy dukes. he simply bit his lip, practically eye-fucking you. it was exhilarating. you enjoyed the lustful gazes from customers, but this was on a different level. you felt truly alive, and yet like you were melting all the same. your insides felt gooey but you kept your perfected expression hard, movements practiced, sex appeal seasoned to flawlessness. and now you unbuttoned your shorts, pulling them down to reveal your bright red thong, hips, legs and torso all one long line. he looked at you like dinner and you were fucking living for it.

you kneeled inbetween his legs, laying your head on one of his thighs in the way you knew drove people crazy.

you heard a small “god damn,” exit his mouth as he looked at you, entranced as you caught his t-shirt on your way up his body with your teeth, pulling it up and dropping it back down, promptly standing up to slide backwards into his lap. you roll your ass where you know it’s appreciated and hear his breathing speed up behind you. you can practically hear his heart pounding to match your own, like a drum to the beat. your body laid down the bass, your eyes were the melody and he was drowning.

and when it was all over, poor guy walked out of the club with his fellow semi-disguised pro-heros with a raging hard on.

and later on, when you were pulling all your money out to count it, you caught a piece of paper rolled up along a $100 bill. it was his number. a pro-hero gave you his number. that was risky, especially in the type of place they were in.

you liked the risk he took. you put his number in your phone.

#hawks #bnha hawks #bnha x reader #bnha x gn reader #hawks x reader #hawks x gn reader #takami keigo #keigo x reader #keigo x gn reader

64 notes · View notes

kiridarling · 3 years

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈, 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈, 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 (𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄)

denki kaminari | escort!denki, f!reader, choking (m!recieving), tongue piercing, face-sitting, switchy themes, but he's on top in the end. minors dni!

— 2.4k words

"Look at you, drooling all over the pillow. I make you feel that good, Sweetheart?"

"Ever had an escort, Cutie?"

The electric blond pulls the belt to his silk robe and it runs off his shoulders like water. The diamond choker with CHARGEBOLT embezzled in gold glistens under the red lights of the private room, and you couldn't feel more out of place.

"I’m going to put this nicely," you run your lips together—as if it isn't painfully obvious, written in the way you shift from foot to foot and fiddle with your thumbs in the doorway. "I don’t want to be here."

Frankly, your friends set you up for this stupid thing. Something about you needing to get out more. If you’re going to be completely honest, you wish the owner of CLUB 777 would get off her high horse and shut this whole loud place down for good—it's disturbing your peace more than you could ever hope for it to.

Chargebolt—you assume—watches you fumble nevertheless, because fucking sue you, he’s wearing nothing but a very tight pair of tighty whities that are colored a simple black instead of white (not shorts—there’s no way in hell those are shorts). His freckled shoulders glisten gold with glittery body lotion, and part of you wonders if he tastes as good as he looks. Fuck. This.

"C'mere, Cutie," Chargebolt beckons you with a curled finger, and you finally figure fuck it. You’re already here and paid for. Once you're close enough, he pulls you down using your chin and cocks his head to the side, canary eyes flickering to your lips. He hums. "You look much better up close."

You try to repress a shiver. It doesn't really work.

"Well?" He says with a smile, "Don't you wanna kiss me?"

You gnaw on your bottom lip, eyes shooting to his. You kind of want to.

"Need me to make the first move, Gorgeous?" Chargebolt purrs, and your teeth dig deeper into your lip as you nod with a frustrated blush. He's nearly smiling against your lips anyways.

Chargebolt kisses hot and fast—lips lighting your body on fire as it sends frissons of electricity up your spine. You find the confidence to push back with something a little stronger, headier—and it has him wantonly moaning into your mouth.

"Fuck," he breathes against your lips as you pull away. You're both out of breath and you're positive you've kissed his lips deep pink, but you suppose that could be the makeup. "You're a better kisser than you look, Cutie."

You narrow your eyes. "Is that an insult?"

Chargebolt chuckles, turning to properly face you on the bed. "It's a compliment."

With that, lips hips are on you again, and so are his hands—grabbing yours to guide them over his glittering chest and to his waist, where he leaves them and flings his arms around your shoulders.

He curses when you trail wet kisses down his neck, teeth nipping in the spots that make his thighs jump. You're sure you're not allowed to leave hickeys so you don't, and it's hard not to get tipsy off the way he trembles underneath you, especially when your thumb pops under the waistband on his boxers.

"Is this—um," you swallow hard. "Is this okay?"

Chargebolt snorts, raising an eyebrow at your sudden shyness and gesturing to exactly where you both are right now and...touché.

With that, you run your hand over his slowly hardening cock through the cotton material. The electric blond nearly recoils, hissing at the sudden move.

"O-Oh," Chargebolt shudders, bucking against your hand. You muffle a grin in favor of grinding your hand a little harder, giggling at his lidded eyes and haggard breath. He pouts as you grip his hipbone to keep it from moving—you want him to take what you give him, and nothing else. "Can't you—can't you at least press a little harder?"

When you shake your head, the electric blond chucks his head back in a groan. The choker around his neck gleams under the neon red lights, which prompts you to place your hand to the back of his neck and tug. His canary eyes round and roll to the back of his head.

"I nee—Can I have you on me?"

Though you're doing all the work, his chest rises and falls with a pant. You climb into his lap with resignation and Chargebolt groans when your clothed cunt drags over him.

"Fuck, just like that Sweetheart," his head lolls to rest on his right shoulder, elbows propped in the pillows before his upper body drops in favor of putting guiding hands around your waist. You hold onto his shoulders for balance as he tugs your hips forwards, though it's not like it helps much. This time, instead of pulling on his choker, you wrap your hand around his neck and though it doesn't wrap all the way around, Chargebolt's breath still hitches under your palm.

"Harder," he wheezes past your grasp. You tighten for Chargebolt to release a broken moan under the pressure and his hips buck so hard they nearly send you flying off his chest.

"Watch it," you say, though it's breathier than you'd like. The sight of him getting worked up pumps your blood faster than you feel like it should, and you find yourself squinting through the light to see if that really is a blush you see dusting his cheeks.

"Right—right sorry," the electric blond rasps once you finally let go of his throat. Licking his lips, his eyes dart to where you're connected before he's pleading, "Can I fuck you? Please?"

"Yeah," you say without hesitation, and Chargebolt guides you over his face, eyes blow wide with lust and desperation. He groans softly at the sight of you splayed over him, hiking up your dress and pulling your panties aside to run a finger through your slit.

