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gaysindistress · 1 year

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Sad Girl

summary: James has an interesting new business’ proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

warnings: cursing... for now

word count: 1.8k

authors note: This is my first time posting so please let me know if you want to rest of this series!

series masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

Angry foot steps stomp through the large hallways and up the marble stairway. Raised voices try to alert the others that she is coming and is fuming. She waves a manicured hand above her head, telling them to shut the fuck up before she takes her anger out on them. Her heels nearly crack the marble as Scott trails after her, trying to get her to slow down.

“Ma’am please stop,” he gasps, lot of breath from chasing her through the foyer.

She stops, taking a deep breath, and turns to look down at him. The diamond “S” of her necklace swings as the pearls and chain barely leave her skin. Her hair nearly whips Scott from the force of her turn.

“Oh Scott it’s too late to reason with me. I’m already seeing red so why don’t you be a good boy and open that door before I tear it down,” she says eerily clam, pointing to the door in question at the top of the staircase.

“I… I can’t do that,” he stutters.

Her black french tips rub the headache coming on as she closes her eyes, “Yes, yes you can. Now go.”

The movement from her arm causes her black outercoat to open slightly and the holster with its accompanying gun flashes every so slightly. Scott’s eyes go straight to it, knowing that she would never pull it on him but the men she’s after are an entirely different question. Scott just nods, climbing the stairs around her as he curses himself for taking this job and dealing with such horrible people.

Once he reaches the door, he gives it a heavy push causing the room to go silent at the intrusion. There is a large oak desk towards the back of the room, crowded by men who all look the same. The head of the family is sitting behind the desk in an even larger throne-like chair, two giants at his sides. The men doing business with him are lounging in the oversized chairs in front of the desk. They too have men flanking their sides as if to say “fuck around and find out”. A woman typing feverishly at a computer is the corner and doesn’t even look at Scott because her job is not stop typing no matter what happens. The room also houses two couches and a coffee table for the “easier” business dealings, at least that’s what the family head says.

Scott makes eye contact with the head, “she’s here and pissed.”

The head just nods and gestures to one of his side men. He starts to say something to him when the woman in question slides behind Scott, one hand on his shoulder and the other on her hip.

“Hello, Dad.”

He smiles, “Hello, Darling. We were just finishing up.”

She lets out a sinister laugh, “Like hell you were. Did you really thing you could get away with doing all of this shit without me present?”

She gently pushes Scott out of the room, shutting the door in his face before walking towards the bar her father had installed to fuel his drinking habit. Grabbing 4 glasses and an amber bottle, she makes her way to the desk, not saying a word as if to dare any of the men to utter something. She pours a drink for each glass and hands her dad a glass.

“You know you’re not supposed to be involved in all of this,” her dad states as he takes the glass and leans back in his throne.

Ignoring her dad, she turns to the men and gestures towards the glass, silently saying “go one and take one”.

“You know you aren’t supposed to offer your daughter up as collateral when you fuck up a business deal,” she offers over her shoulder as she takes a sip from her glass, leaning against the desk, “now which one of you fools actually agreed to this deal?”

The brunette is watching her and taking in every detail she has to offer, willing and accidentally. The blonde sits up a bit straighter and readjusts his suit jacket under his overcoat.

“No one has agreed to anything yet, Miss. Stark,” the blonde says, crossing his hands in his lap. His watch peaks out from under his sleeve, shining under the natural light from the window. A slight glint bounces of his finger and she makes note of the pinky signet ring he wears.

“Darling we were just about to sign the papers, so if you could leave that would be great,” Mr. Stark’s voice is growing slightly impatient at his daughter’s invading presence.

“Don’t you want your business partner to see what prize he won for saving your ass, dad?” the last word is meant to land like a dagger in his heart but his unbothered face proves it does little to change his mind.

“Don’t you think they might want an inspection? You know to make sure their new property isn’t damaged,” she sneers as she sets her glass and down and begins to take off her overcoat.

“I’m sure they would love to make sure there are any structural flaws that would render their property useless,” she continues to shed her blazer, leaving her with her holster and v neck blouse. Her necklaces are now shining in all of their glory from the sun and the gun strapped to her ribcage makes everyone stand on high alert.

“Stop,” is the single word that leaves Mr. Stark’s lips and now the impatience is growing to the surface.

The men to his side step forward when they spot her gun and the men behind her step closer to their bosses. The blonde and brunette share a look as they both chuckle under their breath at the display of defiance and anger.

“You are not property so stop referring to yourself as a real estate transaction.”

The gun is pulled from the holster as she slips the holster off and tosses it on the desk beside her jackets. She points the revolver at her dad’s forehead as she shakes her head.

“Then don’t treat me like I am one. I am your daughter so start showing me some respect and call of this deal.”

“Doll put the gun down,” the brunette says from behind her.

“Doll?” she questions as she drops the revolver and turns to look at him, “Don’t call me by some pet name, Barnes. Use my name if you really want to talk to me or did you forget what it was considering you’re too dim witted to see what that contract actually entails.”

A shift in the air around her causes her to look to her right as the blonde takes the revolver from her hand and sets it on the desk. He towers over her, looking down as he scans her face.

“We already made the necessary changes, Miss. Stark. I can assure you James and I are well aware of what we are getting ourselves into. Is there something you might want to add?” he says to her and her only.

She scoffs at his pretend nice attitude and goes to push him away but his hand pins hers to his chest.

“Do you want to make any changes?” he whispers again, blue eyes boring holes into her eyes.

“Yeah take me out of it,” she whispers back and rips her hand from his.

“Wanda!” the woman typing looks up at the sound of her name, “I have one thing that I want to add. If he harms me in any way, I reserve the right to cut his dick off, leave and nothing happens to my family.”

The blonde continues to watch the enigma of a woman in front of him as she tries her hardest to not shot her father, him, and everyone else in this room.

“Define harm,” Wanda asks, still typing.

“If he lays a hand on me, breaths wrong, looks at me wrong, says something I don’t like, anything that I don’t like,” she replies and pushes past the blonde to steal his chair.

The blonde chuckles again when it’s his turn to lean against the desk and glance between his friend and her.

“She’s gonna be a real handful,” James states as he stands, “can we sign the papers and get out of here?”

Confusion flashes across the woman’s face for a second but it returns to her resting bitch face.

Mr. Stark nods his head, handing James a pen as the blonde slides out of his way for him to sign the contract.

“Um excuse me? Why the fuck are you signing?” she questions, pointing a finger at Barnes, “Isn’t Rogers the one my dad made the deal with?”

James takes a look at her before going back to finish signing the papers in front of him. Rogers, the blonde, hands back her hostler, blazer, and overcoat before speaking, “James and I both made a deal with your dad. In exchange for our protection and resources, we will receive a portion of his earnings from Stark Industries. For extra reassurance that he wouldn’t cross us, he gave me his vibranium supplier and he gave you to James.”

Silence fills the room. She stares daggers at Rogers, slicing her way to Barnes before settling her knives on her father.

“You gave me up instead of some other supplier?” she nearly screamed at her father as the two men at his side quickly grab her by the arms. All sense of self preservation and elegance has left her body as she thrashes in their hands and desperately tries to keep her sobs in.

“You chose a fucking supplier relationship over me?”

Mr. Stark ignores her as he signs his name and passes the papers off to Rogers. He shakes James’ and Rogers’ hands before stalking his way towards his daughter.

“You are my daughter so start fucking acting like it. You knew this was going to be your life when I found you begging on my door step. If you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at your mother for leaving you for drugs,” he whispers through clenched teeth into her ear.

Her eyes had welled up with tears but her father’s words freeze her, only one escaping down her cheek. Mr. Stark makes a motion with her hand and the men release her on unsteady feet. She stumbles forward into her father’s arms.

He wipes the tear away, pulls her into a death grip hug and soothes her hair down as he whispers in her ear again, “James is the lesser of two evils. He won’t hurt you if you play the part. You know I wouldn’t let any undeserving harm come to you. Now go pack a bag and get ready to leave with him.”

He pulls away, keeping her at arm’s length and pretends to check over her as a good father would if his babygirl was upset. All she does, all she can do is nod, pick up her dropped jackets, and walk out of the room. All eyes are on her as the head strong façade crumbles in front of them, leaving behind the frightened little girl she really is.

#mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sad girl - bucky barnes #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes #mob au

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miametropolis · 1 month

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My condolences for the containment breach I get how having thousands of ppl say the same joke over and over in the notes of your genuine analysis post can get annoying 😭 😭😭😭 I’m extremely down to hear more about the differences between the ninth and tenth doctors if you have any other insights you want to share though!!! I’ve been turning your post over and over in my brain like a rotisserie chicken ever since I read it it’s so good

omg thank you for your condolences...it really is the containment breach of all time...let me think!! I have a MAJOR tenth doctor video essay I may or may not make so here are the cliff notes:

-To begin. Anne Carson wrote that to live beyond the end of your myth is a perilous thing.

-in many ways, the 10th Doctor is cursed from his inception b/c he is born at the end of the Doctor and Rose's romantic arc (from a certain point of view) AND YET he is born sheerly out of love for her / to love her

-(we all know the fanon--or is it canon?--idea that Ten's face was subconciously selected to be one that Rose would like, and he's gone for her from the beginning...hello, The Christmas Invasion.)

-all that said, by the time The Parting of the Ways occurs, Rose and Nine have completed a full narrative arc:

-Nine whisked Rose away from the life of boredom and sheltered drudgery she experienced on the estate; she brought life back into the eyes of a hardened war veteran/The Last of the Time Lords

-more importantly, they complete a kind of mutualistic ultimate sacrifice (in a Shakesperian sense?) wherein Rose 'becomes' the Doctor by absorbing the literal heart of the TARDIS (we don't have time to get into that) and erasing the Daleks into dust, finishing the last of the Time War AND saving the Doctor's life

-he immediately returns the favor, absorbing the energy that's destroying her with a kiss (let it be known--the ONLY kiss between the Doctor and Rose Tyler proper--neither Tentoo or Cassandra really count imo), returning her to humanity, life, and safety

-all that said, Nine dies both saving AND being saved by Rose in a kind of unrivaled (?) parity between Doctor and companion. it's perfect synthesis.

-THEN 10 is born. uh-oh.

It is here that I would like to quote Michael Kinnucan's fabulous essay 'The Gods Show Up' on Greek tragedies:

The tragic hero is complete. You can call him unhappy (miserable, utterly broken) even before he is dead. For an instant he is something like divine. And then he dies, because there’s nothing left to do. The center of every tragedy is the image of a human being who has already died but keeps talking, someone whose face is a mask.

I think one of the most fascinating 10 v. 9 moments is that one scene that got cut where Rose says "I miss him." and the Doctor replies "Me too."

As many people in the notes of that original post point out (god help me) 10 is ALSO born IMMEDIATELY into heartbreak--whatever vestigal version of Nine lives inside him died with the despair of losing Rose

-TEN is the man that went sauntering away. perhaps that's part of why Ten is so terrified of/resentful towards regeneration. I think he's lived precisely the worst cost of it.

-The notion of 'talking after death' and 'wearing a face that's a mask' is a existentialist take on regeneration itself--ten EPITOMIZES this tragic hero archetype, esp. after Doomsday (literally! Doomsday!!)

-during his life, I wonder if Nine already considers himself lost in a sense? He's lived past the Time War, past the destruction of everything, and he's also the first NuWho Doctor. HIS ability to indulge in love (even in mortality, given his short lifespan) is different.

-TEN on the other hand has that INCREDIBLY frightening (for him) confrontation with Sarah Jane in School Reunion--knitting him back into canon continuum of Doctor Who, stitching him to the myth of The Doctor that has to live on and on and on in perpetuity--and seems VERY haunted by (im)mortality

-How much time does Ten spend running from Jack? A human being who CAN follow him to the end of time? Ten can't decide if he wants to be mortal or immortal, human or Time Lord. Think of the way he acts with Martha, with Wilf, with Donna. He is totally frozen inside of the space of his seasons. He has time paralysis (fatal, for a Time Lord)

-he is the first doctor that we see reallllly try to stave off regeneration

-That's why there's a certain frantic escapism to his adventures with Rose in S2--he knows, more than she does, that they are hurtling toward's disaster.

-he can't love Rose in a consumate way, even if he wanted to (he wants to) b/c he's trapped inside of his myth. he's like sisyphus. or that guy getting his liver ripped out by the eagle. Nine and Rose are lines that can cross. Ten and Rose are parallel lines. if they touch, the universe dissolves. hence why the narrative/God/Russel T. Davies had to lock her away in another universe

anways!

Ten once canonically carved a statue of Rose by hand with every inch of her body absolutely perfect, from memory, and I think that's crazy

#timepetals meta #timepetals #doctor who #doctor who meta #nuwho #rose tyler #tenrose #10th doctor #tenth doctor #the doctor #ninth doctor #9th doctor #ninerose #hope this is fun for you op!!! i also turn them around in my head like rotisserie chicken #or the very real dolls i had of them as a child that i brought to sleepaway camp and talked to #if you couldn't tell that i was that sort of person

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tsukimefuku · 3 months

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❅ Sand and Snow | Chapter 1

ALL CHAPTERS HERE.

