#like i have nowhere near the fucking influence
Text
ngl it's hard to like neil gaiman when his hordes of fans on tumblr frequently harass people into leaving tumblr or deactivating just bc he's decided to be a pretentious dick to someone asking him a question (99.9% of the time the question is rather harmless, and even if it wasn't, it doesn't justify that level of harassment)
and instead of being responsible with his platform/influence and condemning this behaviour or simply ignoring people who send questions, he keeps doing it!
#anti neil gaiman#like i have nowhere near the fucking influence#but if i hear a peep about people getting hate bc of me#i say something#its not hard#personcole#neilman#anti neilman
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Have we as a society lost our sense of acceptable public behavior?
Picture it: me, a swanky bistro, and an elegant patio adorned by the warm glow of string lights. I'm having a nice dinner—just me and my current favorite menu—until a couple is seated near me. It didn't take me long to hear that they were celebrating a six month anniversary and—given their gradually escalating volume—it was a night out at my favorite restaurant that was not going to fix their obvious relationship problems. In the short time it took the fresh rosemary rolls and whipped butter to arrive at their table, their loud talking had become peaks of yelling quelled only briefly by an unsatisfactorily hushed "quit talking so loud" or an ironic "you're embarrassing me."
Do you hate them yet? Because I definitely did. Except unlike you, I can take care of this; after all, knowledge of my methods is becoming more widespread. All I have to do is wait the thirty seconds it will inevitably take for the volume to boil over yet again.
"I can't take you anywhere!"
There she is again. Time to work my magic—
"Same shit again! I can't fucking take you anywhere! Everywhere we go: "miss, could you quiet down", and "sir, could you tell your date to stop yelling.""
"I'm not the one screaming f-bombs in public places! You need to learn some manners!"
*Whoosh.*
"Babe, I just can't have a conversation with you if you always yell." Already he's speaking at a much quieter volume.
"I just never feel like you're listening to me."—and she's also followed suit. Maybe that was all I needed to do, now I got my peace and quiet... but I'm not one to stop once I've started, and I suppose I'd rather not disappoint you either—after all, this isn't very interesting yet, is it. She continues: "I told you to dress nice and all you can manage is a t-shirt and shorts."
"I love you babe, but you can't tell me that you showing that much skin in a place like this is appropriate either."
No one sees it, but a slight grin crosses my face. I wave my hand and...
*Whoosh.* A light breeze passes through and their outfits shift.
"I'm dressed showing skin?! You're not even wearing a shirt."
"Babe, you're basically just wearing a sports bra and shorts."
"I look good. You don't work out enough to pull off not wearing a shirt in public."
*Whoosh.* A light breeze again. He's sporting some nice light muscle: square pecs, a nice six-pack, and some toned arms.
"Babe, I know I'm nowhere near my bulking goals but I know I look good enough to pull off being shirtless. Look, if you're gonna be like this, maybe we reschedule and have this dinner when you're not on your period."
...
...
...Look. What I did here may have been inappropriate... but would you expect anything less from me. I don't claim to be ethical, and I'm pretty sure you are well-aware of my biases by now... I'm not proud of what I did... I'm not... Okay maybe I am.
The ebb and flow of the conversation took a radical tone when one masculine voice was met for the first time by another. "Well then it's a good thing I'm not a girl."
"I guess that's true. Why would I even say that?"
"Because you're trying to avoid the subject again. Between you're time at the gym and your time at work, I never see you."
"I can't help it. At least I have a job."
*Whoosh.*
"Being an influencer is a job. I just wanna know how you can spend so much time working out when your job is being a personal trainer."
"My body is my sales pitch. I've build so much muscle now my co-workers are telling me I could enter a physique competition. Maybe if you worked out more, you'd actually get followers, and make money."
*Whoosh.*
"That's why I wanted to come here with you. Ever since I started working out with you, I have been gaining followers just as fast as I've been gaining muscle. I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you: I have 1 million followers."
"Babe, that's great news. I can't believe it!"
"Yeah, and there's more. The videos that gained the most traction online were the ones I shot with you. So I wanna go in a different direction with my page from now on."
"Wait, you've built it up by yourself. Why would you change it?"
"I wanna make it a couples page. Health, fitness, and gay pride."
"Most people dating for three years usually get proposals involving a ring."
"Do you wanna do this with me?"
"Yes, of course!"
A couple in my favorite bistro rise and embrace beside their patio table and share a passionate kiss. They seem happy, although I sit there and wonder if they'd be interested in a third for the night.
Have we as a society lost our sense of acceptable public behavior?
No. Not in this case. It could absolutely be much worse.
218 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay wow I was not expecting my kittypet fae post to take off overnight like this, but I'm glad you all like it! I've been thinking about kittypet culture so this is what I think is the reasoning behind the beliefs.