"You're soaked, Gorgeous," Chargebolt says, borderline giddy, and you shiver as he flicks your clit, biting his lip. "I might have to make a quick detour."

"I don't like the way you phrased that," you grouse towards the ceiling, and Chargebolt chuckles before adjusting between your legs until his breath ghosts your cunt. It's not until he licks a fat stripe up your slit that you understand how completely and utterly fucked you are, grabbing onto the bedframe in consternation as the cool metal ball sliding between your folds to make you squeal.

He has a tongue piercing.

Chargebolt plunges two fingers into your pussy and you suppress the embarrassment creeping up your neck at how easy the slide is. If your friends told you where you'd be this evening, you wouldn't have wasted all that time masturbating in the shower this morning.

"Ah, ah," Chargebolt tsks when he feels your thighs tense around his head. "You gotta relax for me, remember? Or else I can't make you feel good."

"I'm—" you try, but there's no point in trying to deny it though, is there? "Fuck, fine. I'm trying."

"No, you're not," Chargebolt quips with a giggle and you nearly slap him across the face. You would've done something if he didn't grab you by the hips, wrap his sinfully plush lips around your clit and suck, pulling an eep from the very base of your throat.

"Relax," he moans into your cunt, and when you try to look away he snakes a hand up your chest to seize you by the jaw. You huff but keep eye-contact—mostly because his hand doesn't leave your chin—and he bites into your inner thigh with a groan, making your thighs tense for another reason that isn't stress.

"There you go," he coos, sliding a third finger in with the two others he works into your sopping cunt. You finally start to "relax" or whatever, chest shuddering as hot arousal floods your veins. "Atta girl."

You whimper at that, grabbing a hold of his hair and grinding against his face. Chargebolt takes every motion in stride, grinning against your wetness with the acknowledgment that he's the one making you feel this good. "Just lie back and let me make this pretty pussy feel good, yeah?"

His lips return to nurse your clit as his three fingers fill you up the best they can. And they do it well, scissoring and sliding between your pliable walls to make you keen. Chargebolt plays your body like a fiddle, making you sing sounds you didn't even know you could make.

"I—can you fuck me now?" You say once your body starts to quiver, head spinning with the steady build-up in your core. "I wan—wanna cum on your cock."

Chargebolt groans at that and doesn't hesitate in pulling away with glossy lips, fingers soaked in a white gooey mess. He rubs it into the sheet and you flush at the mess you made.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck you?" He challenges with a raised eyebrow and the cockiest fucking grin. The only reason why you don't bite is in favor of cock.

"Yes, asshole."

Okay. Maybe you'll bite a little.

But you seem to have little to no repercussions as he rolls you into the sheets and hikes your knees up to your chest (er—as far as they'll go) and you grapple for the sheets as he slowly pushes inside, teeth digging into your bottom lip at the painful pleasure.

"Oh, you're gonna kill me, Cutie," he nearly wheezes as he bottoms out, and you squat due to being so full after...however long it's been.

"F-Fuck," you quiver, and Chargebolt's thumb press bruises into your hipbones.

"Can I—can I move? He pants, eyes full of so much hope it'd be comical if you weren't so down bad.

"Y-Yeah," you nod, shivering when he already starts to move. "Yeah, please—"

Chargebolt wastes no time in picking up the pace. His thrusts are sharp and face, hips hammering into your warmth, and you find yourself bouncing each time your hips connect.

"Fucking moan for me, Gorgeous," he grunts as if you aren't loud enough already, and your fingers scramble for his choker so you can watch his eyes roll to the back of his head like they did earlier. It earns you the loveliest broken moan and your lazy lips slide into a fucked out grin.

Pressing his thumb on your bottom lip, Chargebolt pries it open in favor of seizing your tongue and pressing it flat to your chin. His throat produces the most disgusting sound before his lips purse and he's spitting down your gullet with a feral grin, chuckling when you swallow without him needing to do so.

"Good girl," Chargebolt thrusts cease for a moment if only to return tenfold. "Good fucking girl—"

You watch his eyebrows furrow in concentration, sweat making the gold on his shoulders shine and the access glitter on your own chest. As he plows you into the bed, he drops a thumb to rub your clit; you move your legs around his back and tug on his choker again.

"Oh fuck," Chargebolt's eyebrows furrow as the new position only buries him deeper. "Look at you, drooling all over the pillow. I make you feel that good, Sweetheart?"

Your moan gets cut short when he delivers a sharp slap to your ass, cursing when you tighten around him in surprise. You don't have the energy to wipe the drool away nor to be embarrassed about it, and Chargebolt decides he likes you like this much better.

"Who knew you were such a submissive little thing, huh? Coming in here and barking orders—if I hadn't known any better, I'd think you were a top."

The way he says it is mokcing enough to make your blood boil, and you grit your teeth to growl, "I am a top."

"Really?" Chargebolt pants, face twisted in faux confusion. "Cause you look like you enjoy being under me a little too much."

You curse because not only is he right, but you're close—and painfully so. You figure he can tell just by looking at your reaction, and his spit-glossed lips slide into a cocky grin."

"Admit it, Gorgeous—you fucking love taking this cock, don't you?" He growls visage morphing into something more feral as his hips gain inhumane speed.

"I—" you start with a gasp, but Chargebolt's hips slow down in a threat and you dig red lines into his back as you say, "Yeah—yes, Chargebolt pleas—"

"Denki," he edits, and clarifies as your face twists in confusion, "Call me—call me Denki."

"I'm gonna cum, Denki," you let out a broken moan, thighs burning from the position in the best way. Denki groans, keeling over you with furrowed eyebrows as his thumb returns to your clit to push you off the edge.

"Fuck, say it again Pretty," he pants, pink tongue darting to wet his lips, "Say my name again."

Your chest shudders with an impending orgasm. Denki falls first, with a breathy groan and stuttering hips, arms wobbling in threat of collapsing. The sight of him riding on cloud nine prompts your own ecstasy, forcing your body upright as your orgasm steals your breath and wracks through your bones like an earthquake.

Denki rides both of your orgasms out, his cock twitching inside your spend little walls until his hips connect with yours for a final time.

"Holy shit," Denki wheezes a laugh after a silence spent catching your breaths. "You—Has anyone ever told you you're a good fuck?"

“I—“ you take a step back from his statement with a blink, body spent and sweaty on the bed. “I don’t fuck...often?”