In the city of Odate, Akita, there have been multiple deaths in the past few weeks. The first-grade sorcerer Nanami Kento is sent out to investigate the snowy city, not knowing that it would be his last mission as a Jujutsu High student. OR: Why Nanami left Jujutsu High to become a corporate 9/5 slave.

Images via @incepstla on Tumblr

DISCLAIMERS

* This is cross-posted from AO3, link here.

* This is a murder/mystery story. Like so, it contains depictions of violence that some readers may find disturbing.

* Classic Nanami and Gojo shenanigans will ensue. This is my copium.

* This fanfic is mostly built on original characters that are plot-centric (we need ppl to kill and to be questioned in a murder/mystery story, amiright?), though Nanami is the protagonist. There won't be any romance/smut/fluff/ship involved, but in case you don't like OC's at all, this story probably isn't suited for you.

* I wrote this in the most faithful way I could to JJK Canon and events, with the intention you could read this as an actual one-off light novel from the series (even inspired the writing on the translation from the official light novels). I hope you enjoy.

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

Chapter 1

Traveling alone became a common occurrence in Nanami's life ever since Haibara's death. More common still after his promotion — turning into a first-grade jujutsu sorcerer in his third year came with some perks, like a raise, for instance. But it also meant he would be frequently dealing with complex missions by himself. To fill up time, he was reading a pocket version of "The Devotion of Suspect X" by Keigo Higashino, as he drank a small and well brewed cup of coffee.

As Nanami approached his destination, he closed the book and started to mentally review the details of this mission. He anticipated it should take around a week for completion at most.

Around the city of Odate there had been 7 deaths, all containing traces of cursed energy. All involving poison. The presence of a cursed spirit was not out of the question, but considering the way those people died, a curse user was most likely. If that was the case, the curse user should be captured and taken in for questioning.

His phone rang. It was Yaga.

"Hello." he said, as he accepted the call.

"Nanami, be sure to report as soon as you get there, and report to me daily." Yaga replied.

"I will. Has something happened?"

"No, but those that sent this mission our way are very keen on accompanying every step taken." The contempt Yaga tried to hide in his voice was pretty clear.

"Fine. Let me know when and if Gojo is coming my way." The thought of meeting Satoru with his whimsical personality during a mission made Nanami involuntarily sigh.

Nanami was on his way to Odate because Jujutsu High's first choice, Satoru Gojo, was off on another mission that took longer than expected. This had been disclosed to Nanami right from the start. He would be there up until Gojo Satoru got to Odate or until he just finished the job by himself, whatever happened first.

He couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that they wanted to send Gojo, a special-grade sorcerer, on a mission suited for a first-grade, though. But dutiful as he was, Nanami simply did not spend his time questioning. Orders were orders, after all.

"About that… Gojo requested for you to work with him if you still haven't finished the job when he gets there.”

Nanami was annoyed.

"Why?"

"Who knows. He's always acting on a whim. Just accompany him. I have been told this is an important job, and you're the responsible one."

Nanami was annoyed, times two.

"Fine."

Getting “punished” with more work for being a good jujutsu sorcerer was the kind of thing that happened to him regularly. Not so different from a normal job. Nanami sighed and ended the call. There was now a pretty good incentive to get things done as fast as he could, and it didn't involve (just) overtime.

***

As the train came to a stop, the doors opened, letting a cold breeze seep in. I should get to the hotel and leave this luggage before I go out investigating, Nanami thought to himself, before stepping out and making his way onto the exit from the train station.

There were few to no taxis so early in the morning, so he just decided to walk. It wasn't terribly far, and it gave him the opportunity to look around the city for anything out of the ordinary along the way.

There were many snow sculptures by the roadside, and some ice figures resembling the Akita dog breed. At the end of February, Odate had many winter festivities, with a lot of Akita-dog related decor and souvenirs.

He had nothing against cold weather, but preferred the beach, ever so slightly.

Nanami picked up his phone and sent Yaga a text that said "I'm here. On my way to the hotel".

"Ok" Yaga replied instantly.

They must really be on his case, he thought, as it was out of character for Yaga to reply so fast. He usually had more things to deal with as the new Jujutsu High principal.

After an uneventful walk, Nanami got to the hotel and was greeted by a woman at the main desk.

"Good morning. My name is Yoko. How can I help you, sir?" She asked politely.

"I have a reservation."

"Perfectly. I need your full name."

"Nanami Kento."

The lady typed quietly on the keyboard, and around two minutes passed.

"Sorry, our systems are kind of slow today."

Nanami said nothing and just waited.

"Hey, Mr. Kento... Be careful."

That grabbed his attention. It was clearly not a threat, and the lady was visibly concerned, even though she tried to hide it.

"There have been some people dying these past few weeks. Somehow it hasn't made national news, and I can tell you're not from here. I mean, new face and all. So... Be careful, ok?"

"I appreciate your conce-"

"It was the majo!" someone shouted from the inside office. The lady got startled, and instantly irritated.

"Grandma, please stop with these silly superstitions!"

There were heavy and steady footsteps, and shortly after, an elderly woman came from the back office, raising a finger and pointing towards Nanami and Yoko.

"They are not superstitions. Hear me out! The majo, the witch, she did it!"

Yoko sighed and felt her third migraine of the week paying her a visit. Wednesday had barely started.

Nanami looked at her, as if asking for further explanation about what the old woman was talking about. She put on a cordial smile and started to speak.

"My grandmother has old superstitions about a woman that lives just outside the city. Her parents went missing when she and her brother were young, and they sell herbs and things like that. There is not much to it, but people in the city have had that long held superstition against their family for a while now."

Her smiling face and calm voice did not match the angry energy she was emanating.

The old woman interjected once again.

"Her parents went missing because she is a witch, and I bet you, these people dying must be related to all of that!"

The migraine had settled in.

"What 'all of that', grandma?"

The old lady gestured vaguely with her hands in the air, as if there was some obvious fact that everybody was unaware of.

The computer emitted a sound, and Yoko promptly grabbed a key and gave it to Nanami.

"Here. Room 409. If there is anything you need, you can just dial #903 for room service."

“Thank you. Excuse me.” he replied. As he started walking towards the stairs, it was possible to hear Yoko chastising her grandmother about scaring travelers and people she did not know. The words were followed by loud footsteps into the main office and a door being slammed.

As Nanami got to his room, he started texting Yaga.

NK: I'm at the hotel. There is a local superstition around a person whom they call “a witch”. I've been told this person deals with herbs and medicinal plants, so they probably also have poisonous ones. I will be checking this out before going elsewhere.

MY: Let me know if you find anything. Also, talk to Ijichi, he will assist you researching this.

After settling in, Nanami got out of the hotel and started walking down the street, intent on questioning people about it. He failed to notice the man following him from afar.

***

It was already two in the afternoon, and he figured he might as well stop and eat something for lunch. After all, expenses were completely paid for.

As Nanami went inside the restaurant, he went over mentally the information he got about the family.

The Yamadas were a pretty old family in that region, and most lived northwest of Odate. After the disappearance of some of the family's members, mainly a couple with two children, most relatives just left the city. Aside from that, there was not much else to be said about them. Nanami had already sent Ijichi all the details he was able to gather and asked for research as soon as possible.

His phone lit up. It was Ijichi.

KI: Hey, Nanami, I found some interesting things.

NK: Tell me.

KI: So, the Yamadas were a family of jujutsu sorcerers, it seems.

Nanami felt that was definitely suspicious, to say the least.

KI: Apparently, they had little to no ties to Master Tengen or anything. They were all from that region of Odate, but most of the members have since disbanded throughout Japan in the last 10 years. I couldn't find much in the archives, especially about cursed techniques that run in the family.

NK: I see. Let me know if you find anything else.

KI: No problem.

***

After some asking around, Nanami finally got to Yamada's “witch” house. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and a snow-covered dirt road led the way there through the woods. As he was approaching from the forest quietly, he could see a lady with short black hair and a pretty thick coat putting some food bowls by the side of the house. He didn't see or sense anything particularly suspicious. The house was considerably big, having two separate floors and a very traditional Japanese ceiling for snowy weather.

Not long after she put the bowls, the lady whistled loudly. A fox came out of the snowy forest and started eating.

"There you go, Haru. Eat well!" she said, as she went inside the house.

Nanami was unsure if he should go question the woman, or if he should simply stay hidden and watch for anything strange. After all, this could be nothing, or she could be a sorcerer that would attack him on sight. He chose the latter, and sat down near some bushes as he paid attention to the house and its apparently sole resident.

From the frosty windows, he could see her in the kitchen, sitting idly while drinking something from a cup. Behind the house, there was a greenhouse with many pots of plants and other greeneries planted directly on the soil.

This will take a long time, Nanami figured, feeling disheartened for having to work late that day. Resigned, he used his flip phone to take a picture of the house and waited. He got to see the fox finish its food and go back into the woods.

Around an hour later, there were some scratching sounds that he could not really see what was the source. The lady came out of the house, sprinting hastily to the other side, where Nanami was having a difficult time seeing her. He moved his position to try and see where she was headed, and walked quietly around from the opposite side in a semicircle, but she had vanished. The fox from earlier was there, looking directly at him.

He went into alert mode, but before he could do anything, Nanami felt somebody get behind him.

The sound of a gun being loaded could be heard, and he froze on the spot.

"Raise your hands. Who are you and why are you watching me?" a female voice asked.

"I'm someone investigating the deaths that have been occurring in Odate". He said, as he was lifting his hands and putting them on his head. Nanami figured there was not much of a point in lying. She didn't ask why he was there, but why he was watching her, so she probably had noticed it for a while. Also, if she was a curse user that wanted to harm him, she would've probably done so by now.

"Turn around."

He turned to face her.

She was pointing a small handgun at him, keeping her distance. Her green eyes seemed irritated. He could probably disarm her and further question the woman on the subject, but weighing his options, it felt more responsible to avoid conflict escalation.

"Look," she said, picking her words carefully. She sounded annoyed, but not scared. "I don't know what you've heard about me or this house, but I am not a witch, and I'll tell you what I already told the officer, I didn't kill anyone."

She examined his face.

"Why are you pointing a gun at me, then?" He asked.

"I'm a woman living alone in the woods, and a creep has been stalking me for god knows how long. Sorry if I chose to pull a gun first and ask questions later."

Both of them examined each other, and the air was tense. She seemed inclined to simply let him go, and his instinct was that she harbored no ill intent on hurting him out of anything other than self-defense. He decided to try to de-escalate the situation further.

"My name is Nanami Kento."

She was slightly taken aback, as she didn't expect him to present himself like that given the circumstances.

"I'm... Shiori. Yamada Shiori."

"I'd like to ask you some questions about these deaths. I'm a private investigator of sorts. Preferably without a firearm between us." Nanami said calmly.

She hesitated and examined him. Her instinct was that he was telling the truth. After a few seconds, her arm relaxed, and she put the gun down, then inside her coat.

"Ok. We can talk." Shiori said. "But I'm keeping the gun on me."

Nanami sighed as he lowered his arms. "Fair enough."

She pointed at the house. "And you go first."

They walked towards the house, and she unlocked the front door, letting him in. She indicated a table where he could sit, and pulled a chair for herself. Once both were seated, as Nanami was about to say something, she took a crystal ball from her other pocket.

"Here. Please hold this."

Nanami thought about it for a second, and held the ball in his hand. The small sphere started to glow blue after about 5 seconds. "Tsk", Shiori groaned, "Figures."

"Sorry, I don't understand."

"Where are you from? Kyoto?" She asked, grabbing the crystal from his hands. "Is this really about the deaths, or are you guys here to try to recruit me and my brother? He is away, just so you know."

Nanami was confused, and it must have shown.

"You're a jujutsu sorcerer, aren't you?" She asked. "Look." The crystal was glowing in her hands too. "This is my sort of 'jujutsu sorcerer detector'. The last time one of you came was a few years ago, so I'll just cut to the chase. I'm happy in the woods, and I don't want to go to Jujutsu High — I’m actually 18 now, and have just graduated. Please, leave me alone."

This was definitely not how Nanami expected this conversation to go, and he definitely did not expect to be dealing with cursed objects in Odate. After collecting his thoughts, Nanami started to speak.

"I'm here because of Jujutsu High, but I came from Tokyo on a mission regarding the deaths that have occurred recently. I questioned a few people and after some research, found that your family had sorcerers, and that you and your brother work with medicinal plants. Given the cause of those deaths was poisoning, I came to your house for further investigation." He answered bluntly.

"I see." She put the crystal ball back inside her pocket. "You're not the first one to think that, though. A police officer was here a few days ago. Those town's people still hate us, even centuries later, simply for being Yamadas. But I truly had nothing to do with those deaths."

"I see." Nanami muttered the thought for a moment. "And do you have an innate cursed technique?" Cursed techniques in sorcerer's families that were passed through generations were common, even if those that involved poisoning their victims weren't that common.

She was a little surprised with the question. "Well, it has nothing to do with poison, I can tell you that much. I can show you, but it can't be done inside the house."

"Why?"

"Because I still want to have a roof over my head. Come." She pointed to the door, and they went outside. Behind the house, there were plenty of wide holes in the ground just barely covered in snow, something he hadn't noticed earlier.

"Please, step back." She concentrated, put both hands together and said "cursed technique: melt grenade". Then, Shiori threw a small blue ball of cursed energy towards the holes. It exploded loudly, and made a hole around 2 feet deep, covered in a thick corrosive black substance.