Kittypets are often well groomed and well fed no matter the season, while wild cats are often groomed there's a softness to kittypet pelts that you don't find in wild pelts. Along with pretty accessories that a wild cat would have no clue what they are like bows. As such they start to seem a bit uncanny valley because they look like you but not Quite. Especially because of more purebred cats who have brighter pelts or unusual colors or strange muzzles or weird ears. Which helps spread the thought that kittypets aren't fully cats, but something similar, something different but the same. Firestar as a purebred orange cat is just a lot naturally brighter or vivid then the more muted oranges that appear in the wild, and that scares cats.
Kittypets also like to share with their wild friends, they see their friend skinny and cold and want to bring them inside where they can get food and get warm. So they tend to offer it pretty often, however cats that do this start to get used to the ease of food and warmth of the den and find it harder to stay wild or to stay away from twolegs. Some kittypets may even aid twolegs in trapping their friends for the sake of protecting their friends from the harsh outdoors. Which everyone knows once you've bonded with a twoleg whether you want to or not your transformation into one of them is nearly complete.
Kittypet food is also meant to fill a cat as its been fine-tuned to fit the needs of a cat so even if a cat doesn't think it tastes as good as mouse, it still fills them in ways they may struggle to get with hunting. So cats that risk taking a bit start to go back for more, especially in harder hunting series. Sure sparrow may be a bit tastier but if its a sparrow once a week during leafbare or kittypet food every day, cats are going to be tempted.
With kittypets not being in a war culture and often just chilling beyond mild spats means there's more room for other activities like a lot more gossip and stories, news travels fast between cats because kittypets are horrendous gossips which means if you fuck over a kittypet, every other kittypet is going to hear about it and shame you for it. To clan cats it's shocking because kittypet news travels throughout an entire twolegplace and even beyond it thanks to some kittypets that travel in like trucks and stuff, so it can seem like despite being nowhere near the original kittypet, everyone still magically knows how you messed up. This extends to their friends as well, if you beat up a cat that the kittypets consider a friend over a border dispute all the kittypets are going to be like "hey why'd you do that that was mean" and potentially chase you away.
Now for names is something I think is interesting because kittypets are never really like "my names Mouse but the twolegs call me Mittens" so clearly twoleg names have some priority here for kittypets, while the significance of this can very between whatever you want really, its clearly important. So if you get taken in by a twoleg to heal a wound and the twoleg starts calling you Pants, then suddenly all the kittypets call you by that name. No matter how much you insist your name is Twigpounce, you're Pants now. Plus if you're actively stuck with kittypets, you'll start going by Pants as well. Thus the kittypet's steal your name.
Cats that come back from twolegs always come back changed, from how they talk, to how they walk, to what food they eat, to the things they say. They can still shake off the influence and return to the wild, but they'll always be a bit off, a bit different. Everyone knows Tallstar was pet-touched a long time ago from how he acts, but everyone politely doesn't bring it up.
Avoid kittypets! They're tricksters that look like us but they're liars with their fake mice and fake warmth! Do not trust! They aren't true cats! They're something different! Something more dangerous! Do not be tricked!
Also Longtail still throws down with Rusty because he's an idiot and also probably hoping that this will make the scary fae child leave his clan alone.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
So! In order to keep myself from losing my goddamn mind in the aftermath of that G-Witch episode (how are we supposed to wait two weeks for the next episode I swear to fuck), I want to take a second and focus on something this show has done exceptionally well, but that I haven’t really seen talked about at all. Namely, the fact that Suletta is one of the best examples of an overpowered protagonist I’ve ever seen.
And yes, she is canonically overpowered. As long as she has Aerial by her side, she can curb-stomp pretty much every opponent without breaking a sweat. Time and again, she goes up against impossible odds and wipes the floor with them The best duelist at school? Chump. Facing multiple opponents alone and outnumbered? Child’s play. And honestly, I was starting to get annoyed by it around the end of the first season. How are we supposed to believe Suletta’s ever going to be in danger if she’s so ludicrously stronger than everyone else?
And then The Slap happened, and everything turns upside-down.
See, what makes season 1′s cliffhanger ending so goddamn powerful isn’t just the sight of our cheerful bumbling protagonist liquifying a living person into red paste in front of her horrified fiance. It’s not just the realization of how deep Prospera’s manipulation has twisted Suletta’s sense of identity. No, the real secret behind The Slap’s brilliance is that it retroactively makes every single moment of Overpowered Suletta fucking terrifying. Suddenly, we realize that her overwhelming strength in battle is a direct result of Prospera’s influence, raising her to be the perfect pawn in her little scheme. The reason she’s able to knock the socks off every single opponent she faces isn’t just Latent Protag Syndrome; it’s because her mother crafted her into a relentless warrior with the strength to destroy any obstacle in the path to her revenge. Suletta’s strength in battle isn’t just overwhelming; it’s dangerous, to herself and everyone around her. And the second she has to unleash that strength in a situation more serious than a no-casualties school sporting match, it becomes instantly, horrifyingly clear that she is in no way ready to grapple with the great responsibility that comes with such great power.