Denki’s eyes bulge before he’s shaking his head with a click of his tongue, “Issa shame.”

“If this is your way of recruiting me as an escort, the answer’s no,” you deadpan towards the ceiling. It takes the electric blond a moment to react, but when he does, he’s dropping his head with a snort.

“I—no, I wasn’t recruiting you or whatever you wanna call it,” he chuckles, assuming the space to your right. Even though your skin is on fucking fire, for some reason you don’t mind.

“But I do...” Denki starts, and you have to nudge his shoulder for him to finish. He shakes you off with a chuckle and scrunch of his nose, before finally saying:

“But I do...wanna keep you around.”

#— 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 #CLUB 777 #denki smut #bnha smut #mha smut #kaminari smut

531 notes · View notes

humanlighthouse · 3 years

Note

hello i am here and i have heihua kiss prompts!! either 8. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand. (+bonus if hurt/comfort!) or 23. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating. xoxo

Hello friend!! I went with the second prompt, you will notice a theme in there perhaps :D I hope you like it! This was cross-posted here for better readability~

__________

For their young master’s birthday celebration, the Xie clan went all out, as was expected.

It was a grandiose event, with only the finest of culinary delicacies, the prettiest of dancers, and the best of everything that could be drunk. Everyone of importance in the antiques and less-legally-acquired antiques business was there, in black tie - or almost everyone. Xie Yuchen’s smile never quite reached his eyes but he shook sweaty palm after sweaty palm and posed for the required photos with a level of patience that should honestly count toward his general karma. Thankfully, by midnight, the young master was deemed properly toasted to, fed and celebrated, and the guests bid their goodbyes at last.

Xie Yuchen closed his bedroom door behind him and rested his forehead against the wood panel.

Here’s to another year.

Shrugging off his jacket, he walked into his closet. His own face stared at him from three different angles as he loosened his tie. He wasn’t tired yet, but he should probably change anyway. He crossed the room toward his pajama closet, looking for something comfortable. There had been enough showing off for one night, so he pushed aside the silk co-ords. Maybe the velvet robe. He took it off the hanger, running a manicured hand over the fabric. No. Too hot for the season. He dropped it on a chair. When he turned back toward the closet, he noticed a midnight blue sleeve peeking out from behind where the robe had hung, in the darkest part of the closet. His only hoodie.

There was an idea.

He stared at it for a long moment, before grabbing the garment and shrugging it on over his dress shirt and wool-blend pants. He swapped his leather shoes for crepe-soled boots and turned the lights off.

Less than five minutes later, he exited the manor, having successfully avoided every single person in it. He had had to duck behind a vase at some point so a maid didn’t see him, and for the first time that evening, he had laughed, albeit silently. There would be no real consequences, no consequences at all, even, if he was found out, but it was exciting to sneak out. He snapped a face mask onto his ears, checked again that he hadn’t been spotted, and walked down the street and away from the gates.

As he walked, Xie Yuchen wrestled his phone out of his pants pocket. With the ease of habit, he created a throwaway account, and then pulled up the webpage of his favorite fast food place. The closest one would be too suspicious - he had been there only last month. Selecting the next one over, he submitted his order and paid. By the time he arrived, his number was first on the list, and a greasy bag of treats awaited him.

This restaurant was farther from his house but closer to the river. It was warm enough, that evening, that groups were scattered here and there along the riverside. Xie Yuchen found one empty spot with a decently clean bench to sit on, and dug into the bag.

The city lights twinkled over the water’s surface, ever changing - stop lights turning red and green and red again, car blinkers sparkling to life, office neons buzzing in the distance. There were people laughing nearby. He listened to what he could of their inept conversation as he chewed, salt and fat heavy on his tongue. Usually he would be annoyed at the forced proximity, at the unwanted company of these strangers sharing beers and laughs, but not tonight, for some reason.

Still, it was better to be alone after the night he’d had. Enough socialization for one day. Even after an entire burger and most of a large serving of fries, he didn’t have the energy to keep up the usual pretense. Maybe if he was there with a friend it would be different, but he didn’t have that many of those. Wu Xie certainly counted as one, but according to the birthday card he had sent, he was off raiding a secret spot in the South with his boyfriends this week and wouldn’t be back for a while. Xie Yuchen hoped it was code for something else. At least one of them would be having fun tonight.

He finished the fries and crumpled the greasy paper, throwing it back into the mostly empty bag. The only thing left was what he had been looking forward to: a tub of soft-serve ice cream doused with an extra helping of chocolate fudge. He rummaged around the bag for the plastic spoon and popped open the container, inhaling the sweet scent with a smile of anticipated delight. That would almost make up for tonight.

He carefully chose the ratio of chocolate to ice. That first spoonful was always the best one. He brought it to his mouth and closed his eyes. The fudge melted onto his tongue, vanilla ice cream following right behind, hot then cold, and delicious. He couldn’t help but let out a small moan.

“That good, uh?”

Long legs folded beside his on the bench and for one short second Xiao Hua was tempted to throw the ice cream tub into the river and pretend this never happened.

It was too late. Hei Xiazi had seen him, and he would never let him live this down now.

Oh sure, the man had seen him in more compromising situations, technically speaking, but from the way he smiled at Xie Yuchen’s face, Xie Yuchen knew that his guilt was obvious. He was screwed. Hei Xiazi had just hit blackmailing gold.

“Gimme a taste if it’s that good,” he asked with a jerk of his chin toward Xie Yuchen’s ice cream.

Xie Yuchen frowned and moved the tub away from him. He had expected a few days of grace before the demands started, at least.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in return.

The man’s attire was ridiculous, even by his low standards. Under his usual leather jacket, the one he always wore, the one Xie Yuchen could recognize the stink of from miles away, he wore a tank top and a black polyester tie, haphazardly tied around nothing and dangling well under his belt. He looked like a cheap gigolo. Maybe that was his new side gig. Xie Yuchen made a mental note to inquire about that.

“Well, you see, I was on my way to wish a friend a happy birthday, maybe a little later than I should have, admittedly, but what’s a little night visit between friends? Except, what should I see when I arrive at their home, but a shady silhouette sneaking out of it! Very suspicious, you’ll admit. I felt that it was my duty to make sure that the interloper was properly identified.”

“What bullshit are you sprouting now?” asked Xie Yuchen, eyes narrowed.

“I followed you,” replied Hei Xiazi with a satisfied smile.