"That's all?" Nanami asked. He waited for a response, but after a few seconds of silence, looked at her just to see Shiori falling to the ground. He started walking to her side offering assistance, but she was already sitting herself up, as if this was something the woman was accustomed to.

"Yes. That is all. I can only throw one or two of these before passing out." She stood up slowly. "So this is it. Unfortunately, there is not much I can do to help you." She had a surprisingly laid back approach, even if the circumstances they had met were somewhat odd.

Nanami sighed. At least this explained why she used a gun. Nevertheless, it was a dead end, after all.

"I was told you had a brother. Where is he?" He asked.

"My brother decided to do some traveling about a year ago. He went looking for our parents. I told him it was a bad idea, but he did it anyway. I don't know where he is currently." Shiori responded. "His name is Shiro. Our parents weren't very creative naming twins".

"Well, I won't occupy you any longer. I'll be on my way, then." Nanami said, as he bowed and started to leave.

"It's fine. But if you come by again, please, just knock on the door." Shiori responded with a half smile, putting her hands inside her pocket while she calmly walked back inside the house.

***

Back at the hotel, Nanami was on the phone talking to Yaga and giving him his report on the investigation. He informed Yaga about Ijichi's findings, and the conversation he had with Shiori.

"I see." Yaga said. "Keep an eye on her, though."

"Why?"

"Well, she has a cursed object we were not aware of. Doesn't seem like anything serious, but she could be hiding something."

"I understand." Nanami pondered for a moment. "She had some visitors from Jujutsu High years ago, more specifically from the Kyoto sister school, according to her."

"We usually scout families that have a history with jujutsu for potential students, but they don't always accept the invite." Yaga replied. "I didn't know she was one of the people we visited."

Nanami, still on the phone, walked towards the TV and turned it on. Local news had an urgent news broadcast on.

"Well, I imagine this is it for resting today." he said.

"I'll make the necessary calls. Go there now." Yaga replied.

He sat on the bed as he heard the reporter say police had just discovered a new body.

"I'm charging overtime fees."

#jujutsu nanami #jjk #nanami kento #kento nanami #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu sorcerer #jujutsu kaisen #jjk satoru #jjk fanfic #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #fanfiction #ao3 author #archive of our own #sandandsnowchapter #jjk fanart #anime and manga

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sophfandoms53 · 6 months

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Okay time to get sappy a week after the finale LMAOO

As always, The Tag is my favorite part of the season and if we get good feeds along with it? A feast. And a majority of this season was like that, and I shall highlight some of my favorite memories from throughout the season and the tag that I will always be thinking about in years to come

- This is the funniest one for me, but us being locked out of the tag during reilly’s eviction and how we discovered that just minutes before the episode started, but that didn’t stop us from live blogging anyway LMAOO.

- And then they had the AUDACITY to announce the pressure cooker was finally coming back the following week and we couldn’t even properly celebrate together so we were all just screaming into the void😭 (or the nether region lol)

- That random vegan person who dropped the season bc Felicia asked for real butter lmao??

- Omg that chipmunk account we all thought was ohthecleverness and y’all called it the squeakuel and i think this person vanished from the tag

- GOING BACK TO THE PRESSURE COOKER, THE FEEDS THAT NIGHT??? Immaculate.

- It was magic to watch that in real time with each other. The shock we were in that the hgs broke an hour and then come to find out they almost broke the original record by mere MINUTES.

- The panic every time someone we liked dropped. The collective “CORY NO”’s live rent free to me.

- Us STRESSING so badly when Cameron wouldn’t let go and then America threw it to him😭 truly was magic tho

- Watching Cory go from someone the tag tolerated to being the IT boy of the season and the tag, iconic, that speech and debate boy had those hgs clawing walls

- Cory shutting down any misogynistic or problematic comment from anyone (the 21 turned 22 year old being the most responsible person this season should be studied)

- Corswhores that’s it LMAOO

- Cory suffering from the second juror curse

- America truly being one of us

- Cirie a queen to watch live

-omg that time Cirie said “I ain’t never played with people this stupid before.” SHE WAS AHEAD OF HER TIME

-Izzy deserved sm better from the edit, you could not escape this girl on the feeds

-The episode edits sucking for a vast majority of the season and for the houseguests (i swear i’ve never seen a season’s edit and its feeds be completely different from each other before how tf did that happen)

- Our collective hatred for the multiverse twist

- FUCKING BOWIE JANE

- Everything about Felicia really, the FBJ remix, her and Mr B (smooches), even tho she was pawned all summer watching her game was so fun

- HISAM ROBBED KING BUT HE SAVED US FROM THE REILLY CULT

- Us being split just like the house during the Izzy flip (we managed to stay more civil than twitter ever did, as we should)

- AND HOW COULD I FORGET THE JARED AND CORY FIGHT IN THE HAVE NOT ROOM???

- Two hours of Jared forcing everyone to go in circles, Cory reaching his limit, Jag coming in, Cirie coming in, Bowie just sitting there

-“Who the fuck is for real for real???”

- This exchange kills me everytime idk why

Cory: You also told me seven deadly sins was fake.

Jared: Who THE FUCK told you that???

Cory: YOU DID.

Jared: You wanna know why I told you that?

- Jared’s “YOU must’ve misunderstood.” about Matt, and then Cory’s immediate “WHOA, WHOA, NO.” Lives rent free

- “Jared, you have been yelling for forty minutes.”

- That gif of Cirie face palming as she listened to her son completely obliterate their games

- Cory’s face palm image

- This happening on a hot dog bed

- Mecole, America, and Blue all getting ready downstairs while this was transpiring upstairs LMAO

- I can literally quote and go on about this fight for hours, and im so mad i cant go back and watch the unedited version anymore (UPDATE SOMEONE UPLOADED IT ON YOUTUBE LETS GO)

- Y’all remember that assignment i did about this fight? Not only did i get a perfect score but i also got a bonus point and my prof wrote a note that i was so descriptive he wanted to watch LMAO

- The post season being less chaotic than the actual season is such a funny ending

-everyone joining cameo???

- And lastly, How did your game change for, I’m gonna say the better, when you joined the Mafia with Matt and I :D

Alright all of that highlighted, despite the chaos and the exhaustion of this 100 day season (BB gods never do this to us again oh my god) it’s been such a pleasure to open up the tag and read my morning newspaper the last three months LMAOO.

This has been the most active I’ve been in the tag thus far and with a season this all over place, it was a trip. But, truthfully, I’d do it again. You guys always make all the nonsense worth it because despite the different sides we’ve been on all season, we know this show is a train wreck and that our real enemy is always production 😭

Thank you guys again for such a lovely community these past few months, and we shall be back in few weeks tragically 🥲🫡💙

#its been quite a season 😭#despite its mediocre ending #it was fun mostly #and thank y’all for that #love you all through all the insanity fr #bb25 #bbrg #this is the new tag right LMAOO

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heathersdesk · 2 months

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2 Nephi 5

So y'all now know where I stand on Nephi being an unreliable narrator. In one of my previous posts, I talked about this in reference to his treatment of his family and his leadership. I tackled the racism superficially, so let's go ahead and choke slam it the rest of the way.

20 Wherefore, the word of the Lord was fulfilled which he spake unto me, saying that: Inasmuch as they will not hearken unto thy words they shall be cut off from the presence of the Lord. And behold, they were cut off from his presence. 21 And he had caused the cursing to come upon them, yea, even a sore cursing, because of their iniquity. For behold, they had hardened their hearts against him, that they had become like unto a flint; wherefore, as they were white, and exceedingly fair and delightsome, that they might not be enticing unto my people the Lord God did cause a skin of blackness to come upon them.

2 Nephi 5:20-21

Has this passage been used historically to enable racism in the Church, including the justification for the racial priesthood restriction? Yes. Absolutely. Curse of Cain. Curse of Ham. Less valiant in the presence. Slavery being perpetuated into eternity. The whole shebang. This isn't the origin, as early pro-slavery church leaders pursued biblical justifications for slavery like everyone else. What this verse did was present the opportunity for Saints so inclined to create their own Mormon flavored versions of those justifications.

How does Come Follow Me approach these attitudes and the racism that perpetuated them?

What was the curse that came upon the Lamanites? In Nephi’s day the curse of the Lamanites was that they were “cut off from [the Lord’s] presence … because of their iniquity” (2 Nephi 5:20–21). This meant that the Spirit of the Lord was withdrawn from their lives. When Lamanites later embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ, “the curse of God did no more follow them” (Alma 23:18).

The Book of Mormon also states that a mark of dark skin came upon the Lamanites after the Nephites separated from them. The nature and appearance of this mark are not fully understood. The mark initially distinguished the Lamanites from the Nephites. Later, as the Nephites and Lamanites each went through periods of wickedness and righteousness, the mark became irrelevant.

Prophets affirm in our day that dark skin is not a sign of divine disfavor or cursing. President Russell M. Nelson declared: “I assure you that your standing before God is not determined by the color of your skin. Favor or disfavor with God is dependent upon your devotion to God and His commandments and not the color of your skin” (“Let God Prevail,” Ensign or Liahona, Nov. 2020, 94).

As Nephi taught, the Lord “denieth none that come unto him, black and white, bond and free, male and female; … all are alike unto God” (2 Nephi 26:33).

I've heard theories that the skins, rather than talking about the complexions of people, refers to the clothing skins they wore, or some kind of mark they would put on their faces such as tattoos or body art. I've also heard people lean into the notion that this was meant to be metaphorical, centering the images in the text of flint or scales in their eyes. What the church is attempting to teach now in Come Follow Me is that we don't know what is meant here, but it's NOT complexion. I don't find any of these compelling and I want to talk about why.

So we don't know what it means? But we know it's not racist? So which is it? You can't have it both ways like that. So let's be honest!

We know it's not intended to be racist because the Church tried that for over a century, and it became obvious it was ungodly, abusive, false. We are willing to admit now that such attitudes contradict Scripture and the nature of God because our community existed in the ridiculous position of maintaining racist policies in the face of those scriptural contradictions that condemned us. THAT'S how we know the Lamanite "curse" is not supposed to signify complexion skin color.

We paid dearly for that lesson in how many people were denied the fullness of God and his blessings, so let's not diminish that history so we don't have to repeat it. Especially since the Church exists in cultures and societies around the world who are currently attempting to conceal this kind of history so they can go on repeating it.

Besides being disingenuous with what our experience as a community has been, my issue here is that these attitudes deserve more complex and sophisticated dismantling than this. Especially because with these justifications of alternate curses being proposed, the crucial lesson here is going unlearned.

It is counter to the nature of God and the order of heaven to punish the innocent. Curses that expand beyond the necessary bounds of punishing the perpetrator(s) are inherently unjust, regardless of the nature of the curse. We don't believe that children are punished for the sins of their parents. Period. That's what the scriptures teach. We have an entire Article of Faith dedicated to that principle. God does not curse anyone for sins they didn't commit. People do that. God does not.

The racial priesthood restriction became our Original Sin, with more steps. It was nothing short of hypocrisy, perpetuated by prophets and apostles who had every reason to know better, but didn't. It was where the leadership of our church, in the attempt to appear smart and clever, copied the homework from the rest of Christianity when they became obsessed with scientific racism and eugenics, and it took us WAY too long to admit the mistake. And in many ways, our community STILL can't openly talk about it or admit to it. Which is how we end up with weak sauce explanations like the one given in Come Follow Me for 2 Nephi 5.

I'm not afraid to say that prophets and apostles are capable of teaching false doctrine. They are imperfect human beings who are susceptible to making these kinds of mistakes and leading people astray. This is a reality we must be prepared to face as believers in community with one another.

If we can't see and condemn these failures in someone like Nephi, how can we hope to see and recognize them in someone like Brigham Young, J. Reuben Clark, or Bruce R. McConkie?

Note that Come Follow Me quotes 2 Nephi 26. These are some of my favorite verses in all of scripture. Let's realize together that Nephi had to grow into this revolutionary vision of a God who embraces all people without prejudice. By the time Nephi reaches the maturity to say that "all are alike unto God," the perpetuation of his prejudice and the attending destruction in the conflicts of his people were already set into motion. He spent his remaining years finally teaching the truth of respect and inclusion his younger self didn't know how to believe in.

At the exact moment he finally envisions the love of God, the curse he describes in 2 Nephi 5 had already taken root into the cultures of two groups who would go on hating each other until the bitter end. The prejudice Nephi taught became the defining obstacle for the Nephites and Lamanites, shaping the beliefs who came afterwards, who continue to appeal to and describe this curse throughout the rest of the narrative. Nephi created this curse, at least in part, and every generation after him found ways to perpetuate and reinforce it.

The Book of Mormon was written for our day. And it's hard to describe this curse and NOT think of racism because it is very much like a curse in our modern day. This prejudicial hatred is a destructive force in our society. It's perpetuated by people in power who seek their own personal gains by feeding into those conflicts. And like any curse, it doesn't have to come from God to have the worst kind of power imaginable. All it takes for such a curse to survive is for the people who are impacted by it to never challenge their relationship to it in any meaningful way. Like cancer, it spreads and worsens by going unacknowledged and untreated.

#mormon #lds #mormonism #tumblrstake #the church of jesus christ of latter day saints #scripture study #the book of mormon

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viilpstick · 2 days

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Anyways!!! Here's the very very beginning of the event, it's not the event itself it's more of a prologue, and like I said I'll formally post it later once I have stuff figured out (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ enjoy!