In other words, what first seemed like just a case of another anime protagonist winning every fight because reasons turns on its head and makes that overpowered nature a source of fear, both for the audience and for Miorine. So instead of ending up a boring tension-killer where we’re never afraid for Suletta’s safety, the fact that she’s capable of such force becomes the most critical source of tension and conflict driving her and Miorine’s story in the second season. Suletta being so overpowered is an explicit character flaw, at least as long as Prospera’s claws are in her. Because just because she can punch away any physical threat in her path doesn’t mean she’s not vulnerable in countless other areas. She may be the strongest in a fight, but she has nowhere near the strength of character to deal with the political schemes and emotional burdens that come about as a result of that strength. All that skill on the battlefield doesn’t mean shit when you can’t see how that skill is being manipulated for dark ends, or causing you to take on stress and trauma you have no healthy way of coping with. Suletta can smash her way to victory in any fight, and yet she’s the most vulnerable, least protected person in the entire cast, in no small part thanks to the forces that made her so strong in the first place.
There’s a reason characters like Saitama from One Punch Man and Mob from Mob Psycho 100 are so beloved, despite being so overpowered. ONE knows that in order to make an overpowered character interesting, you need to give them struggles beyond the scope of their powers to fix. Saitama can punch a mountain in half, but he can’t punch his way out of existential ennui; that’s just as much of a struggle for him as any normal person. Mob’s psychic powers can’t solve his emotional turmoil or provide him the perfect path toward maturity; he has to figure that out himself. They are overwhelmingly strong in fights, but the primary conflict of their stories has very little to do with those fights and everything to do with their growth as people. They’re stories about how even being the strongest person alive doesn’t protect you from the challenges of life that everyone on this planet faces, and their journeys to self-actualization are enormously compelling as a result. No one remembers the overpowered exploits of Isekai Harem Protagonist du jour; everyone remembers watching Saitama and Mob slowly find their way forward in life, one simple step at a time.
Suletta, in my eyes, is very much in the same vein. Like Saitama and Mob and all the best overpowered protagonists, her writing understands that being incredibly skilled in one area doesn’t mean you can’t be challenged in others- and in Mob’s case especially, how that incredible skill can actually be the biggest obstacle for the challenge you actually need to overcome. Suletta’s skill in battle is made compelling by her lack of that same skill in other areas, and the ultimate conflict of Gundam Witch is a conflict she cannot punch her way out of. If she’s going to survive this chaos and live happily every after with Miorine, she will need to struggle to overcome her years of conditioning and emotional uncertainty. She will need to struggle just as Mob struggled, just as Saitama struggled, not just to learn the skills she hasn’t developed yet, but to push back against the influence that resulted in her being so freakishly strong in the first place. Suletta is an overpowered protagonist who’s overpowered nature is, itself, the greatest challenge she will have to overcome in order to truly save herself and the people she loves. And I think that’s really damn neat.
#anime#the anime binge-watcher#tabw#mobile suit gundam: the witch from mercury#gundam witch#gundam witch from mercury#g-witch#suletta mercury#miorine rembran#suletta x miorine#prospera mercury
738 notes
·
View notes
Text
I've Got You - A Joel Miller Story
Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc
joel miller masterlist
She and Joel are partners in business. Nothing more. But they’ll both have to come to terms with this lie they’ve been telling themselves when something unspeakable happens.
warnings | 18+ angst, very dark themes (near SA, canon-typical violence), smut
Joel was difficult to talk to, so it was a good thing she didn’t have much to say. She figured that’s why they worked so well together.
She had been in the Boston QZ since she was a teenager, since the beginning of all this really. Had set up a solid business in smuggling, finding it easy to go out into the open since she had nothing to lose, all her family gone in the first few days of the outbreak. It had hardened her, being on her own for so long, so when she found out she had competition from two newcomers, she was quick to make Joel’s and Tess’ acquaintance, knife in hand. If it hadn’t been for Tess’ diplomatic nature, she’s certain her and Joel would have killed each other then and there, two loose cannons butting heads. But, they had worked it out, merging their “business” and soon enough, they were the predominant smugglers of Boston, exerting a wide and powerful influence when they needed to.
Tess handled the deals, while she and Joel handled the actual runs. They could both go days without speaking, trailing each other along the crumbling highways, filling their packs with salvaged goods to take back. She didn’t know much about him, just that he had lost something big, just like her, just like most folks still alive. But they were comfortable with each other, an unwavering trust that had developed over months of successful jobs.
They were wrapping up another successful trip, about two day’s out from the QZ. They’d stop at Bill and Frank’s tomorrow, get a trade in before heading back. Night was starting to slip over the woods and they had set up camp in a thicket of trees. She took the first watch while Joel hunched into the side of his sleeping bag, trying to get some sleep. She blames it on herself, really, for letting her guard down when she should’ve been on alert. But they had never run into trouble in this area, and, to be quite honest, she was fucking exhausted after five days on the road. Even sitting up, hands around her shins, she was starting to fade in and out of sleep.
That didn’t last long though, when suddenly she was being yanked up and back by her hair. Her shriek was cut off quick by a knife being pressed flat against her throat. She could feel the man’s beard scratching against the side of her face as he held her up against him. There were two others, one of whom had his gun trained on Joel who had been startled awake by the sound. Hunters, from the looks of them.