“No you didn’t.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I checked. You ran into me here by pure chance and extrapolated the rest,” he guessed.

The smile fell from Hei Xiazi’s face, but the humor stayed in his voice.

“Yeah, okay I did.”

Xie Yuchen huffed a laugh and turned back to his ice cream before it melted.

“I really was on my way to you, though,” continued Hei Xiazi. “Look, I even have a gift and all.”

When he turned, Xie Yuchen found himself faced with a brightly patterned square. The gift wasn’t badly wrapped, Hei Xiazi’s fingers were certainly skilled enough for it, but it had been done with the tackiest paper Xie Yuchen had ever seen. There had been plenty of gifts at the party earlier, covered in gold-embroidered fabrics and satin, tucked into leather boxes and glossy bags, but this was the first that Xie Yuchen had wanted to open all night. It was the only one of those that seemed … heartfelt.

He quickly ate another spoonful of ice cream instead. It was probably just another joke.

“What’s in it?” he asked after a minute.

Hei Xiazi was still holding it out to him, and probably would until he relented. Sighing, Xie Yuchen took the package.

“Open it later.”

At the strangeness of his voice, Xie Yuchen raised his head and looked at Hei Xiazi. The lights were playing on his face, and with those stupid glasses he could never be sure of anything, but it almost looked like he was blushing. The man was looking toward the river, not at him, so Xie Yuchen allowed himself to stare.

In his hand, the ice cream tub was cold and slightly wet with condensation, and the sweetness of chocolate remained in his mouth. There were still people laughing nearby, in riotous bursts, but he found that he didn’t envy them anymore.

It was his birthday, and Xie Yuchen was going to celebrate it the way he wanted.

“Hey,” he called.

With a hum, Hei Xiazi turned, just enough for Xie Yuchen to grab his face and kiss him. He startled but didn’t pull away, rather turned his head aside to deepen the kiss, hands curling around Xie Yuchen’s waist and into his hair. His clever tongue swiped at Xie Yuchen’s lips and he licked into his mouth when they opened.

“Wow, you were right,” he exclaimed when they broke for air. “That is good ice cream!”

With a roll of his eyes, Xie Yuchen handed the tub to him. It was a day to indulge in guilty pleasures, it seemed.

#heihua #kiss prompts #my fics

44 notes · View notes

dindooku · 3 years

Text

ao3 - loulou1810

you hesitated, knowing there was no other way around this. he could just look you up on the holocomputer. your name would be top of the list. and he’ll, you were in a max prison security unit, so using petty crime wouldn’t cut it either.

you’d have to tell him, be honest. that’s the honourable thing to do, right?

tw - contains violence, suggestive themes and flashbacks of sexual assault/rape

word count: 5,040

____

His chair slowly turned to face you. The child was sat comfortably in his lap playing with a small silver ball, completely entranced by its chrome.

“Is that it?” He scoffed back with a slight hiccup of a laugh. “Me too, why’d they lock you up there? Bit overkill?”

“Yeah…” You drifted, wondering whether you should tell the truth. “I was captured about 2 years ago…” You start, gauging his reaction to see whether he actually wanted to know. He sat up and fixed his gaze to you, signalling that he was listening and for you to continue. You dropped your head, eyes now transfixed on the loose piece of thread you were wrapping around your fingers,

“Well, I was captured. I was originally what you could call a hit-man for the Republic. I’d worked for them consistently for around 8 years. They used me to hunt down and dispose of Ex-Empire politicians and War Lords, but one mission went south and I was drugged. I was then sold to a high-class underground fighting ring, they’d implanted some sort of control chip which meant they could stop me from lashing out or protesting. They could make me do whatever they wanted…” you paused.

This part of the memory was particularly painful. “They didn’t just use me for fighting,” There were so many hidden meanings and stories hidden there, stories you’ve hidden away and not even bared to think about yourself. They’re too painful, just thinking about it felt like daggers were being slowly pushed into your skull, “One customer had let their name loose during…” Your breath hitched, tears now pricking your eyes as the trauma replayed vividly in-front of your eyes, again and again. You close your eyes so that Mando can’t see how much this has affected you. “I committed the name to memory. During one fight I heard that name again. I saw them in the crowd and something in me just snapped, I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. As soon as I’d dealt with my opponent I sent a knife straight through his skull.” The memory was clear as day now and just as callous.

The extravagant curtains draped the room. Rows of black leather chairs lined the arena, circling around the central ring. The lights were dim, a subtle red stained the multicultural onlookers in a bloodied mood lighting. This was a highly prestigious place, only the highest-ranking officials and galactic influencers could witness this fight… this was obvious from the lavish guest attire. Some coated greedily in gold, others jewels and crystals. Normally you’d be dismayed by the lavish beauty of it all, but not today. You were fighting for your life against one of your more difficult opponents. They were at least 3 times your size, chiselled from pure warrior muscle, wielding a heavy battle-axe which was decorated with the bones of their previous wins. You’d given them a run for your money the whole fight, slowly chipping away at their ego with your double-edged Phrik knives. These were the only weapons you needed. Despite this, you weren’t yourself in this moment. Your targets unbeknownst to you were sat peacefully in the viewing box. Your thoughts were painful, the weight of the constant torture and manipulation had worn you thin, you were on your last tether. Despite the chip stopping you from resisting, your soul was ripping that connection from you with every punch, kick and slice. ‘This is your purpose, do it’ swirled your mind in a violent tempest. The words tortured you, controlling every cell in your body.

And then you heard it, their name. You glanced towards its direction. They were right there, in front of you, taunting you with their presence. ‘Complete the mission. Do what you have trained to do. Feed that temptation ’. You’d had enough. As if timed moved slower now, you slid under the belly of your opponent, grabbing their ankle you kicked yourself up, swinging onto their back. You planted a knife into the nape of their neck, twisting it to make sure. As they fell forwards you used the momentum to jump, launching your other knife over the barrier and into the viewing box. It left your fingers before you could control it, before you could stop yourself. The next few seconds felt like a lifetime that day. The confused agony not leaving their face until you’d dropped to of view. You’d watched their face as they realised what had happened. The synthetic mind that had been forced into you left the moment the knife did, and the weight of that kill latched onto your soul.