Tagging @justm3di0cr3 too!!

•••

“Uhm… I'm sorry if I'm overstepping, Isabelle but…” Poppy began, using her spoon to mix the sugar in her tea, staring at it nervously. “You seem a bit… off today.”

“Off?” Isabelle repeated, lifting her eyebrow.

“I must agree.” Adeline explained. “You’ve been sighing and frowning more than usual. Don't tell me…” the blonde gave her a knowing look and Isabelle rolled her eyes.

“No, it doesn't involve Leona. Different from what you believe, Delih, my world doesn't revolve around him.” Adeline pouted and Poppy let out a small giggle. Isabelle sighed. “I must return to my kingdom this friday and start preparations for the ball.”

“Ball?”

“Ah, you must be referring to the Rose Ball.” The blonde said, a happy smile on her face as Isabelle nodded, but Poppy just continued confused. Adeline chuckled. “In Roseneuve, that is, our housewarden’s kingdom, there's a ball held once every 10 years to celebrate the end of the curse of The Cursed Beast and the bravery of The Fearless Princess for breaking said curse.”

“Wait, our Fearless Princess?”

“Indeed. My kingdom is where the story of the wonderful princess our dorm is based on originates from.” Isabelle continued and Poppy grinned, a little 'oh!' escaping her lips, making the older one smile from such reaction. Still, Poppy tilted her head in confusion.

“Wait… but why are you upset, Isabelle? Isn't it an honor to prepare for this event? I’d be over the moon!”

“Well… it should be but… let's just say my considerate older sisters decided to throw all the responsibility onto me this year.” Isabelle clicked her tongue in annoyance. “They're exactly 7 and 10 years older than me, yet they fail to have basic decency… I'm the youngest one yet I'm expected to take care of such an important date…!” Isabelle breathed in and out, trying to calm her nerves and sipped her tea. “Well, it's not like complaining will change anything, so nevermind all that.”

“That's a shame… I wish I could help you in any way.”

“Me too, but unfortunately said ball is destined only to royals and nobility.” Adeline said, sipping in her own tea and Isabelle groaned, hand on her forehead.

“Do not remind me… to think I have to deal with such people…” she complained, but then lifted her eyes to Adeline, her eyes shining in delight as an idea popped in her head. “Wait– that's it! Adeline, Poppy you two are geniuses!”

The two girls looked at each other and then to their housewarden, tilting their heads almost at the same time, creating a comic image. “We are?”

“Papa always insists that in every ball if I want to bring friends over, I can! Exceptions can always be made for the Desrosiers’ acquaintances!” Isabelle clapped her hands in excitement. They didn't need to know that her father only said this to encourage Isabelle to make more friends, and they definitely didn't need to know that it failed hundreds of times. “I must call papa immediately– oh, that is, if you two want to come with.”

“I’d be delighted!” Poppy cheered and Adeline seemed to think it through, an anxious expression on her face.

“Delih? What is it, would you not like to come?”

“No, no– well, it's just…” she looked between the girls and sighed, letting cautious out the window. She could always use her Unique Magic to flee if someone happened to figure out her real status. “I suppose it would be fun.”

“That's wonderful! Oh, girls you two are the best.” Isabelle quickly got up and kissed both of her friends’ faces, running away to her room and letting most of her tea untouched. Poppy sighed dreamily.

“A ball, a royal ball at that! I wonder what Epel’s gonna say once I tell him!”

“Yes, I wonder…” Adeline mumbled, half of her hoping Malleus wasn't invited this year, and another one hoping he did.

ADELINE USING HER UM TO RUN AWAY IS SO REAL LIKE- "Oh, aren't you the princess of-" WOOSH!

she was there than she is no longer there

mah istg i am SO EXITED to see what you are up too LKJAKAJKLJ

giggling as i will anxiously wait for the rest frfr

#𐙚 moots ♡#inbox 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ✧#♡ ! mah

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tavyliasin · 4 months

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ATG 10 - Cat? Claw

In which the master of the house comes home.

Pairing: Haarlep/Tav /Raphael SPICE Rating: 5/5 - this is my peak, loves. Content Warnings: Sex, BDSM, Power Play, group sex, voyeurism,

Spoilers Act 3, House of Hope Canon Compliance Canon Is....boring. There's very little hint of canon here, it's purely indulgent. Other Notes (from the original release) I don't have more for now it's just a continuation of 9 and I let all my hinges go for you darlings it's out there now and I'm in my smuttiest era.

Post release note - mmhmm well indeed, my era continued from here, I'm still loving it~ Thanks, Past Lia, you did wonderfully~

Song/Mood Move Your Body by My Darkest Days "The two of us will fuel this fire No way in hell we're slowing down tonight Then just for fun take your tongue and run it over my lip And gotta love the way she does it for the hell of it We're in positions that most people only say they know. You got your hand on a landmine, ready to blow But the devil can hear you when you say... C'mon and get up (get up), move your body Use your body, lose control. Rub it right up, against my body Use my body, make it yours."

----- FULL CHAPTER BELOW THE CUT -----

Raphael frowned across the table. This should have been an easy contract to make, a simple soul wanting to save his business making shoes or watches or… Raphael did not care. It didn’t matter. It was a simple thing to grant a little talent, to pull a few strings and manipulate the world to turn in favour of his designs. Just as easy, too, to pull it all away again should the debtor refuse to hold up their end of the bargain.

Today, however, his mind was being intruded by unwelcome thoughts. Across the planes, a heat kept prickling his skin. Even in his human guise, he felt moments of sensation in the place his tail would be. Haarlep. He allowed his personal incubus their proper name only in his thoughts for now. They enjoyed it too much if he spoke it aloud in their presence, so he withheld it from them as their prize for doing a good job. The kind of good job that he was thinking about now instead of whatever this peasant was rambling on about.

He cursed under his breath as his knee struck the table, another reaction to whatever Haarlep was doing with his body at home. For hells’ sake, wench, can you not wait until I return? Even his thoughts were laced with the venom he was preparing to unleash on the unruly incubus. There was an agreement about when and where they were allowed to use him and today was not on the agenda.

“Yes, yes, everything you want will be yours in short order, Korilla will fill you in on the details. Now, if you will excuse me I have other business to attend to.” He stood without waiting for the peasant’s reply, barely registering the look of perplexed frustration glaring daggers at his back as he stepped out of the dusty little shop. It didn’t take long for him to reach the brothel, quickened steps threatening to break the wood of the staircase as he swept into the room he kept for more important deals and cast open the portal.

Stepping through the shimmering magic and into Avernus in an instant, Raphael absent mindedly licked his lips, the hint of heat there was about to make a lot more sense.

In front of him, he could see that mirrored image of his own back, wings spread wide and shielding him from seeing the full scene.

“Well, well, well,” the master of the house spoke with a practiced air of calm irritation, “I don’t believe we had any scheduled guests today. And what, or rather who, the FUCK do you think you are doing, Harlot?” He spat out the greeting, the calm slipping away word by word. He was just about ready to dispatch whoever it was who had the audacity to lay in his bed, using his personal incubus. The very same who now folded their wings and turned to face him, fingers still buried deep in the body that lay bound on the bed, arms back, legs open, on full display and not even looking in his direction.

“Little Mouse?-”

---

Tav couldn’t hear anything that was going on around her. Her entire mind and body had given over to Haarlep’s control, and gods did it feel so good. Even now their tongue had ceased lavishing its lies of affection, the ground itself warping beneath her with the intensity of pleasure that pulsed through her, she barely noticed the emptiness it left. Fingers were still slowly, methodically teasing out the core of her desire…but the heat within her was spiralling out of control. Dangerously. But perhaps not as dangerous as the wave of rage that washed through the room with the presence she was incapable of noticing.

---

Haarlep stared defiantly back at the intruder. Well, intruder wouldn’t be quite right, this was his house, but he was not the master in this room. But with their guest upon the bed, appearances could be a problem. “She doesn’t know you’re here, not yet.” They warned, idly licking the still heated taste of her from their lips, fingers continuing their work. “Luckily for you, she’s enthralled. Unluckily for her, she took a little too much of a taste of my saliva.” “I do not recall giving you permission to play with my toys.” Raphael stood still, arms folded, though his eyes kept drifting to Tav’s writhing body and away from the incubus’s amused smirk. “I certainly did not give you permission to break them.” “Well then Archduke, might I humbly suggest that the master of the house deal with his own problems?” Haarlep stared defiantly, reaching down to touch themselves in just the way that Raphael would feel it. “If she isn’t sated, that fun little mind might just burn to a crisp.” The cambion stood, unmoving, still in his human form. “Enthralled, you said?” “Yes. Entirely. All she can feel,” they punctuated their point by drawing another moan from her throat. Raphael swallowed involuntarily. “All she can see, hear, is me. Of course it would be the matter of a moment to release her attentions-”

“No.” He replied far too quickly. “No…” Much slower that time, drawing it out as he stroked his chin in idle thought. “Not yet. As you seem to have been enjoying yourself so far, perhaps you should continue whilst you explain exactly how this came about. I shall decide what to do based on your answers.” Haarlep might have been surprised by the shift from Raphael’s usual combative tone, but they knew him far too well. He was calculating, intrigued, and the possibilities were delighting Haarlep no end. They didn’t have any need to fear the wrath of the master of the house, they knew exactly how many lines they could cross without his ire burning them like so many foolish debtors. No, with a new player on the board the game had only changed. They weren’t sure whether to pity or envy the writhing elf, moans increasing as they pressed a thumb precisely where it was needed to draw tiny circles around oversensitive nerves. Oh she was going to prove to be quite the banquet, they might even feel sated for a full week after this.

They quietly observed Raphael, who simply reclined himself in a lavish armchair facing the bed. Ah, so that’s how he wants to play it, they mused. “So, your permission? Nicely, or I might change my mind and make you do all the work.” “Fine, Haarlep, you may have her at your leisure. She did ask for it, did she not?” Raphael was feeling unseasonably generous. This could work in his favour after all, and he didn’t even mind watching the incubus’s wings fluttering in delight at hearing their proper name. The bitch might just earn it. “So very generous of you to give me exactly what you want~” Haarlep gave him just the slightest hint of a wink as they finally stopped working their fingers inside Tav. She lay there breathless, skin flush with heat and longing, not quite able to form words yet. Haarlep looked the master of the house directly in the eye now, licking the flavours from their fingers with well practiced seduction, sliding their other hand inside the lower part of the harness and gripping tightly.

Naturally, Raphael’s bond was stronger when they were in the room together. Instead of the fleeting whisper of feeling, he could now feel the clawed talons gripping him, taste the hint of the Little Mouse’s lust on the tip of his tongue- “Do not leave her long, now. Break her, and I assure you that you will regret it.” “As you wish~” Their reply was playful, but they felt the weight of the threat. “She seemed disappointed that I wasn’t you, you know. But she was more than willing, for all of this, just to learn a few petty little secrets .” They bent down between Tav’s still bound legs, gripping her hip with one hand whilst the other worked themselves - and by extension, Raphael - thrusting their tongue inside to savour every shudder of pleasure they could wring from their new favourite plaything.

“And you kept your mouth shut?” Still in his human form, he began to loosen the fine silks that were beginning to feel like a noose. His ears burned as a low wail reverberated through the room, the almost pitiable mortal writing and shaking as another climax was coaxed from her burning body. Haarlep raised their head slowly, allowing their horns to rake a path along Tav’s inner thighs. “I was not born last century, Archduke. ” They pressed their own clawed nails into themselves, barely registering the pain as Raphael hissed between clenched teeth. “Now do enjoy the show, won’t you?” ---

Tav’s head was spinning. All she could see before her was the sea of flame red skin taut over rippling muscles, wide wings spread above her, wicked horns and hair that was still somehow completely smoothed. They had been looking…somewhere…saying something.. None of it had registered over the waves of aftershock still coursing through her entire being. If it weren’t for the vines still holding her tightly in place, she was almost certain she would have ascended through the ceiling itself some time ago.

Haarlep bent over her now, gripping her chin and forcing her to look directly into their eyes. The whole plane seemed to be consumed in their gaze, their voice travelling directly from her ears to somewhere far lower. “Found your voice again yet, Little Rat? I told you when we began, you would have use of my name. Tell me, clearly now. What do you want?” Her voice was hoarse, but she forced her tongue and lips to form the words of her desires. “I want you, Haarlep.” Their wings shuddered an approval, drawing a slightly frustrated sigh from somewhere on the other side of the room. A noise that had no chance of reaching Tav’s ears as Haarlep tightened their grip on her chin. “Oh I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that, Rat. You want me to what ?”

“I want you,” she rasped, “to fuck me. Ruin me. I can’t…” Her voice left her, as her desperate eyes sought approval, confirmation, reassurance that she would get what she needed . “Good, little rat, good. You are doing so very well~” They spoke to her, through her, with a voice dripping with seductive approval. They had her exactly how they wanted her. Helpless, desperate, yearning and oh how they did love to taste it all. They breathed deeply, drinking it in like the finest of wines. But they would not ignore a plea, not when she had begged so beautifully for them.