Joel had sat up, holding his palms out, his eyes darting between the mouth of the gun and her. The man with the gun spoke first.
“Don’t want no trouble, pal.” She could see the muscles in Joel’s cheek tick as he sized the man up.
“Doesn’t look that way to me, pal.” The man holding her up chuckled.
“Now, now, no need to get all worked up. Just gonna want some of whatever you got in those packs.” He paused for a moment, bringing his other hand to caress down the side of her body. She shuddered under his sickening touch. “And maybe a little turn with your girl here.”
Joel was on his feet fast at that, but the other two men moved quick to grab hold of him. He struggled in their grip but the one punched him, hard, in the stomach, forcing him to double over.
She writhed under the man’s grip but he pressed the blade firmer into her throat.
“Easy, little bird. Why don’t you and I go have some alone time, huh? And if you’re real nice to me, I’ll think about not blowing your boyfriend’s brains out? That sound good to you?” She huffs as he jostles her in his grip, keeping a sneer across her face even though she nods. What the fuck else can she do?
“Be right back, gentlemen. Don’t y’all go nowhere.” He hoists her around, shoving her forward until they’re deeper into the woods, the glow of their camping lantern just a speck amongst the trees. He throws her down to the ground, quick to straddle her hips, pressing a knee into each of her wrists to keep her prone underneath him. There’s a rushing in her ears and her whole body’s shaking as he wrenches her jeans and underwear down her thighs. The man grunts behind her.
“Such a pretty little thing, aren’t ya? Think I ought to leave you with a little souvenir of our time together, huh?” She has no clue what he means, his voice sounding muffled as her mind continues to go hazy. But then there’s a searing pain in her low back and she realizes he’s carving something into her skin. She lets out a broken scream but he cuts her off by shoving a wad of cloth into her mouth. It’s agonizing until it’s not anymore, until her body goes slack under his hold. She realizes he’s carving letters into her skin. He’s carving initials. He finishes his work, she hears him throw the knife down beside them. He whistles low.
“Even prettier, little bird. Giving me something real nice to look at while I fuck you.” She feels frozen, numb, only startling slightly at the sound of gunshots in the distance. Her mind offers up a single thought like a mote of dust floating in the dim light. Joel. She picks up the fight again, as best she can, squirming under his hold, but he grabs a hold of her hair, forcing her head back.
“Watch it, little bird. Or I won’t be so sweet to you no more.” He drops her head, her face smearing in the rotting leaves of the forest floor.
She can hear him undoing his belt in the gloom and she braces herself for what’s coming, her whole body tensing. But just then, another gunshot rings out, and she feels the man above her go slack, falling off to the side. Her wrists ache where he had been pressing them into the dirt. She heaves, huge rolling gasps leaving her shuddering ribcage as she tries to press herself up.
She hears her name being called through the rushing in her ears, feels a pair of hands gently pulling her jeans back up her legs. And then she sees Joel in the corner of her blurry vision, leaning down to search her face. She lets out a bone-rattling sob of his name and he gathers her up in his arms, sitting down on the ground and pulling her into him. There’s blood spattered across his shirt, but she doesn’t care, digging her face into his chest. He still smells like him.
“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry. It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re safe now. I’ve got you, I’ve got you. Not gonna let anything else happen to you. I’ve got you.”
…
Somehow, they manage to get to Bill and Frank’s the next day. Joel had overpowered the men last night, killing them all handily by the time he got to her. She hadn’t spoken since he’d found her, mutely walking alongside him, keeping her eyes on the road. Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
When they met the two men at the fence, they both looked taken aback by her demeanor. Bill later told Joel he thought she looked like a spooked horse, wild eyes not quite making contact, jerky, stiff movements. Frank immediately took her under his arm, guiding her into the house to tend to her bruised wrists. The couple always had a soft spot for her, had been working with her long before Joel came around, and they treated her like a daughter. Joel and Bill were left standing there, staring each other down. Bill asked him what happened but all Joel could do was shake his head, a deep sigh rumbling through his chest as he scrubbed harshly at his jaw.
Bill offered him a shower and a clean set of clothes, which he gladly accepted, watching the rust-colored water swirl around the drain. All cleaned up, he ran into Frank in the hallway as he was coming out of the bathroom.
“She’s sleeping. I gave her some painkillers, to get her some rest, at least. She told me what happened.” Joel shifts in his boots, looking down at the floor, trying to hold onto whatever restraint he has left, to not crumple in front of Frank.
Frank brings his hand to Joel’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.
“Thank you, for what you did, Joel. For her.” Joel clears his throat.
“Didn’t do enough– should’ve– I should’ve–” Frank cuts him off with another squeeze to his shoulder.
“You did what you could. Listen, Bill won’t ever admit it. But that girl? She’s like family to us. Thank you for saving her. You did. You saved her.” All Joel can do is nod, trying to not let the thick feeling in his throat roll into tears.