“The synthetic consciousness left with the knife. What I didn’t know is that they were a high ranking Republican political official, and you can piece the puzzle from there. That was that. It was over for me”

You could feel his rage. This had angered him more than you. You didn’t dare say a thing. You fiddled harder with the fabric in your fingers now, the anxiety was suffocating you and you didn’t know what to do. You knew that what the officer did to you was wrong, illegal. But the way you’d been treated afterwards was what stung. You were the dirty criminal, they were a war hero. It didn’t take long for them to convince you that you were crazy, that you were a psychopath.

This guilt would carry you to the grave, maybe even push you in.

“If it wasn’t your choi-… if it was synthetic, why’d they lock you up? You were kidnapped and manipulated.” The question fair, and exactly the same question that had eaten away at you ever since they sentenced you. You were taken, held hostage, abused and tortured. Your body became a toy, something for them to release their anger and lustful cravings on. The pain they slowly incited within you only made things easier for them, more enjoyable, they fed off your hate. You tried to cut your emotions, but what they did to you was unforgivable, sadistic. They used your emotions against you, like Lori said would happen. By the time their use for you came around you were an empty shell, stripped bare. They implanted you, and with the flip of a switch, you were their puppet.

“My kidnappers implanted a chip into my brain. They could control me when they wanted, on and off like a droid. It was an old hijacked Clone Wars tech. They only had one use for me, making money. Once I’d done their bidding for them, they’d turn it off. After the incident though, they destroyed the switch along with the evidence. I was classed as insane. The Republic arrested me and took me in. That's how I ended up in the transporter. I was Disposable”

The last word rang your ears, it was driven into you from the start. No one had any attachments to you, no one. You were nothing. A credit without currency. An object.

The sigh that left your body felt like it took the last remaining pieces of your soul. Your tears relenting now, a nervous response to the rehashed trauma. You’d thought about it until your mind was raw. No matter how hard you reasoned with your conscience, you couldn’t shake the guilt. It was your fault, you knew it. You wished that you hadn’t thrown that knife, that you’d had more self-control and restraint. Deep down though, there was no other reason, you killed them, no one else. You, you’re the sick psycho.

“So they can’t control you anymore?” It was low, quiet. You knew he was trying to understand how it all worked, it was confusing even to you, and you weren’t the best at explaining things either.

“I don’t think so, they said they’d destroyed the controller,” You told yourself that they couldn’t control you like they did then, not anymore. But you couldn’t deny the power they still held over you. The way they’d manipulated, engraved their domination into you meant that you’d do anything they’d say out of fear. They were the only people you feared. You couldn’t face that pain again, and you knew resisting would only lead to torture. Out here in this ship, flying through hyperspace… they had no grip here, you were away from them, free.

He seemed uneasy, and you thought it was because he suspected that you could just turn on him at the flick of a switch. You were sure that they’d destroyed it. They’d not used it since…

“Would you like a job?” Out of everything you thought that he was going to say, you really could not have ever thought he’d be asking to employ you. You darted your eyes up, the confusion on your face was almost painful. Completely speechless. He elaborated, “I need someone to look after the Kid” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You’d just told this guy that you were a top-ranking assassin and now he wants to employ you as his babysitter?

“Are you having a laugh?” Is all you could say, chuckling as the words left your mouth. You’d never dealt with kids. You had no idea what you were doing. Mando seemed to be doing fine, why did he need you?

“Why, what makes you think that?” He sounds confused now. He shifts his head back a bit, his back straightening. He really did not know why this was all so confusing…

“You want me…me?” you point to your chest, emphasising your concern “of all people, you want me to look after the Child? Did you listen to a word I just said?”

“Yeah. You’re overqualified. Exactly what I’m looking for.” Right, this is odd. You pinch yourself, are you really awake. Have you somehow died or is this some messed up dream?

“I don’t understand?” You curt back, arms now folded in an aggressive manner. You weren’t up for being played around.

“I need someone who can protect the Child, you said you were trained and that’s obvious, I saw the way you moved from me in the cell, how you came away unscathed from Xian” He was right. You started to see what he was getting at, and despite agreeing that you could quite comfortably be the Childs personal bodyguard, you couldn’t deny the fact you had no idea how to look after a Child in the first place.

“I have no idea how to look after a Child…”

“Neither do I, we can figure it out together” He looked down to check on the kid. He was in a whole other galaxy, completely amiss to the tense situation happening just in front of him, the chrome ball his only concern. Mando’s gaze held for a moment, you assumed to weigh up all the possibilities of what he was offering. He turned back to you.

“You can call me Mando” And with that, he left the cockpit to put his weapons away in the main hull. You glanced at the child’s beaming toothy grin as he was carried away. You were frozen. That was it. You’d just bagged yourself a job.

___

He watched you, eyes bearing into your back as you assessed what was now going to be your new home…if you could even call it that. He handed you a small bag of clothes, some black long sleeve t-shirt’s that were way too big for you, some trousers and toiletries. The gesture was appreciated. You placed it down next to the metal slab of a pull-out bed… Damn, it is what is. You scold yourself, you’ve never had luxury, why do you expect it now? Maybe the promise of freedom was sweeter than it actually was. He nods for you to follow him out of the room.

He shows you the fresher, which is small but practical. Next, the carbonite freezer, explaining briefly that this is where his bounties go. Then, he pointed to his cabin, making it explicitly clear not to enter or open it unless he says so, even in emergencies. You thought it was odd but then it clicked as to why, and so you let the question die before it surfaced.

You’ve heard the stories of Mandalorian’s, how they’re the fiercest warriors in the galaxy. You’d read books about the battles, the power that ran through their blood. Through your job, you’d come across a few who posed as Mandalorian's but were never real. They wore the armour for protection and style, never out of honour. But with the way this guy acted, spoke and had some sort of attachment issues to his armour… you sussed he was the real deal. Xian even said the doesn’t take it off during…stop.

_____

A few days had passed now and Mando was getting more and more agitated. You’d stopped off at a small spaceport on a remote planet to gather more supplies and fuel.

You walked together through the market. He’d given you a small bag of credits so that you could get some spare clothes, toiletries and anything else you’d need for your stay on the Razor Crest. It wasn’t much but was enough to tide you over. You couldn’t complain, you had no money so it was better than nothing. You made sure to say thanks as you walked out the ship, following just behind him.