Raphael watched silently, attention completely captured by the sight further unfolding. Haarlep removed their harness with a wave of their hand, magic was always so much easier than wasting time on buckles. He respected that, even as he sat with his shirt half open, focused entirely on every move his perfect living mirror made. They knew how to seduce him, and watching it work on the Little Mouse, well that was new, it was enticing. Usually the fiend simply concealed himself in another part of the room, reading a book and lazily allowing the sensations to pass over him and through him without getting involved. His invited guests got what they wanted, sex with his body, but he didn’t have to bother with any of the effort or showmanship. Haarlep provided all of that, and fed on the energy they made. A fine contract. But this was not a time he was content to sit back and ignore the proceedings. No, seeing Haarlep running his hands - no, their hands - across the Mouse’s body, drawing forth gasps and moans as they teased her, pressing against her but denying her the satisfaction of entering her until she was almost completely broken. Watching her struggle against the vines that held her, even as Haarlep’s first thrust filled her entirely with his - no, their… The line between his own body and the copy that filled his senses with the experience he should have only been witness to, that line was fast becoming a blur. This was…different. The feeling of being utterly filled by Haarlep whilst the echoes of his own muscles tightened around him was not the same as only having the phantom of her gripping, squeezing, the lewd sounds of her ragged breath and desperate whimpering only making him more…more what? I’m not fucking jealous, I don’t want-

---

Tav rolled her head back as another orgasm swept through her. She didn’t know how long they’d been here, she barely remembered how she even got here, if someone asked her name she would likely get it wrong . But, gods, it did not matter. Not now.

Above her, Haarlep was relentless. Changing their rhythm every time she thought she was used to the pressure, the friction of hard ridges stimulating nerves she didn’t even know she had. Their voice filled her ears with praise, assurances, everything she didn’t know she wanted to hear as the sound shuddered through her body directly to her core. Tav lit up again, the fire rising, swelling, and bursting in a wave of ecstasy. She strained against the vines, writing for more friction as she rode out the orgasm for the…well she had no idea how many it had been now, she was the beach and their waves kept crashing over her time after time after glorious fucking time. The last corner of her mind clinging desperately to reason, was screaming danger , yelling into the eye of the storm that giving over any further would mean certain death, crying out for a saviour to pull her from the depths of bliss before it swallowed her whole.

---

“Enough.” Raphael stood beside the bed, unsure of how his feet had carried him there, but completely certain of his command. “She isn’t done, you know.” Haarlep tilted their head towards the still all-too-human for their liking Raphael. “Should I release her?”

“Not yet.” He made a swift gesture and an aura of darkness surrounded them. Only the fiend and his incubus could see through the magic, see how Tav blinked in the dark, pulling harder to reach where she last knew Haarlep to be. “Now.” Haarlep released their concentration, allowing the effects of the Enthrall to fade away. Had the darkness not been cast, she would’ve been able to see the look that passed between the devils above her, the silent mouthing of words, the nod of understanding.

---

Tav heard the voice again, breath hot and close to her ear. “Do you want more, Little Mouse?” There was no touch, only sound, and it did nothing to ease the burning ache of need.

“P..please…” Only a single word left her lips, not a thought behind it, not even realising her nickname had changed.

“All our Little Thief wants to do is take .” The sound from the other side, Tav turned her head in vain trying to reach the source. “Then it is about time for the Mouse to take the bait .” She turned again, confused, wanting, unable to untangle her lust enough to see the truth. The next time the voice… voices spoke, it was in an infernal stereo, the heat from two sets of lips burning at her ears and finally bringing her to a very distinct realisation. “We will end your delicious suffering, soon.”

Tav’s mind damn near folded in half as she felt not 2 but 4 hands seeking every oversensitive nerve in her tormented body. It didn’t matter that she had been completely caught in the trap, found in a room she didn’t belong, because the owner of that room had stepped out of her wildest dreams and into shudderingly vivid reality. She wished she could see, but she could tell by the difference in their fingertips that Raphael was still in his human form. Cherries, she could smell them now as lips pressed to her throat. Greedy, messy, devouring. Cinnamon still drifted through the air from Haarlep too, though it seemed they had moved to her legs, alternating between massaging her muscles and digging their claws in to draw blood. Pleasure and pain, everything they had promised, with the greed of the house’s master- Between their ministrations she could hear moments of bickering, instructions passing to and fro accompanied by insults. By the time they release her from the vines that held her, she wasn’t sure which one she wanted to reach out for. But it was human lips that stole a passionate and needy kiss, while his hand took a firm grip around her throat. Tav nearly choked on the tongue that seemed to want to draw her soul out with pure avarice, but she held on, following where she was lead as the pair pulled her up to her knees only to press her back down on to all fours. “Go on, behind, at the back where you belong. You will work for what you want, whether you like it or not.” One voice snapped, a clear command but hard to make sense of who exactly it came from when they shared the same intonations. But the order was not for Tav, it was for… Well that was surprising. Cherry scent gave way to cinnamon, clawed hands caressed her neck, lifting her chin.

Haarlep’s thumb pressed on her bottom lip, encouraging her to open her mouth for them, just as she felt the vines coil around her body once more. This time her wrists were held firm, with the vines reaching further up to help her arms support her weight. Her legs, however, were not bound alone. She felt the heat of bare skin, the pressure of him behind her, his knees between her own where she knelt on all fours. The vines coiled around them both, thighs pressed together with maddening heat, a final whipping noise from somewhere in the darkness behind her not striking her own flesh but drawing out a tortured groan as he sank deep into her in a swift and brutal motion. Tav gasped, almost choking at the shock of being filled in a split second, but as soon as her mouth was open she had a new reason to choke. Hardened ridges of hot skin grazed her tongue, enticing her to taste. Behind her, vines creaked and whips cracked in the hot air punctuating each thrust with a punishing rhythm. Fingers grasped at her hips, her back, trying to find purchase anywhere just to hold on as the incubus’s infernal laughter echoed around the chamber.

---

Tav’s moans were muffled, but music to Haarlep’s ears. This could hardly be a better day for them, they even decided they’d leave their deal off the table…for now. Raphael was right, this toy was not one they wanted to break. All the potential they saw was now blooming brightly even within the haze of magical darkness that blinded the eyes trying to look up at them. “Don’t stop now, Little Rat, that’s it…feel everything.” Their hands caressed her hair with a deceptive care, right before their tail whipped around from behind them to strike her between her shoulder blades, gentle fingers now clawing into her scalp to keep them in her mouth even as she moaned around ridged flesh.

They cast their gaze back to Raphael, his expression somewhere between a white hot rage and undiluted lust that was destroying his sense of reason.

“Satisfied, Archduke?” They asked, not giving a single care for the answer. They knew. They knew he could feel himself enveloped by her, feel himself filling her entirely from both sides, but they would not let him release yet. Too soon and it may not be enough to soothe the heat of the single kiss that took everything too far. Or perhaps that was just their excuse to keep this going as long as they could, searing it into their mind with every exquisite detail. Haarlep’s wicked mind worked fast, their own toes beginning to curl at the prospect even as the lewd tongue flickering around them tried to drive them to their end. Not yet, they hissed to themselves, the practice of subduing their own climax as easy as blinking. Not so for Raphael, however. The incubus raised a hand, a few motions from their fingers weaving a new design. The latest vine rose up and caught the fiend at the base in a moment between tortured thrusts, the mage hand lashing the whip with precise intervals to keep his pace. The binding would be enough to hold him from release until the true master of the room allowed it. “Harlot.” The fiend complained, the insult little more than a word swallowed by the other sounds being drawn from his throat. It was the kind of complaint made in vain, however. He was greedy, desiring to find release, but he would enjoy it more if made to wait for permission. “Now, if you please, Archduke,” the incubus commanded, the last part of this plan sliding into place, “assume your true form.”

---

Tav was enveloped, consumed, the heated thrusts filling her entirely from in front and behind. She had long since given up on listening to them talk, only letting their voices wash over her and through her, a lullaby of lust as she sank into the sensation. She could feel the sting of fresh bruises from the tail lashing down on her spine, fingers clawing into her hips, the vicious crack of a whip with far less gentle care than the blows on her own flesh driving the fiend to take her entirely. Then she felt the change. The growing, the friction of new ridges of hot and hardened flesh grinding against nerves so tightly bundled that she would have screamed if she had the breath to spare.

It was divine. She was desperate and between them they filled every needy little desire burning her up.

---

“Just a little more, sweet Thief, and you will take everything you wanted~” Haarlep spoke quietly this time, their words meant only for one set of ears. For the other, they sought their reward. “Tell me. Is this everything you desire?”

“You are well aware-” the reply was cut off by another crack of the whip, a firm reminder of what was expected now. “Haarlep, enough-” They glared at him now. A second and much sharper blow cut his voice down to a keening whimper. “Haarlep, please.”

“Very well, Raphael. Do as you wish.” They released the vine holding back his climax, and threw their head back, allowing the senses to rush into them, filling them with the most delicious banquet they could have hoped for as a symphony of pleasure played the melody of their own composing.

--- Tav felt the final climax throw her over the edge and almost entirely out of her body. Clawed hands held her head as she swallowed, while behind, below, a powerful pulsing sent waves of bursting light through her entire being.

She barely noticed the vines receding, the strong arms that caught her torso before her limbs could give way. The whole world was so far away, but nothing mattered. The heat was finally quenched, whether she recognised how close she had come to turning to ashes or not her body finally cooled. Tense muscles released, but bruises were beginning to swell angrily, interspersed with blood flecked claw marks.

---

“You went too far.” Raphael snarled, pulling Tav’s body towards him and leaning her against his chest.

“I went as far as I had to go. I told you, she took too much from me because what she really wanted was you . I gave her that much. You also seemed to enjoy yourself quite thoroughly~” Haarlep laughed, stepping off the bed and walking a little ahead towards the wide open bathing pool on the other side of the room. A small power move, tail swishing happily as they swayed their hips in a mockery of seduction.”She will be fine, bring her over.” Without much choice in the matter, the fiend scooped the exhausted elf up against his chest, tail guiding her weak arms to wrap around his shoulders. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like a lover’s carry, tender arms hooked under knees that had long since gone limp, one hand holding her head against him as she made soft noises now, a barely conscious mess in the aftermath of unbearable lust.

Clawed feet clicked on the hard stone floor, careful footsteps finally arriving at the water’s edge. It was cool, soothing, from the first moment his toes broke the surface. The cambion lowered himself gently into the bath as his incubus scattered scented petals through the water, preparing soaps, oils and salves.

“Such a beautiful canvas, don’t you think? And so wonderfully painted~” Haarlep purred happily, completely satisfied, as they sank into the water beside Raphael. They caressed the hair of their new favourite toy with a smile. “Next time-”

“Next time? Have you forgotten whose home this is? Whose-” The angry snarl was cut off by a sigh from within his arms. The water was beginning to do its work. “Now, now, you can bicker with me later. Now how about you take proper care of your Little Mouse?” They stroked the wounds they’d inflicted on the cambion’s own back, digging a talon in one moment and soothing the swollen welts with balms the next.

For his part, the master of the house was carefully holding Tav in his lap, letting the healing pool slowly do its work, watching as wounds knitted closed and allowing her to relax further until only her head was above water. “I could so easily just drown you right here, Little Mouse, and you’d never even know.” He mused, mostly to himself. There was as little chance of her hearing him as there was actual intention behind his words. “Oh you would never.” Haarlep laughed, not letting the chance to mock their so-called master slip through their clawed fingers. “Let her up a little again, that filthy hair needs a wash. Even a Little Rat should get clean now and then.”

“Rat,” Raphael tested the word, deciding it felt entirely wrong on his tongue, “where did that come from?”

“Never you mind about that,” they deflected his comment easily, pouring a little scented soap into their hands and working it into Tav’s hair, carefully massaging her scalp. “Just wash her body down, and use that salve on the bruises, if you please.” Her eyelids fluttered a little, but he could feel her body had yet to regain its strength, muscles completely relaxed in the most dangerous place she could possibly be…and yet she could also be no safer than held between two fiends in the middle of Avernus. The irony might have amused her, had she been able to form a thought yet.

---

Tav was somewhere. Drifting, her consciousness afloat in another space, barely aware of the soothing feeling of gentle hands and healing waters. One by one, her senses returned to her. She moaned softly at the feeling of claws gently combing through her hair, the scent of the soaps warm and delightful. The other warm thing was the…pillow? Wall? Whatever soft and firm thing it was that she was laid against.

“A lost little mouse, scurried through the house, looking for all the things she should not find. Footsteps, tippy tap, the mouse tripped the trap, leaving all her dreams behind.” The rumbling of the deep voice vibrated through the wall…no, the chest, her head was leaning on.

Her eyelids fluttered, the world still a blur of ambient light, the feeling of cool water becoming clearer as she moved her fingers to test if they were still there at all. All present and accounted for, she thought, relieved. There were places on her body that stung and ached, but this seemed to be dissolving away.

“Slowly, Little Mouse, do not run too fast. Trip now, and the fall could be your last.” The voice was closer now as she became more fully present in her body.

Tav suddenly realised who it belonged to, a swell of panic rising up from her guts as that little part of her mind that had been screaming danger for hours finally made itself heard. Oh fu-“Drink up, Thief. You might as well enjoy the spoils of your adventures to the full~ Oh, and consider the deal on hold, for now.” The owner of the second voice came into view, holding out a large chalice. “Drink first, there’s food after. You did so very well, I’m almost impressed.” They understated their satisfaction, unwilling to give too much praise to a mere scrap of a mortal…yet not withholding their smile either.