…
The sun has already set. As always, Bill and Frank had cooked a mind-boggling meal, but she didn’t join them for dinner. Frank had taken a plate up to her before they sat down, and when he came back downstairs he told them that she was awake, that she was feeling ok.
After dinner, Joel excused himself as the couple settled at the piano together, telling them he wanted to turn in early. The room they had set him up in was across the hall from where she was and before he could think better of it, he was lightly knocking on her door.
She called for him to come in, and when he saw her, he was shocked at how much relief he felt in seeing her again. She was sitting on the side of the bed in a worn-looking t-shirt and sweatpants that Frank must have given her. She glanced quickly at him before looking down at her feet.
“Are you alright?” He’s taken aback from her question, softly shutting the door before turning back to look at her.
“You’re asking me if I’m alright?” She just shrugs, still not looking up at him.
“Frank sort of whisked me away this morning. Haven’t seen you since then, just wondering.” Joel tentatively sits down next to her, resting his forearms on his thighs, he looks at her over his shoulder.
“I’m fine. Are you alright?” She shakes her head.
“Don’t– don’t start treating me different, Joel.”
“Not treating you different, I–”
“Yes you are, you’re treating me like I’m broken.” She scoffs before continuing, “I’m not that fragile. Thought you knew that by now. Christ, nothing even happened. You killed that-that bastard before he could really do anything.” Her breath shudders as she exhales.
“I know you’re not broken. And you’re certainly not fragile. Made of tougher stuff than most.” She shakes her head at that but he stops her.
“Hey. I also know that you’re a fucking human being. And you and I both know that even though nothing happened, something still did. Before I– before I could get to you.” It’s his turn to sigh now, wringing his hands that rest over his knees.
“Don’t, Joel. You did what you could, that’s enough.” He scoffs.
“Yeah, I did what I could. But it kills me that I didn’t do it quicker. When I saw him– on top of you, I– god, I– I’d rather die than see you hurt, do you get that?” Her head whips up to look at him, finally meeting his gaze.
“What?” He swallows hard, already regretting the words he just said, the dangerous confession he just gave to her.
“Look, I– I shouldn’t have said that, I should go,” he goes to stand but her hand reaches out to hold onto his and he freezes in place. His heart clenches when he looks at the mottled bruises long her wrist.
She turns to face him on the bed, cautiously raising her other hand to let her palm slide over his cheek. It comes out as a whisper when she says his name and something in Joel breaks.
He knows it’s rash, and maybe just plain stupid, but he still surges forward and when they kiss it’s not gentle or sweet, it’s desperate, it’s two people holding onto each other because it’s all they have. They move quickly, he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his lap as she cards her fingers through his hair and when they kiss, they kiss ugly. All tongues and teeth and gasping breaths between. His fingers dig into her hips as she starts to press down onto his growing length. He pulls away, looking into her blown out eyes.
“I want you, Joel.” Afraid of what he might say in reply, he dives back in for her mouth, slowly starting to shift them until he’s laying her out on the bed with his legs slotted between her thighs.
He keeps his weight off her, seeing her slight wince with each movement, not wanting to hurt or overwhelm her. But she pulls him down by his shoulder blades, pressing him against her.
“Please, I just– I need to feel you, please.” He pauses, breathing heavily as he looks into her eyes, just nodding.
“You’ve got me, darlin’. I’m right here.” He shifts a bit closer to her, coming down onto his forearms as he kisses along her jaw, down her neck and across her collarbone. She sighs underneath him.
He feels her hands fumbling at the hem of his shirt and he leans back to shrug it off over his head. What he wasn’t expecting was for her to do the same with her own, and when he’s met with the sight of her bare chest, his breath catches in his throat. She reaches out for him but he’s still frozen in place, taking her in. He lets his hands slide up her sides, fingertips grazing over her nipples in a way that makes her shiver. He murmurs the only word he can think to before meeting her in another kiss.
“Beautiful.”
They press skin to skin now and the feeling, the warmth makes Joel shudder. He feels like he can’t get enough of her, the way she’s running her palms up and down the planes of his back, the little sounds she makes as he kisses her. She takes one of his hands and brings it to the waist of her sweatpants. His fingers halt there as he looks up to her, asking without saying anything, she just nods.
He slips his fingers under the band, skimming down to her folds. He groans at the pooling wetness there. She’s keening into his hand as he strokes her, dipping into her entrance before swirling her arousal around her clit.
“You’re perfect, baby. S’fucking perfect. Does that feel good?” She just nods, gasping his name when his fingers dip inside her again.
“J-Joel, please. Wanna feel you. W-want you inside me.” His head spins at her words and stops what he’s doing, splaying his palm across the soft swell of her stomach.
“Are you sure?”
“I am.” He hangs his head, letting his forehead rest below her sternum, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, making sure this is real.
“Christ, ok. Ok, darlin’. I’ve got you.” He presses up off the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down along with his boxers. He thinks he might melt under her gaze, the way she takes in the sight of him.