The market was a bit overwhelming at first, but once you’d realised that no one was out to get you you settled down. Mando walked in front, the Kid sat up in his pod, watching the people go about their lives. You noticed that people were making extra effort to stay out of his way, turning to whisper to others as you passed. He stuck out like a sore thumb wearing all that armour, but he didn’t seem to care. It certainly made traversing the busy streets a lot easier. You also found that you got things for a lot cheaper too, he’d stand just over your shoulder each time you went to a stall. The owner would give you the biggest smile whilst simultaneously trying not to anger the armoured chrome bucket behind you.

You found one stall that sold a bazaar range of things, from cutlery to footwear. But what caught your eye was the small Orback toy sat over in the far corner. It was perfect for the kid, it’d keep him distracted and it meant that Mando might get the silver chrome ball back. You asked for the price, not bothering to haggle the shopkeeper. Once you’d paid for it he handed it over and you placed it straight into the Childs hands. He looked it over for a second, confused at what you were giving him. He soon realised and the noise he made melted your heart, he was ecstatic. Waving it around in the air you grabbed the silver ball and handed it to Mando. He nodded at you, then glanced at the now screaming child who was what looked like laying down the law to his new friend.

After a while, the distance between you and Mando got closer and closer until there came a point where your arms were practically nudging one-another with each stride. You didn’t mind the contact, it was nice actually. Even in the busy streets, you felt like the only one there, his presence looming and protective. As the streets got busier you started to get antsy, you’re now scanning for possible threats. You didn’t want to slip up on your first day on the job, first impressions count. Mando could sense your tension and tried to soothe you by resting a hand onto the small of your back as you were walking. It brought your attention away from the dark alleyway and the rooftops and right into his touch. It paid off and you were instantly calmer. You said thanks through a small smile, which still hadn’t left your face whilst you were packing your stuff away back on the ship.

“We have to go somewhere, to pick up someone. I know you’re skilled in fighting, more than many I’ve seen” The compliment lands short as he continues, “The Child has a bounty and he isn’t safe until we take out the root cause. I'm going to need your help with this, is that ok?”

“Yes… for the Child, anything” He stared at you for a second. You guessed it was so he could read your face, ensure that you were ok with what he was asking of you. If it meant that the Child would be safe, then you’d do it. You know it was now your job, but over the few days you’ve been part of his crew, the Child has grown on you, incredibly. He’s already taught you so much, things you never thought you’d learn, and you’re grateful to the Child for that. Even though he can’t talk, he still finds ways to communicate warmth and hope. You don’t like to admit it but he is growing on you…a lot. He nodded and then left for the cockpit, firing up the engines and directing the ship out of the port. You turned away, walking back to your room.

__________

You wake screaming, the torture of your nightmare gripping your neck vindictively, suffocating you, dragging you into the depths of your mind that you never want to re-visit. You’re screaming but its broken, bloodied, hurt. You’re sat upright now, gripping your neck as you find release, the door to your cabin swinging open. He rushes in, quickly scanning the room for the cause, only to set his eyes on you and realise the root of the problem. He slows, just a small space between the both of you now, his helm still checking to ensure there’s no physical harm causing your pain.

You struggle to catch your breath, still clutching at your throat. The dried tears coating your cheeks, your eyes glint off of the ships dimmed lights. The extend of your struggle was shown in the reflection of his Beskar suit, the physical strain pertinent around your neck, the grip you’d been holding was enough to kill.

You were still struggling to breathe but were completely conscious now. Mando reached out a hand to your shoulder, trying to soothe you, “Breathe” He looks again to triple check the child isn’t doing any crazy magic as he had woken in a fit of tears too.

You quickly turn to look at him, your breathing still hoarse. The physical contact cutting through your mind and bringing you to now. Your eyes search for his. The black visor stared back. It’s probably good that you can’t see his face, as its currently slightly torn at the physical wound you’d inflicted to yourself in your sleep. His eyes scan the rest of your body, gazing at your arms which are now bare, the sleeves of the black-top he had given you were now rolled up. They’re riddled with scars of different shapes and sizes, but obvious. He glanced to your neck again, the edges of some pointed out from under the neck of the tee, some raised, some etched, some burned.

“Sorry for startling you…I…” The embarrassment starting to set in now you’ve absorbed the situation.

“The Child woke in tears too, and then I heard you screaming. Cara’s looking after him now”.

You furrow your brows at the new information. The Child too? Was he connected to your dream somehow? Or did the feeling transfer… you wouldn’t know, just acknowledging the connection and leaving it at that.

“Yeah… I was confused too…” he’d noticed the coincidence too, “We’ve got a busy day ahead of us. You should start getting ready soon.”

All this information was starting to rack your brain, the sleepy haze in your mind making it difficult to focus. Then you remembered.

The last week had been a blur. You’d picked up some reinforcements for the mission. First, an ex-shock trooper who went by the name Cara, the tattoo was one of the first things you noticed. She wore it proudly. Cara seemed nice enough even though Mando had told her your backstory, she understood. Her eyes had seen the horror of manipulation too. She knew pain, death. You doubt she’d excuse what you did, but it seemed as though she’d done her fair share and maybe call it even. You’d made small conversation with her and it seemed that you could trust her, you hoped that she’d trust you too.

And then Kuill, now he was sweet. A kind, older Ugnuaght who had served the Empire. He’d done his time. Like you, he was forced to do something he didn’t want to do. The similarity between you two was silently acknowledged, he knew your pain, wanting to fight back but not being able to. He always spoke to you with soft words. You remember his admission with clarity. A day or so after picking him and his Bluurgs up, Mando and Cara were discussing the plan in the cockpit. You were sat in the corner of the hull, entertaining the Child, rolling the chrome ball back and forth along the floor. Kuill strolled up to you, holding your shoulder, bringing your attention from the Child to him.

“I too know the pain of Capitulation. I served my time, and now I work for no one. My soul is free. You are changed now, your punishment dealt. Make good of your life now it is yours. I have spoken.”

You didn’t know what to say but you knew that was exactly what you needed to hear. You’d never had kinder words spoken. It was bittersweet, but a lifeline nonetheless.

“I don’t know exactly how things will turn out so it’s probably best we prepare for anything” he admits, fear hidden in the admission somewhere. “I have asked Kuill to look after the Child along with IG. You’ll come with me and Cara to sort the problem. To finish this.”

Your head turns to the small Ugnaught now standing in the doorway, Cara to his side holding the Child. You nod politely to them, slightly embarrassed at how they were seeing you. The Child coos, his arms outstretched to his Dad. Cara walks into your room to give Mando the child, he coos again, this time more assertive. Cara tries to hand him over to Mando but he’s blubbering louder now, his arms are now outstretched to you. You sit up properly at the realisation. Mando nods to Cara, giving her silent permission to hand the Child to you. They both watch as you and the Child babble, his hand grabbing around your finger.