“We can discuss exactly what in the hells you were doing here later. I look forward to hearing your excuses, Little Mouse, so do make them entertaining.” His voice was cold and flat, yet his arms remained around her, not yet willing to cast her aside even though she was recovering.

---

Several hours later, Tav had been allowed to leave on the most infuriatingly awkward walk of shame in all her days. She was loathe to explain exactly what had taken her so long, though she had the distinct feeling that perhaps she didn’t need to. She had entered a bedroom through a broken balcony dressed in rags, and left through the front door smelling of delightful lotions, her hair still slightly damp, and wearing a well tailored - if plain - leather and silk outfit that accentuated every curve of her body.

At least her companions had spared her the questions she dreaded. Although she did note Astarion mouth the words “Rule Four” at her with a sly wink. Fine, she thought, I will have to record this in that damned book… I doubt they will let it happen again, anyway. Might as well preserve it in my own memory, at least. ----------- ----------- ENDING NOTES ----------- -----------

Ah, one of my favourites~ Finally letting the three play together, even getting some soft Raphael in there at the end with the aftercare. It might not be natural to him, but he can be all too easily pushed by Haarlep into doing exactly what they want of him. In this case, it's ensuring their new favourite toy will be able to play again. I need to write more of these three at some point, naturally. Perhaps some shorts, though they tend to run long as this was all meant to be in one chapter until it became two~ Well, until the next chapter loves do take care, and enjoy your stay in Avernus~

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #haarlep #bg3 raphael #bg3 tav #fanfic #a tav's guide

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plushieanimals · 2 years

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q: Do you know of any <animal/creature> plush?

please check my taglist for the most common animals i’ve posted, and if that doesn’t contain your animal you want then try using the blog search function (i know it’s bad) if you can’t find what you’re looking for then send me an ask!

q: Can you help me identify a plush?

i can definitely try my best! I will need you to give me as much info as you can, a picture, and picture or description of any tags/tush tags it may have. Also a year and country of purchase if at all possible. PLEASE send all ID requests as a NON-anonymous ask or through messages please! i can’t guarantee i’ll be able to help ID unless i can message you directly!

q: Where are some good places to find plush?

i wrote a whole post for US plushies that might give you a good starting point to search! the website stuffed safari lets you search many brands by species, color, brand, and more! here’s another post i wrote about other websites for in stock plush besides US brands

q: Is spam liking/reblogging okay?

Of course!!! i don’t mind it all!! ^_^ i’m happy you enjoy the content!

q: I’ve sent a request in and you haven’t filled it yet (general)

sometimes it’s hard to find certain plushies, especially the more specific and detailed the request. i also have adhd and get a lot of asks, so please feel free to send the request again! if you send it off anon i can answer you privately to tell you i had no luck (or if i did have luck!) you can ask me to not publish your ask too.

q: Do you have any tips/advice for washing/cleaning plush?

yes! i wrote a very detailed post here about my process for washing plush ^_^

q: I’m not a kink blog, but i do occasionally reblog/post nsfw content like swears, art, or silly text posts. Can i still follow?

Yes, i just don’t want DDLG or anyone who sexualizes age regression or kink blogs to follow me. It’s okay if you’re an age-reg blog as long as it isn’t a kink blog!!

q: what’s the rest of your general DNI?

No TERFS/Radfems or other transphobes. no MAPS/no-MAPS or supporters of them. the general DNI list you know

q: Can I use the images you post for my icon/header/edits/graphics/etc? Where do you get your images?

Yes!! I don’t own any of these pictures. The originals belong to the sources linked. I edit all the photos i post, but i do not own them ^_^ you can use them for whatever you like. I get the images off of brand websites. However, PLEASE do not take my edits and reupload them to a new tumblr post and pass them off as your own!!! I edit every single picture, I can tell!

q: I have a question that wasn’t answered here!

you can check my faq tag, but if your question wasn’t answered there then just shoot me an ask! for general questions i prefer non-anon so i can answer privately :) if i published every ask i receive the ratio of plushie posts to asks would be like 1:5 lol

q: what are your other blogs ?

my main is @plushieanimal ! i reply and follow from this blog. sometimes i reblog things with curse words or mild nsfw/jokes so beware if you don’t wanna see that. I don’t reblog sexual images or anything!

@plushieart is my original art blog!

thanks for reading!!! :3

#overdue #about #faq #super faq

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smoothshine · 2 years

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You probably thought I would never come back to posting cursed images in this blog, didn't you?

Well, worry not, today's post is sponsored by @mezzorizahawkeye (thanks for the tag!) and apparently I have to marry this now (aka the most recent fictional character that appeared in my camera roll):

Let me say I am, um, having doubts about this relationship, pretty sure only Riza can handle that much of this silly little man.

If you're wondering - yes, I drew the first one myself and I think it's about time the world sees this masterpiece. And yes, the last image is inspired by a certain video (link will be under the cut!) and it would be amazing if you go ahead and give the credit to the original creator, because you know, this peak comedy shouldn't stay contained within the limits of just one social media.

No-pressure tags for you @musing-and-music @goneadrift @nightofnyx8 @jedidragonwarriorqueen @klainelynch wonderful people, and everyone else who wants to participate (pretty sure the marriage thing is additional, I just want to take a look at your cursed photo galleries, if you happened to save any pictures of your faves, hehe)

The said certain video :)

#roy mustang #fullmetal alchemist #fmab #cursed memes #roy mustang bullying hours entered the house #i swear i love him but he makes it so damn easy #also i brought it upon myself because i was rearranging my gallery and those images became the last ones #and i thought i can't just rob you of this pleasure to see them here #upd: i promise i will post something less insane later #but I am lowkey proud of the snowman Roy:)

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thatoneao3author · 11 months

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fic excerpt - bright as the stars

sneak peek at chapter one of my upcoming au, bright as the stars. aka, the interstellar ian au (that’s the tag i’ll be using to post stuff under I think). for basic context, instead of ian’s plotline from the show, he got into acting when he was fifteen and scored his own blues clues vibe kids educational show called Interstellar Ian.

this is just a funny scene exploring how different his life turned out due to acting while making some references to the show. this takes place around season nine. tw for canon typical cursing and mentions of jail and weed

Fiona constantly said that Interstellar Ian was the thing keeping her brother’s life on track.

She had this theory that if he didn’t go into acting spontaneously and unplanned in the way that he did at the age of fifteen, his life would’ve been pure chaos. Not the good and adrenaline-filled chaos he ended up with, but pure insanity from the flames of hell.

He would’ve hijacked a helicopter or something else wild if he actually went into the army like he originally wanted, she would claim. It was sort of a joke when she told him, but Ian thought about it a lot. About how different things would’ve been if he didn’t take those early roles or decided to not sign that multi-season contract at the beginning.

“Where do you think I’d be now if I wasn’t acting?” he asked Lip one weekend during one of his regular visits to his family home. For one reason or another, Lip was the only one around to hang out. Well, Franny was there too, but she was sound asleep in the living room.

PBS played on the tv, an old episode of his show playing at a quiet volume. It was from season two or three, when Ian was still a kid and Trevor was still his costar. Before all the drama, before Ian was outed. Many people considered that era to be the prime of the show.

“Jail.” Lip answered immediately, not even pausing to think about it. “Fucking another dirty white boy in the shittiest cell in your block.” he added, placing a plate he had finished rinsing in the dishwasher.

“Damn.” the redhead winced at that image, throwing clothes into the drier in an attempt to help out his family. He still did his chores, despite everything. “Frank did something right for once, getting me that role.”

“I know his scamming is technically what got you in that first show, but you did everything from there.” Lip reminded, stating his words as if they were fact. They were, really. “You’re the one that scored your own show. At fucking sixteen years old. And here I am, a college dropout.”

“Correction, I got my own show when I was fifteen and a half. And you didn’t drop out of college, you were kicked out.” Ian amended.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Lip waved him off. Ian shook his head with a laugh as he closed the dryer, the two of them finishing up their tasks in momentary silence.

“You really think I’d be in jail?” Ian asked as he pressed the needed buttons on the machine, “Like, actually?”

“Oh, sure.” Lip hummed. He gave his brother a look after shutting off the tap water. “Weed or vandalism, probably.”

“I should say that in an interview, get a another round of parents to not let their kids watch me anymore.” the ginger joked.

(if you’re interested in getting more info about this au/my fics, follow this blog or send an ask with questions! please reblog with any thoughts, as well! thanks <3)

#shameless #Shameless US #shameless fanfiction #ian gallagher #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #frank gallagher #gallavich #Interstellar Ian AU #gallavich fic #gallavich au #mickey is the electrician who works on his set #more details to come xoxo #sneak peek!

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dr-frankenstims · 2 years

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request masterpost (OPEN)

DNI: TERFS/SWERFS, TRUSCUM, ANTI-KIN

hi! my name is frankie and i will make you a board. requests are open!

i take moodboard and stimboard requests for any theme including characters, ocs, animals, songs, and other concepts! (this is a very welcome place for introjects, those who kin, and those with DAs)

i only need to know the theme and whether you want a moodboard or stimboard! other things to help you get what you want may include number of images, predominant colors, extra themes, and what you don’t want included! you can also request special formats or anything else special, and i’ll do my best to help out! (moodboards and stimboards with certain special formats will be whole images without the individuals posted--please request if you want the individuals posted in regular format too) if you would like a special piece of art or image, submit it to me, dm me, or include the specifics of where i can find it in the ask. thank you!

examples: clawdeen wolf purple and green 3x3 stimboard with fur and sequins / egg stimboard 2x2, no hard-boiled pls / neon red slime stimboard please include fluffy and jelly slimes / monkey king moodboard with pastels and themes of love and mischief / hello kitty unique format moodboard plz feature cherries / 2x3 cross fox moodboard

i will not do these sources: south park / harry potter / hazbin hotel / helluva boss / dsmp / attack on titan / hetalia / lore olympus / identity v / friday night funkin

anything else is fair game! (with the exception of some irl people: i’ll let y’all know as they come up and add it to the blacklist!) i will also take ‘cursed’ and ‘meme’ stimboards and moodboards! this of course also includes things like self-insert, x reader, OC, pride, name, etc boards :)

if i've already done a certain theme, but you want to see it with different stims, colors, etc, don't be afraid to send in a request! i don't mind doing multiple things for one theme and would love to hear your request.

thank you for reading! i hope you enjoy what you find on my blog!

all gifs should be credited. tell me if i messed up a credit! colors in other people’s posts should be tagged, as well as my original posts; colors in moodboards and not stimboards may be tagged as “[color] aes”!. i will also tag aesthetics and themes such as food, but tell me if you need anything else tagged! my original creations will be tagged as ‘stimboard’ and ‘moodboard’!

also, i occasionally crop, cut, or color edit certain gifs for my stimboards—i appreciate credit if you use those! thank you!

#info #stimboard #moodboard #aesthetic #aesthetic maker #stim

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blue-kyber · 5 months

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Ok, ok, I've decided to post a small segment of the fic I'm writing for an original story and its characters I fell in love with.

This is m/m - which if you know me, is something I don't tend to write despite all of my MCs being male for some reason for the past... ever.

I'm demi-ace.

*ahem* ANYWHOZELBEE...

This fic is for the "Getting In Deep" series written by @peachnewt .

I found this story a couple of years ago (long after I'd started writing "Out There" - so, no, My Will and her Will are not connected) and didn't realize until recently that it's a comfort story for me. I'll go back to it when life sucks way too much for me to continue to be strong - like right now.

It's a good story with well developed characters, a cool plot line, sci-fi elements, things that interest me... Perfect story. I want more. GIMME MORE.

When I'm more financially stable instead of living with the constant anxiety of wondering if I'll be evicted every month or not, I'll purchase her book. We writers need to support each other, ya know? :)

I grew to love the MCs so much that I kicked my discomfort of m/m material to the other side of the globe and told it to never come back.

I refuse to accept this story any other way with anybody else. It MUST be these two idiots (affectionate).

Will and Louis, or bust. No substitutions.

They've been added to my basket of blorbos. I wish to wrap them in blankets, feed Will soup and tea, and Louis soup and coffee. They deserve to be happy forever. No, I will not take any questions. No, you cannot change my mind. :)

In openly posting this wip, I'm also stepping out of my comfort zone of exposing one of my interests that will likely garner painful judgement. This isn't easy for me to do, but I have to learn to accept myself for who I am - all of myself. If people are going to judge me for it and block me, then so be it. I wish them well in their lives.

So, here's an excerpt of the fic.

The story is from Will's POV, first person. He's my favorite. Baby boy. Baby.

It helps that he looks a lot like Yune Darrak from my story - though Yune's appearance is based on Eugene Fitzherbert's from Tangled. And Yune is demi-ace, because we need more representation of powerful relationships that don't involve sex, and because I said so. I am God of my galaxy. My word is law. Fear me.