He kneels at the end of the bed, bringing his hands to the waistband of her pants, looking up to her one more time, one more confirmation before he gently slides her pants and underwear off her legs. He sighs at the sight of her, bare beneath him, before framing her head with his forearms, laying over her and pressing in for a kiss. He guides the head of his cock through her folds and they both groan at the contact. She draws her knee up to his hip, spreading herself out for him just a bit more.
“You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” She nods, brushing his hair back away from his eyes before settling her hand on his cheek. He turns his head and lays a kiss in the middle of her palm before he starts to press into her. She gasps and he freezes immediately, but then she keens.
“D-don’t stop, please. Want you to keep going.” He huffs, pressing a bit deeper, taking in the way her back arches into him. Her nails dig into the muscle of his shoulder where she’s wrapped her arm.
Finally, his hips settle against hers, and they both sigh at the feeling of him being fully sheathed in her. Joel’s afraid that if he moves, this will be over before it’s even started. He dips his nose into her neck, smelling the soap Frank gave her to clean up with, but also just smelling her. Her heel digs a little into his low back, he looks up at her.
“You can move, baby.” Joel holds back a whimper at her words. He shifts his hips back, finding a slow roll back into her that has them both moaning. It’s a slow, deep pace they find, pushing and pulling against each other, lips smearing in barely-coherent kisses.
He feels the pleasure pulling tight, ready to snap, but he needs to get her there first. He brings his fingers down, circling her clit a bit harshly. She whines at the contact and he can feel her pulse around him.
“Just let go, baby. I’ve got you. Let go for me, please.” She lets out a broken cry of his name before coming undone, and it’s enough to send Joel over the edge as well, quickly pulling out and painting her stomach with his spend. He’s panting as he leans in for a chaste kiss, pulling back to take in her flushed figure, the softly heaving swells of her body. He whispers that he’ll be right back, moving over to the attached bathroom to find a towel to clean her up with. He sits back on the bed, daubing away the mess he made. She’s smiling softly around a “thank you.”
He passes her her t-shirt to slip back on while he tugs his boxers back up his legs before they both get under the covers, immediately tangling up in each other. There’s nothing to say, it’s unspoken what has just passed between them. Joel knows that from now on, he’s hers, and she’s his.
Her breathing evens out before his, falling asleep in his arms. He lets his palm wander up her shirt, gently skating down her back. He pauses at the gauze bandage that sits at the base of her spine. He had seen what that man had done to her, the letters gruesomely carved into her skin. It made him wish he hadn’t just shot the man, that he had kept him alive to make him suffer, only giving him the mercy of death when he was begging for it.
#joel miller angst#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#the last of us#tlou#tlou fanfiction#joel miller one shot#fanfic
772 notes
·
View notes
Note
youve mentioned offhand ur issues with thirsty sword lesbians, have u talked at length abt this somewhere before and if not do u want to? i want to hear ur thoughts hehe
now before i get into this i want to clarify: i like thirsty sword lesbians, overall! i think it takes some of the best stuff from monster hearts and refines it -- i think it does great and exciting things with pbta playbooks -- i think anyone making a pbta game should check it out because it's full of valuable ideas -- and i've had a lot of fun playing it!
however, i think it's just as flawed as it is brilliant. there's a few different flaws but the biggest one for me is a catastrophic clash between two things the game is trying to be. one on hand, it wants to be a catradora rpg. there's no shame in that, i love games that wear their influences on their sleeves--TSL¹ wants to be a game about kissing your rival after you've both been disarmed, about having a fraught and complicated relationship with your girl best friend who abandoned you to serve the dark lord, about having homoerotic sword duels where your blades lock and you stare into each other's eyes for just one second too long before one of you kicks the other in the chest. i think that's an admirable goal for an RPG and one that TSL hits a lot of the notes of--the fact that the move to "Figure Someone Out" has special questions you can only ask someone when you're duelling them is incredible design. the Strings system, adapted from Monsterhearts, the ability to fluster your enemies when you use the Entice move, the constant focus on what characters desire and how their actions conflict with those desires--so much of the game is working towards that!
unfortunately, the game also wants to be about queer resistance to homophobia and capitalist/imperialist hegemony. this is clear in its sample settings, with their eyerollingly on-the-nose conflicts like defending 'queertopia' and fighting the evil sorceress 'repressia'. but much more importantly, it's clear in the game. several of the playbooks are defined by their relationship to sexual hegemony--the beast is about someone who is othered and monsterised for expressing their existence and the seeker is about someone sheltered and prejudiced moving past that and discovering themselvs and others. like, it's not subtle--
and to be clear, there's nothing wrong with that, either. just as i like a lot of TSL's swashbuckling girl-romancing flirting-at-swordpoint mechanics, i really appreciated how (although the game's outlook on what these forces are is predicably liberal and its tonal approach to these things is one that i personally find teeth-grindingly insufferable) these things are actually integrated into its mechanics. playbooks like the beast and the seeker (and the rest!) imply something about the world the game is set in and its sexual politics. this game is meaningfully queer in the way something like dream askew is, in that its mechanics ask you to actually explore your character's queerness specifically. this is good, and it's something that elevates it above about 90% of ttrpg stuff that sells itself as queer.