The connection warms you. He’s telling you through the only way he knows how that he’s ok, and that you should be too. He exudes calmness, soothing your mind to level with his. You smile at him, silently thanking him for his unique comfort. He nods back with a coo, head-turning towards Mando. He looks back at you with a toothy grin, releasing your finger then making grabby gestures to Mando. You smile to yourself as you watch Mando pick up the Child and leave, resting him in his right arm. Mando’s head was tilted towards the Child as if to ask what all the fuss was about. Cara watches them leave then turns to you.

“Hey,” She says calmly, sitting to perch on the side of your bed.

“Hey, I'm sorry if I interrupted you, I didn’t mean to-” She cuts you off.

“Don't apologise, it’s ok, we all have bad dreams sometimes” She sports a small smile, letting you know she understands. You smile back. It’s nice to have another girl on the ship, you feel like you can open up to Cara a bit more than you can with Mando. You maintain the small smile, showing your sincerity. “The kid seems to really like you” She chuckles, showing a couple of teeth. She’s right, you both got along really well. You’d not known the Child for long but you were already smitten, the toothy grin got you every time.

“Thank you, Cara.” You don’t know what else to say. The simple reply is soft, thanking. You really did appreciate her care.

“Don’t thank me, you’re the one that can make that little womp-rat smile. I’ve tried and he just… anyway. We’re not far out now. You should get ready”

You both exchange a small smile, it's sweet. You know you can trust Cara now.

___

The doors to the weapons locker opened and you couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping in awe. There was enough to form a small army! Does this guy have a thing for weapons or what? He reaches out and grabs a blaster. It’s exquisitely crafted, the mahogany wood polished to within an inch of its life. Once securing it in his belt, he reaches out again, grabbing two leather sheaths. Turning, he hands them to you. You put them on, one of them sits on your right thigh, the other sits just under your binder and rests under your shirt. You look up at him, his visor pinning you in place.

“I took you as a knives person” He deadpans, handing you two combat knives. Yeah, true, he’d read you like a book. You loved close combat, the thrill of it was always your favourite. You hated your past but you did have to admit, you enjoyed the hunt, it felt like fighting was what you were made to do. You drop your gaze to the knives. They’re pleasing to the eye. You’d not seen anything like it, the metal had waves to it, like an ocean. You traced a finger up one end of the blade, the sharpness of them tantalising, “Beskar” he chimes. Goosebumps riddled you like a rash, you couldn’t hide the grin that found your face. You’d not had a nice pair of knives since you were taken, hostage. Looking back up to him you thank him, placing one in the thigh holster and the other in the holster on your chest. You felt more confident now, adrenaline starting to prickle your senses; your body was starting to prepare itself for what was to come.

He reaches in again, grabbing a small belt. It was rough and tatty, this must be an older belt he’d once used, the one he wore now was a lot sturdier and more practical. Turning back to you he hands it over. You hear a slight scraping sound, like metal on metal. Inspecting one of the two pouches attached to it you found it was full of little throwing knives. They weren’t the same material as the daggers he’d just given you, but still sharp nonetheless. The grin feverish once you’d placed the belt around your waist, it hung lower than you’d like but it was still practical. You tested the buckle to see if it’d release quickly, and to your amusement, it did. You look back up at Mando, grin now toothy like the kids. “Thanks, hopefully, I won’t have to use them”

“Don’t lie, we all know you want to,” he said jokingly. So he finds it funny now? His comment makes you glance down. He was right, you were looking forward to it. Guilt floods your cheeks and you blush, now coming to terms with how you’d been acting. You didn’t want them to think you wanted to fight. This mission needed to go as smoothly as possible, for the Kids sake. Now they just think you’re in it for the blood, great.

“I didn’t mean it like that…I…” He stutters on his words, now realising the meaning behind what he said.

“It’s ok, I get it” you mumble back, turning away to get your boots from your room. You don’t notice him turning his head back around, watching as you walk back into your cabin.

___

Trust Cara to be carrying the biggest blaster from the locker. She’s all muscle that girl, and she knew it too. A blaster that size would look stupid if you tried to use it, you’re not even sure you could even lift it. Cara made it look like it was second nature, each to their own.

“Let me do the talking,” says Mando. Him? Do the talking? Is he having a laugh? The guy can barely hold a conversation, and now he thinks he’s some negotiating mastermind. You let it slide though, he is a Mandalorian at the end of the day, the armour does most of the talking for him. “Kuill, are the Bluurgs ready?”

“Yes. Someone will have to walk, I only have three” he says back to Mando, back turned as he’s fixing the final bits of equipment to the Bluurgs.

“I’ll walk,” you say, you’re the odd one out at the end of the day. You want to make a good impression, and you thought that a decent walk wouldn’t do you harm. You’ve not had a chance to properly stretch your legs in too long.

“You sure? It’s a fair way?” Cara asks back, she’s genuine.

“Yeah, I need to stretch my legs, let me lend a favour” you smile back. You really did want them to trust you, and you thought this is the least you can do to show your appreciation for their kindness over the last few days.

“If you get tired then you tell me,” Mando commands. There's no room for if’s or but’s, he means it.

You pull a sneaky grin, the temptation to say it was just too much, you can give in this once, right? You pick your next words very carefully but use the most seductive tone you could. It's just a bit of fun…

“Yes, Sir”

Cara chokes out a shocked laugh. You turn to her, she’s pulling her eyebrows up and down in a suggestive manner. I'm glad that landed well… You laugh back as you both follow Kuill out of the ship to the Bluurgs, her elbow nudging your arm in a jokey way. You both continue giggling, not noticing the now slightly flustered Mandalorian.

Notes:

Hope u guys enjoy this chapter! the next couple chapters are quite action-driven as they follow the original arc, but I'm a few chapters ahead and let me tell you... is it getting hot in here?;)

#the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #din needs a hug #angry din #fanfic series #mando x reader #mando.exe has stopped working

55 notes · View notes

nadisabug · 4 years

Text

Fictober 2020-Day 8

Hung Over You

Prompt: "I'm not doing that again."