Here's Yune for reference with Ena, his sentient crystal he shares a life long symbiotic bond with. Fun fact, he swallowed it when he was 12 in order to keep the person keeping him captive from stealing it again, and it stayed there for 8 years before he finally felt safe enough to get it out. For context, someone unwillingly parted from their crystal is akin to having their arms ripped off, the wounds salted, and then left to slowly bleed out. So you can understand why he took drastic measures to keep that from happening again. Swallowing it wasn't his original intention. It was an accident that ended up working in his favor. (image created with Artbreeder way back when the program came out and people were having fun with it before the AI problems, and before I'd discovered the "Getting In Deep" series. I'd already had a clear image of what Yune looked like in my head for years.)

Anyway....

Enjoy. :)

*squishes Will so he lets out a squeaky toy sound effect - as blorbos should always do when squeezed*

-----------------------------------------------------------

I leaned against his leather jacket, listening to his soft heartbeat. Of course, this is how it would happen. Why not? Story of my life.

I groaned, “Damn,” the curse came out in a drunken slur.

“What now?” Louis complained.

“I didn’t get to finish my tea.”

And with that, I succumbed to another nightmare, completely missing his grumbled, “Oh, for fucks sake.”

---

When I awoke again, I lay curled up in a ball in a dimly lit, warm room. Strands of my brown hair obscured my view. My arms were wrapped tightly around my middle, and I was shaking.

It took a few moments to catch my breath. The room moved gently back and forth with an even cadence, and it had the lingering scent of coffee, sugar, and soap.

I sat up, pushing my hair back and pressed my hands against the plush surface. My head was an arms length below the ceiling - nowhere near high enough to stand in. It took me a moment to remember what happened.

Oh.

Right.

Louis shrank me down as his idea of giving me peace.

Well, it didn’t work. The stupid idiot probably triggered the second nightmare. What was he thinking?

He was thinking about helping me.

My shoulders slumped, taking the piss and vinegar out of my ire. He meant well, I had to remind myself. That alone was a huge step for him. I guess I can’t be mad at him for trying.

I laid back down with my head on a protrusion of the floor that felt like a pillow. I had to be back to normal size being transported somewhere.

But in what? And to where?

The low domed ceiling looked like rounded cushions, as did the walls. The one to my right had a narrow oval shaped hole that let the majority of light in.

There were thin gaps in the wall to my left and in front close to my feet. The outer edges of the rounded slats had a tan glow from the outside light.

The one my head nearly brushed was completely solid. The entire surface had a slight coarseness to it. A little rough with a couple of folds, and was surprisingly comfortable.

I fit perfectly in one of the floor creases.

Honestly, laying here felt alright. I wouldn’t mind staying here for a little bit.

Curiosity got the better of me.

I shifted to peek through a crack in the front wall and saw something I didn’t expect.

The garden and the quickly-approaching entrance to the building. Someone had put me in a warm transport apparatus while I was unconscious.

An amused smirk creased my face. Louis would go backshit crazy in here. Maybe once I find out what this is, I’ll use it as payback; keep him in here for five minutes.

“Hmph,” I tossed that idea. No matter how perturbed I was at him, I could never use his phobia against him. That would be stepping too far over the line to the Darkside. I know all too well the harmful power of psychological warfare.

The transport stopped just inside the doorway.

The walls readjusted themselves like they reacted to my movements.

What the hell did they put me in? Was this a new device to counteract the effects of the neckbrace? I swear to God, I’m having words with Rachel and Cetz about keeping me in the dark regarding this stuff, especially when it involves me.

The sound of people talking stole my attention. It was Beni and Louis. And they were loud. I looked through the crack in the wall again.

My eyes widened. “...Beni?”

Beni was huge.

And I mean massively enormous.

This small woman I could pick up in one arm like a shit-talking sack of potatoes that would lift my wallet in the process became a mountain towering over me. She’d kept her distance, allowing me to see her face, but still.

She smiled down at me. She could see me peeking through the walls with an expression on my face of a stunned raccoon caught in the act of stealing breadsticks.

“Good luck, Will. Get some rest,” she said.

“Good luck? With what?” I planted my hands against the soft, tan walls and shouted, “Beni, with what?!”

“And Louis,” she leveled half of a maple bacon donut at him out of my line of sight - her recent bribe for something, “Try not to be an ass, and actually let him get some rest.”

Louis grumbled something unintelligible, making Beni’s impish face crease into a victorious grin.

“Beni, hey! Beni! Beni!” Why can’t she hear me?

The walls readjusted to close off my view of the outside world, forcing me back. The only light came through the hole in the wall to my right.

The transport began to move again.

I brushed stands of hair away from my eyes.

Beni had turned into a giant.

And everyone who had walked by was just as huge. Did all of Watch Two get hit by some weird alien virus or growth ray? Or…

No…

They didn’t change.

I’m the one who–

Ice shot through my veins. My heart thumped like a hyper rabbit with the zoomies.

I never changed back.

I'm still two inches tall.

“Oh no…”

I leaned up on my knees, riding the motions, gripped the rippled edge, and looked through the hole.

Fabric.

A wide walkway of dark brown fabric that looked like leather stretched from my transporter to a wall made of identical material. Since the opening was at an angle, the walkway took up half of my view, so I shifted to get a better look toward my right.

I looked up.

My jaw slacked. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me.”

Silver zipper teeth left open showcased a slice of a black shirt that read ‘Not Without My Coffee’ of which I could only make out a few letters, blond hair, and a giant set of nostrils above a chiseled chin framed by a stoic expression.

I’d know that shirt and expression anywhere.

My pulse quickened.

I drew my hand along one of the lines, feeling the floor shift beneath me in reaction to my touch, then looked at my own palm.

They matched.

The exact same lines adorned the wall behind me.

These creases weren’t part of some kind of flooring.

They were creating folds.

Skin folds.

The warmth came from body heat.

This was no heated transport apparatus.

These were hands.

Specifically Louis’ hands.

It hit me like a wookie punch to the face.

I was being carried in the cupped hands of my partner who’d become the size of the Empire State building.

I flopped back to sit in the center of his palm, my heart racing, “No way,” My trembling fingers fished the skysprecht from my hoodie pocket, put it in my ear, and turned it on, “...Louis?”

“Finally figured it out, huh? Took you long enough.”

I heard his voice both beyond his fingers and in my ear. My question came out in a strained tone, “Where am I? And please don’t say you returned to normal without me and are now carrying me.”

He paused, then said nonchalantly, “Okay, I won’t.”

My eye twitched, “Are you fucking kidding me?! I can’t change back on my own!”

“That’s the point.”

I blinked, “I’m sorry, what?” I leaned back, bracing my hands on the surface, “You want me to stay like this?”

“Just for a while.”

“I don’t belie– Why?!”

“You said you wanted peace, so I’m making that happen.”

“This is not what I had in mind. Does Rachel know what you did?”

“This part was her idea.”

#fan fiction #writing #writeblr #m/m #Will and Louis #getting in deep series #Characters are Peachnewts.#I just love them so much that I want to put them into Situations. :)

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kriswantstowrite · 9 months

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⚜️ The Heart, The White, and The Herbicide

• General Audiences, M/NB, Dazai x Original Non-Binary Character

• Summary: Dazai had never been one to celebrate neither Valentine’s day nor White day, has never been one to understand either.

• This work has been cross-posted on AO3 under the username KrisWantsToWrite.

[ID: Picture of red hearts filling the image.]

Dazai had never been one to celebrate neither Valentine’s day nor White day, has never been one to understand either.

Expectations were pretty, purple flowers. They start out small, innocent, ornamental, like a wish for a thoughtful gift. Next thing you know, the yellow-green stems have turned dark brown, the green is crushing your ribcage, and it’s heavy, it’s heavy and you can’t breathe anymore.

He always cuts their throats—Poisons their xylems with Paraquat and Simazine, watches as their limbs go numb, as all hopes to bloom vanishes when tremors wreck their body and their hearts fasten, their breaths slow down. Dusk bleeds in sympathy, but he’s never there to watch it. He’s a clay man, filled with mud and moist soil. If he ever watches the dusk bleed, their vines, rhizomes, and runners will twirl his locks, whisper in his ear the questions of either the mindless or the endless, they’ll question his mind, they’ll question the skin hidden beneath the bandages, they’ll question his hollow eyes, they’ll question the guns in his pockets.

So, it would be an understatement to say he’s never bought White day presents before.

But fate is cruel and red, and its strings wrap tightly around his stomach, twisting and turning at the mere sight of the small, glittery blue present box. He didn’t need any words exiting Haru’s mouth to know exactly what it was for.

“Why get me a present? We’re not even dating.”

“It’s just a platonic little thing.” They shrug, as if what they just said is answer enough. As if that makes any sense.

“But I didn’t get you anything. I’m not going to.”

They worry their lip at Dazai’s cold tone, play with their fingers, look away from the gardening scissors in Dazai’s hands, pretend it’s not there.

“I know, I just…I saw that in a store I go to sometimes, and I thought of you. I was planning on giving it to you anyway, Valentine’s day or not. Besides, it’s not—It’s not honmei-chocos or anything…”

It’s a reluctant motion when he pulls the box by its ribbon, putting it in his pocket. He goes over all the herbicide options in his head, ends up with muttering a “Whatever”, ends up with walking away. It should be a decent amount of heartbreak.

Once he's out of their sight, he seeks refuge in the nearest street lamp, his hands frantically searching for the small blue box. The smooth velvet is so soft he believes he’s been cursed, but the roughness of the glittery, golden ribbons shatter him back to reality.

He pulls at the careful wrappings with something he refuses to call hunger, refuses to call want, need, curiosity, interest, fights back the urge to gulp, to take any deep breaths, to let his heart beat any faster than it already is, to let any non-existing audience get their hands on a weak point, a shred of evidence, a confession just waiting to be mocked.

Inside had laid an antique lighter, with delicate carvings of red crabs all across its rusty bod. It was polished as could be, filled with Haru’s favorite oil, the one he could always smell on their work clothes.

His heart burns when he holds it in his hands, and he chalks it up to hatred, anger, frustration, never names it for what it actually is, never admits how he’d laid awake that whole night, staring at a flame.

Dazai had never been one to celebrate neither Valentine’s day nor White day, has never been one to understand either. Even when Haru’s lips burn on his, burn his charcoal hollows to activation point, his veins still remain linuron-poisoned to the brim.

After all, there was no reason to let himself get addicted to the sweet, grape-like smell—It was only a matter of time before the entire land dried out. That’s a fancy way of saying Haru was eventually going to get tired of his sorry ass, and leave him behind. Some events are only eventual.

And yet, every Valentine’s day, Haru took his hand in theirs, dragged him across the city in excitement, smiled, giggled, laughed like a burst of light—As if he wasn’t just a bad omen. They’d make flower crowns for him—Give him boxes after boxes of chocolate, kiss his cheek gently, and whisper little confessions of love. It made Dazai’s stomach twist like a wet cloth being wrung, made him go cold, go hot, go numb. He’d clutch their hand in return, holding it loosely the same way he barely held onto his lifeline. He never bought anything in return. Haru never whispered anything about the bandages.

When he had just become the Boss Of Port Mafia, the most terrifyingly busy man in the whole nation, too many days had gone by with him trapped behind a desk, trapped in meetings and his mind trapped with only the most relentless of schemes. And he doesn’t even hear it, when a soft knock gets tapped against his door.

Gin hands them to him later: A box of honmei-chocos now melted around the edges, A bottle of sake—The brand he likes the most, but Chuuya refuses to let him buy any of since it was too cheap, too “God knows what they put in these things nowadays”--and a crab plush.

“I thought you might like the company >~<,” Said a small note on the little plush, adorned with drawn stars and drawn hearts.

He’d never expected his throat to tighten like that.

Oh.

So that’s what Valentine’s day’s for.

And yet, when trapped in his work cacoon, he did not raise his head enough to notice White day just passing by.

February after February febricitated along the lanes of delirium, and March after March marched past its streets. But warm temperatures were too ideal for kudzus to grow above anything else, so he digs deep, deep into the dirt, scratches the thick roots, watches his nails bleed, watches the flowers bleed out the last of their lives. But Februaries weren’t the only things fabricating, and he finds himself craving, begging, pleading for vines to press at his chest, to choke, to suffocate, to be smothered by the attention and affection he couldn’t handle, and if they were to twirl his locks in their slim fingers, gently ask in his ear the questions of either the mindless or the endless, question his mind, question the skin hidden beneath his bandages, question his hollow eyes, question the guns in his pockets, he would answer and beg them to ask more, if it meant he was allowed to get addicted to the sweet, grape-like smell, if it meant Haru would stay.

So, he thinks of proposing. He lets the kudzus grow over him.

He’s desperate for a “Yes”, perhaps too desperate, and he falls into a lane of Practice-Makes-Perfect. Throws together folder after folder of how a wedding should be celebrated, beheads any option that would make Haru’s eyebrows go lower, keeps whatever would make them go up, stitches and sews emotions to the pages, not his, he doesn’t have any, he has only desperation.

This is the first time his brain has denied the No option before the Yes.

And yet, he’s surprised.

They’re mindlessly playing with the red of his scarf, and he’s burning his hand in the auburn of their hair. It’s the quiet after a laugh-out-loud joke, and their head is resting on his shoulder, as if his presence is comforting. As if.

He’s hoping they can’t hear the beat of his heart, when he leans to their ear, when he whispers it, when he smirks to look the exact opposite of what he is.