so if both these things are good, what's the problem? well, it's that they're two great (or at least--interesting) tastes that go fucking horribly together. the fundamental problem that i have with TSL and one that i think takes a lot of work to get around in your own campaigns is that it simultaneously wants you to be fighting (on the individual level) a lot of antiheroic ultimately sympathetic hot girls you can flirt with and kiss--a lot of 'i can fix her's or 'she can make me worse's--and on the broader narrative wants you to be fighting institutional queerphobia (and often, although this is nowhere near as actually supported by mechanics, a more generalized 'imperialism' or 'capitalism' or 'bigotry'). so you end up fighting 'those stupid sexy homophobes'--people who are according to the text (not just 'lore', but the rules text, the mechanics you're playing with!) simultaneously the violent enforcers of cisheteropatriarchy and a bunch of fuckable lesbians with sympathetic backstories.
& i just think those things are fundamentally at odds. the result is a game that if you try and play it at face value works at cross purposes with itself, attempting to do two perfectly valid things without considering what happens when the streams cross.
it also has a few other flaws--like many other PBTA games, its balance falls apart if you play any long campaign (my group and i had to figure out special alternative level-up rewards!) but it comes with no inbuilt way to neatly conclude a campaign or character. its tone is something that, as i often mention, i absolutely cannot fucking stand--it has a certain sense of humour that feels profoundly dated to me and was never my cup of tea when it was in vogue. this is something i try not to hold against the game bc it is very much a personal taste-level 'cringe' reaction but the game lays it on pretty fucking thick.
more to its detriment, it is profoundly, gratingly liberal in the exact way people who deploy that tone usually are. its understanding of anything outside queerphobia specifically is just a purely aesthetic & thoughtless 'imperialism is bad!'. it manages a more nuanced understanding of homophobia, but it only manages it on the individual level--for a game about queerness and about fighting systems of cisheteronormativity, it has no systemic or material understanding of these systems and no interest in establishing one.
and finally--and this is just one paragraph but it's so fucking awful i feel the need to complain about it here because i think about it often as an example of something i never want to write:
this sucks! real bad! so deeply fucking silly to reassure people in your game that you called Thirsty Sword Lesbians that it's okay if you want to be cishet. like, it would be one thing to make a game where you can neatly extract the lesbianism and have the same game, a surface-level aesthetically queer game with no actual interest in queerness except as a marketing term. it would fucking suck but this paragraph would at least describe such a game. but TSL isn't that!!! . 'thirsty sword cishets' would be a very different and much worse game! awful and self-defeating paragraph. deeply silly concern to address and give airtime to. i didn't buy a game called 'thirsty sword lesbians' to be told 'its okay to be heterosexual i pwommy'
so yea just to reiterate: i like the game overall, i think there's a lot of good valuable stuff in there designwise despite all this. but i'm very ambivalent about it--ironically, i feel a love-hate relationship with this game about love-hate relationships. i admire it and yet i despise it! i long to put it at the tip of my sword and slowly tilt its cover up so that the pages look up at me coquettishly but with burning anger in their page numbers. if this book was a person id hatefuck it, is the joke, thats the joke im making, here, in this post. thanks
¹ i call it TSL whenever i can because the name 'Thirsty Sword Lesbians' makes me cringe out of my fucking skin. genuinely horrible name. i'm sure it's funny the first time you hear it, i got a mild chuckle the first time i heard it to, but it's such an obnoxious thing ot have to say repeatedly when seriously discussing it. should have stayed a placeholder name amiguitas
219 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hyrule's resting bitch face champion for three decades and counting.
@scopophobia-polaris asked for some more details on this silly guy and I needed to post the redesign of his scars so I'm gonna ramble!
General "rules" I am using for the Bad Moon AU:
-You cannot change the future. If you saw the future, it happens. Maybe not to you, but it happens. Time travel either involves splitting timelines, temporal loops (see the song of storms), or two extremely similar timelines that collapse together (a dumb child goes to the past to plant beans). What does this mean for Termina? OH GOD OH GOD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TINY WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!
-If you turn into something, you will never entirely turn back.
-Two opposing wishes on the Tri Force will really fuck things up. Also, it happened. Bad Moon is about dealing with the fallout.
Tiny has a series of magic scars from his various transformations. Most of them are benign or beneficial due to Farore's blessing and the Fierce Deity's Mask's intervention, but not all. Believe it or not, this is me nerfing him, because I'm getting rid of all the Terminian masks except for the FD's mask, which gets broken.
-From the Deku mask he has ivy vines. Most are centered along his spine. He uses them to hold stuff. If he sleeps in fertile soil they will grow into the ground and he leaves weird plants that are sort of beholden to him all over the place. Gross. Anyways, remember how the Hero's Shade is covered in ivy? The "missing" eye is also more or less a Deku scrub's pitlike eye now, granting him low-light but otherwise mediocre vision in that eye.