Fandom: Harry Potter Pairing: George Weasley x reader Warnings: mentions of alcohol, language, and slightly nsfw themes A/N: Another one for my boy George because who doesn’t love the Weasley boys? This one was so much fun to write, I love oblivious boys. And boy is this boy oblivious... you’ll see ;) hope you enjoy guys!

BTW, the reader’s house is not mentioned, but I wrote it thinking of a Slytherin reader. However! It can really be any house.

I opened my eyes to probably the worst headache in somebody's life.

Not mine, though, because I'd felt this bad many times over. All because of my horrible drinking habits.

I groaned and rolled onto my side, curling into the fetal position.

"And the sleeping beauty awakens," a far too chipper voice called out to me.

I didn't feel like gracing his snarky comment with a response, so I ignored it. Instead I tried pushing myself up to a sitting position, which I immediately regretted. Waves of nausea rolled over me, knocking me back down to the bed.

"Woah, princess, be careful." Suddenly he was at my side, helping me back onto my pillows. I halfheartedly swatted at him, but the blow didn't land. "Well that was pathetic," he chuckled, presumably at my lame attempt to beat him off of me.

"Piss off George," I slurred. "I don't need a babysitter."

Now to be completely honest, I actually did want his stupid gorgeous face near me. He was the reason I drank myself into this stupor. Yesterday was the big Quidditch game, and after Gryffindor won, they held a magnificent party for the winning team. Of course, all the girls were fawning over the undeniably handsome beater and his brother, so I drank to take my mind off of it. Getting buzzed seemed to be the only way to get over my fascination with him, but I knew in reality it only made it worse. Part of the reason why I got so wasted is because I knew George would be there to take care of me, even if it meant nothing. It always meant nothing. Just like it meant nothing to him the night he kissed me, over two months ago at another party.

"Yes you do," he laughed and I hated how much I adored the sound. "Here, drink this," he said and held a vial to my lips. I complied and downed it, knowing it was probably a hangover potion Hermione, his little brother's friend, brewed for him. Well, for him to give to me I suppose.

After I finished it, I flopped back onto the pillows and waited for it to kick in. After about five minutes I felt a hell of a lot better. I finally opened my eyes and took in my surroundings. Everything was so red and gold, the decor quite gaudy if you asked me.

"Am I in the Gryffindor dorms?" I asked out of confusion. Usually when I woke up I was in the common room of my house.

"Yes, in my bed too," George said. I looked at him and scrunched my eyebrows together.

"Where did you sleep?"

George laughed. "That's your first question? I slept on the floor. I could have taken Freddie's bed, seeing as he slept over in some Gryffindor girl's room," George paused to comically shudder at the thought, "but I was too worried that you might choke on your own vomit while you slept."

"Sexy," I rolled my eyes and tried to sit up again. This time I was successful, with only a slight increase of the throbbing in my head. I crossed my legs and put my elbows in my lap, head in my hands. "Aw, fuck," I murmured. "I am not doing that again."

"We both know that's not true," George said, this time without his usual laughter.

"Yeah you're right." I forced a smile and got up out of his bed, no longer able to stand the alluring scent of him now that I had finally noticed it. The bed reeked of him in an all-too-good way.

"Why do you do this?" He finally asked, stopping in front of me.

I looked up at him and, fuck. He looked so good in the morning. His hair was all over the place, a tousled mess of a bed head. He had thin dark lines under his eyes from not sleeping - presumably my fault - but even despite that he still looked gorgeous. I had to force myself not to stare at his lips. Would that be too obvious? Well, what could be more obvious than snogging him in the common room, I thought to myself.

"Like you care," I rolled my eyes so that I would stop staring at him.

"I do!" He responded angrily taking another step towards me.

"Well not in the right way!" I yelled at him before I could stop myself. Once I realized what I had said, all the blood drained from my face. I quickly spun around and began searching for my things. I spotted my purse on the night stand and snatched it up. I presumed my phone and wand would be in there but I didn't want to stay to find out.

"What does that mean?" George said softly.

I ignored him and bolted to the door. However, George got there first and blocked my path. Curse those long, sexy legs.

"Y/n, what does that mean?" He asked again more persistent.

At this point, I couldn't stop the tears from prickling at my eyes. I was probably more emotional because of my hangover, but I am sure I would have cried regardless.

I looked up at him with watery eyes and glared. "You know exactly what it means."

"Y/n, I'm sorr-"

"I am too," I said and tried to push past him, but he caught my arms and held me firm.

"No Y/n you're not listening. I'm sorry for being a pussy and a dumb git."

His statement made me freeze. I looked up at him in confusion and the look on his face almost shattered my heart.

"I'm sorry for not telling you how I feel, but in my defense how was I supposed to know?"

"How were you supposed to know?" I exploded. "How about when I stuck my tongue down your throat?"

George blinked for a second. "You remember that?"

"Of course I do!" I was sobbing at this point, the bottled up frustration too much for me to bear. "I confess all my feelings, you kiss me, then you act like none of it happened the next day!"

"I thought you were drunk!"

"Well, yeah of course I was. There's no way I would have told you I've liked you since I first saw you if I wasn't at least a little fucked up."

"So... you actually... meant it..."

I couldn't stop myself from rolling my eyes. "Yes I did. Now will you please let me leave so that I can go jump off the Astronomy Tower."

"Not before I do," he groaned and slumped against the door, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm such an idiot."

"We established that," I sighed. "Now can I-"

I wasn't able to finish my sentence because before I could, George's lips met mine in a ravenous kiss. It took me a moment to realize what was happening, but once I did, I caved and began kissing him back. His hands wrapped around my lower back and I slid my hands into his messy hair. I tugged on it to pull him closer and licked his bottom lip. In response, he leaned down, grasped my ass, and lifted me up. Out of pure instinct and because of the adrenaline coursing through my body I wrapped my legs around his waist. He spun us around and pressed me into the door.

We made out until we both couldn't breathe and we parted, panting. It took us a moment to compose ourselves, me still wrapped around him.

"I wouldn't mind doing that again," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Only if you'll date me."

"You drive a hard bargain," he declared in what I could only guess was his impression of an American salesman.

I slapped his chest and glared at him.

"Ouch," he winced, but quickly regained his smile. "Ok, sure."

I rolled my eyes, but I knew that was the best I was going to get. Despite how hot George was, he still was an awkward jokester at heart. And I loved him for it.

So I kissed him again.

#fictober2020 #fictober20 #george weasley x reader #george weasley #Harry Potter #x reader

74 notes · View notes