Surprised. They’re crying and covering their mouth and saying yes so many more times than Dazai deserves and their eyes are wide as if it’s possible for them to be any more surprised than Dazai is, and he’s burning, he’s burning with relief and febricitation and so much more that he can’t even name so he holds them, he holds them because somewhere down the lane, that has become what he does when there is too much to name, too much to deny the feeling of.

(Is he even allowed to feel this happy?)

Day after day rolled down the stone steps, and his practice-made-perfect wedding plans crashed down waterfalls in return. Despite the neat, fool-proof folders he withheld, the entirety of their February 14th had been spent choosing the wedding cake alone, from the very dawn to the tenth hour of the night, and even with that Haru had disliked every option they’ve been presented with.

Of course, it had been foolish of him. He should have known his perfect scheming will never be his saving grace when around Haru. That’s just how they were. Warm.

He found himself exhausted in his office, his legs gossiping mean rumors about the tiles of Yokohama’s streets. He looks away from their creaking mouths, already fed up with them. He glances at the sharp hands of the clock on the wall, threatening to behead the 23rd hour of the day sometime soon. He’s never considered buying White day presents before. Imagined buying a Valentine’s day present even less.

But.

Knock. Knock.

The door opens.

“Oh, Daz-!”

Dazai doesn’t stop for chit-chats—Not when there’s so little left till the violent tearing of calendar papers is to fill the air. He grabs their hand, and drags them to the highest sky there is to reach.

“Wh-Where are we going??”

"Don’t ask any questions, Haru kun!!” He nags, pushing them through the elevator doors. “You’ll ruin the surprise!!”

"There's a surprise??" Their face turns to look at him.

"What did I just tell you??"

Ding.

The elevator’s doors close.

The wind was all but a breeze, carrying enough warmth from the ocean to soothe the cold of a spring night. Still, it's better to be safe than self-deprecating. Times like this, at least. He shrugs his longer coat off onto Haru’s bare shoulders, doesn’t stop fumbling with it until it’s covering most of the Pikachu saying R-rated curses on their tank top.

It’s certainly not cold enough for him to share the scarf, too—But he does it anyway, mostly because it’s adorable to look at Haru with most of their face smothered by the warm red.

They push the fabric down their nose, pouting up at Dazai with a frown he can’t help but giggle at.

Before he’s done giggling, something else has already grabbed their attention.

Millions of lights stretch into the horizon, illuminating the skyline, holding all the life this city had to offer.

And yet—Haru did not seem interested in them for the slightest bit. Instead, their eyes were fixated on the small table propped up near the railings, where fresh roses were wilting inside a vase, and candles were burning the beginning of their lives.

They look back at him, eyes unsure whether to look into his right eye or the bandages on his left, mouth a gaping hole.

“Come on!!” Before they can say a word, before Dazai somehow manages to shatter a dream-shaped reality, he drags them towards the table, handing them a steaming hot sandwich.

“Is this…”

A valentine’s day dinner?

He knows without them saying it, but he’s too used to herbicide to not immediately dodge it. He’s not ungrateful--it’s best to be dodged than to be shattered.

“Of course, it’s that top-notch cheap sandwich from your favorite street vendor~. When was the last time we even got to get back to that part of the city?” And of course, he knows the answer best, it’s been ever since he became The Boss. The too busy man who doesn’t spend the amount of time he should with his soon to be spouse, the man who Haru must have gotten tired of waiting for at some point, must have gone to get some sandwiches on their own, breaking their tradition, cause when has he ever deserved-

He’s being hugged.

“Ha-“

“I love you, I love you, I love you!”

Dazai’s never bought any Valentine's nor White day gifts, and the first time he does, it's rushed, it's last minute, it's store-bought, schemeless, thoughtless. It’s simple, it’s a simple, mere box of honmei-chocos, it’s a box of chocolates he didn’t even make himself.

And he’s—He’s being hugged for it. He’s being hugged for something—Something so simple.

And it—It feels like a witch's spell. It feels like that delirium again. His heart is racing, his lower lip is shaking, he feels like a schoolgirl whose chocolates were just accepted by their picky crush.

He feels like a schoolgirl who can't wait for the 14th of March.

He was—

He was waiting.

He was waiting for the 14th of March.

The only time in the world that wasn’t consumed by void and void alone.

The only future in this world he could vividly imagine—Him, and Haru, walking down a street. Eating ice cream. Laughing. And a gift in Haru’s pockets. For him.

Oh.

So that’s what White day’s for.

"I love you, too~."

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x oc #sfw #writing #bsd fanfic #dazai bsd #dazai osamu x original character #dazai x oc #Dazai Osamu bsd #Original Character #valentine's day #valentine #White day #valentines day

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thedeadpie · 1 year

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Thank you Tumblr for autogenerating a celebratory image for this. It is an honour to finally reach this milestone.

No longer am I just one of the masses, I am now a successful individual, one who has reached a fame unlike that of any other.

I cannot return to the life of the commoners, for I do not even remember how it is to go outside without being instantly swarmed by fans, longing for autographs.

But this newfound fame is not just a blessing. It also bears a curse.

For how shall I ever know if I am actually interesting, and a person that people want to be with (I am super interesting and cool to be around, but still). How shall I know that they aren't just around me, hoping my fame will rub off on them (again ignoring the fact that I am super cool and interesting).

This suffering is unlike any other, but still, I would not choose to go back. For I have grown accustomed to the life of a celebrity now. I am not just a person any longer, I am a role model for some, a beacon of hope for others. My actions are looked at as that of a better man, as something to strive towards. I cannot let all the people looking up to me down, I have to remain as their pillar, regardless of the curses this fame bears.

I'll have to cut this post short though, as my agent is telling me that the secret world government is awaiting my decision on whether to solve world hunger or rerelease the original goncharov (1973).

So thanks tumblr, thanks for the 5 reblogs. It is definitely the most important milestone I've had yet, and one that will forever influence how I, and many others, live their lives.

#5 reblogs #tumblr milestone #thank you #stardom #fame #famous #celebrity #celebs #i am still not entirely sure what tags i should use #hope I'm not misusing any #thank u #thanks tumblr #role model #text post #txt #secret world government #world government

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sultansprincess · 1 year

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I posted 21 times in 2022

That's 21 more posts than 2021!

7 posts created (33%)

14 posts reblogged (67%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bombshell123

@rphelperblog

@123endor

@gurlbye-1

@skysnipsw

I tagged 16 of my posts in 2022

Only 24% of my posts had no tags

#bullet train roleplay - 14 posts

#bullet train oc - 13 posts

#amira sultan oc - 12 posts

#amira sultan - 10 posts

#amira x the son - 2 posts

#bulllet train - 1 post

#he's also the fun uncle - 1 post

#father-daughter relationship - 1 post

#she is struggling - 1 post

#// specify muse! - 1 post

Longest Tag: 28 characters

#father-daughter relationship

My Top Posts in 2022:

Out of character: roleplay starter call!

Interact with this post for a roleplay starter from this badass Muslim professor!

1 note - Posted August 18, 2022

Out of character: Hello! Welcome to my roleplay and character muse blog for my Bullet Train character! Below are my rules for roleplaying!

RULES

1.) Be kind! That should go without saying.

2.) Do not post inappropriate messages or images.

3.) Do not spam.

4.) Please refrain from swearing or using vulgarity in any way.

5.) I do not roleplay NSFW (Not Safe For Work) content. This is strictly prohibited. I am aware that Bullet Train involves very mature topics (namely gore and course language), so I am okay with roleplaying these topics, but only if they are PG-13, though I might be okay with certain curse words. Please be understanding and respectful when discussing this with me.

6.) Because Amira is Muslim (like myself), I will not engage in any roleplay scenarios that involve her doing anything against her religion, which is Islam. This includes dating and some things that are considered normal in non-Muslim societies.

PREFERENCES

1. I am flexible but please do not try to control my character.

2. I prefer to roleplay in third person, but I also like to roleplay limited, typing as if I am the character, and I am flexible about the way that I roleplay, so I am open to discussion.

3. If you want to roleplay with me, then comment on this post or reblog it! You can also private message me, but I would prefer for you to comment or reblog!

4. I do not track my roleplays and replies, nor am I picky about the way that people organize their blog. If we begin a roleplay and you respond a week or a month later, I will still try to keep the roleplay going! If I have lost the drive or inspiration, I will let you know. All of my posts are also fully available to interact with, so don't be shy to comment or reblog! Roleplay is supposed to be fun, so don't stress yourself out! As long as you follow my rules you'll be all set!

That's it! Have fun!

Sincerely,

Layla

1 note - Posted August 17, 2022

COPYRIGHT CLAIM: This fan-made character belongs to me @arabianflowers and is original! Any attempt to plagiarize will be met with consequences.

DISCLAIMER: I only own my characters. Any other characters mentioned as well as certain pre-existing Bullet Train lore belong to David Leitch and Zak Olkewicz.

PLEASE read my rules and preferences before interacting!

┊┊. ✧. ┊ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⁭ ⋆ ★ ︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚. ┊ ┊ ┊. ➶ ˚ ┊ ┊ ┊

CHARACTER INTRODUCTION

FULL BIRTH NAME: Amira Sultan

TITLE: Dr. Sultan

ALIAS: The Princess

CURRENT AGE: 25 years

SPECIES: Human

GENDER: Cisgender Female

HERITAGE: Pakistani

ETHNICITY: Asian

RELIGION: Islam

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

OCCUPATION: Published mystery/crime author under the pseudonym Sara, professional Martial Artist, English Professor at Harvard University

PLACE OF BIRTH: Massachusetts, America

PLACE OF RESIDENCE: Kyoto, Japan

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

PORTRAYER: Mehwish Hayat

CHARACTER ARC SUMMARY: Amira Sultan was born and raised as Muslim in Massachusetts, America. Her father was a successful Pakistani businessman named Ali Sultan and her mother was a successful Pakistani housewife named Khadijah Shaheed. Amira’s paternal great grandmother Amina was trampled to death during the Partition in Pakistan and her paternal great grandfather Amir escaped with his daughter Aisha when she was two years old. Unfortunately, Amir died due to cancer and sixteen-year-old Aisha was left to fend for herself. At the age of eighteen years old, she came under the care of Yousef, a merchant who offered her food and shelter, and they married three years later. They planned to have Khadija and she was born two years after they married. Khadija grew up and met Ali in college. After graduation, they married and moved to America one year before Amira was born in order to pursue a better life for her.

Growing up, Amira had trouble with bullies at school and took Martial Arts classes to defend herself. She also discovered that she had a natural talent for English and prose. Her parents wanted her to go into the medical field, but when she turned fifteen years old, she decided that she wanted to go into the English field. Her parents were devastated and convinced that she was going to ruin her life. They tried to make her study surgery, but when she was awarded an English scholarship to Oxford University at seventeen years old, they were ecstatic and stopped trying to sway her decision.

Amira wrote a murder mystery short story for a college assignment during her first year and it was so good that her professor suggest that she publish it professionally, but she was afraid that because she was a Pakistani woman, no one would read it. She began to publish murder mystery and crime novels under the pseudonym Sara and her books began to achieve mediocre fame when she was around twenty-three years old after she became an English Language Arts and Literature Professor at Harvard University.

Around this same time, Amira met a young American man whom anyone only knew as The Son. She became the only person besides his family to know his real name. Amira and The Son fell in love and got engaged just a year after knowing each other. Unfortunately, because of his family history, Amira’s parents were unhappy with the engagement and prevented them from seeing each other. Amira and The Son’s relationship was strained when she met his sister known as The Prince and they did not get along. This tension only worsened when The Son was arrested conveniently just before he was supposed to marry Amira. Amira was devastated and took her anger out on her parents rather than The Prince, who had been trying to sabotage her brother and his fiance from the beginning. Amira wanted to move out and leave her parents because she was so distraught.

Conveniently, she received an anonymous invitation a year later to Tokyo, Japan to promote her book and accepted it just to spite her parents. Little did she know that she would run into both The Son and The Prince on what was known as The Bullet Train that was running through Japan.

PERSONALITY AND CHARACTER ANALYSIS: Amira Sultan is strong-willed and bold. She is soft-spoken and peace-making, but she is also confident and intelligent. Many people underestimate her because of her feminine demeanor. She is judged for her skin color in non-Pakistani areas. However, she always uses these setbacks to her advantage. Her bilingualism and talent in the English Language Arts and Literature field makes her very well-rounded. That combined with her Martial Arts skills and her ability to catch people off-guard makes her a massive threat.

She is a devout Muslim which shapes many of her beliefs and how she deals with situations. She is also very calm and can talk her way out of almost any situation. Violence is a last resort for her, but even when she is forced to resort to it, she refuses to use weapons: only classic Martial Arts. Her fatal flaw is her inability to manage her emotions. She often bottles up her feelings until she can no longer handle it, which results in explosive outbursts. She also overestimates herself sometimes, which often gets her into trouble. She has a strong desire to help people and this is often reflected in her writing as well as in her actions. Her overconfidence and innate drive to help people will be her downfall. Some know her as Amira. Some know her as Sara. The Bullet Train passengers know her as The Princess.

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END OF CHARACTER PROFILE

1 note - Posted August 17, 2022

Ladybug: I've already sent good vibes your way… they’re coming. There’s nothing you can do to stop them.

Amira: This is the most threatening way I’ve ever been cheered up.

2 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Amira: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?

The Prince: Stop romanticizing the past.

3 notes - Posted August 22, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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