-From the Goron mask he is disturbingly strong now. Most of Farore's blessed are pretty strong to begin with and now he's got Darmani's strength on top of that. His teeth are continuously growing and need to be worn down by grinding them on each other (because he's missing a tooth from that facial scar those teeth are maloccluded and grow all weird). It's definitely inspired by wrathful deity artwork though. He's also extremely resistant to heat. He got the white hair and scales on his shoulders/knees/elbows from Darmani too. Guess what part of his magic scarring the Hero of Twilight inherits!
-From the Zora mask he has some extremely strong scales on his forearms that can be used to defend himself. He can also make nasty electrical shocks, is very resistant to electrocution, is an extremely good swimmer (nowhere near as good as Mikau though), and can hold his breath for twenty minutes easily. His toes are webbed too.
-From the Giant's mask his height just kinda varies. His "true" height is over seven feet tall but it can vary between about 6"/15cm in either direction. He has some control over this but it's more related to his sense of security. He's at his smallest when he's the most insecure but like, that's still 6'10"/208 cm so he's still way too big. Lucky for him the magic also affects his clothes/armor but it takes some time so he just makes/buys things on the larger end and waits for them to shrink to his current size. The effect goes away when removed from his body. Is this so I don't have to be consistent? Yes.
-He turns into a puppy in the War of Eras when he's ten and Zant uses the twilight as a weapon. Specifically an epicyon puppy! A 100lb/45kg puppy! Medli will ride him! I just want to draw the biggest puppy in the world. He can still turn into the big ancient wolf, and thankfully it doesn't do too much to him (unlike Twilink) but his jaw attaches waaay further back than it ought to and he can open his mouth to a scary degree. It's probably influencing those big fangs too. Combined with the Goron bite strength and... yeah.
I'll probably change things because I'm just playing around with him, so don't be surprised when I do!
120 notes
·
View notes
Text
Testing The Cat Lady
1/?
Pairing: LA Buggy the Clown x Reader
Summary: Captain Buggy invades your small town because that's kind of his thing. Your methods of escape pique his interest, so he drops everything and drags you back to his tent for a little chat. However, you're enraged when you realize that your beloved cat is nowhere to be seen.
Warnings: language
Word Count: 2300
A/N: This is my first time writing really anything, so please don’t be mean or I’ll cry. Kind of experimenting and finding my own style, so I can't promise consistency lol. Definitely open to any tips/pointers
A bright light rouses you from your sleep. Ugh. Everything is sore. Your heavy eyelids protest as you force them open, being met with a blue-haired man in clown makeup standing mere feet from you. A gasp escapes your dry, bound mouth as you’re jolted back into reality, tensing every muscle in your body. Much to your chagrin, you can’t move an inch. Checking yourself over, you see that your hands and feet are bound to a circular board.
The man turns toward you. “Wellll, good morning, sleepyhead! Hope you enjoyed your nap,” the man says with a large smile plastered across his face. However, the smile is anything but friendly. His tone is hostile, and his eyes are cold. You glance around the room, but it’s difficult to discern where you are. A large spotlight shines upon you and the clown, dousing anything outside of its beam with darkness.
Anxiety builds in the pit of your stomach. You mumble against the cloth stuffed into your mouth, trying to ask what the hell is going on. “Ah, ah, ah,” he scolds, waving a finger in front of you. “I saw your little show back in town. That’s why I dragged your sorry ass back here.” He paces in front of you, never dropping eye contact. All humor has left his face, a mixture of irritation and curiosity left in its place.
Of course, you know what he’s referencing. It was your devil fruit ability.
Earlier in the day, the unexpected and unwelcomed bell rang across town to warn that pirates were nearing. From your hilltop bungalow on the outskirts of town, the brightly colored ship bearing a Jolly Roger sail was visible. It appeared to be far enough out for you to have time to gather some belongings before evacuating, so you did exactly that. However, you underestimated how prepared the crew was. Several bands of pirates had already surrounded your town, one of which infiltrated your small neighborhood. Panic set in, and adrenaline rushed through you. So, as if on instinct, you started to sing.
Back in your teenage years, you were a traveler. Never staying in one place for too long, you visited dozens of islands and adventured through both large cities and undeveloped areas alike. One of your escapades led you to a devil fruit – the Hum-Hum fruit, to be exact. Being the adventurer you were, how could you resist?
It gave you the ability to influence peoples’ emotions by singing to them. It had its pros and cons, but ultimately made a good defensive ability. It helped you out of a lot of sticky situations throughout your journeys right up until you decided to settle on this island and call it home. You acclimated to the friendly town easily and even befriended a scruffy orange kitten, who you decided to call Mango.
Overwhelming the pirates with a false, but intense fear, they cowered before you as you slowly backed away with a small rucksack and Mango held against your che- Wait. Mango!
You start thrashing against your restraints, hurling muffled expletives at this blue-haired jackass. What the fuck did they do with him?
He smiled again, genuinely this time, finally getting the reaction that he wanted from you. “You seem like you’ve got something to say, doll,” he states, pleased with himself. “I’ll be gracious enough to let you explain what you were doing to my freaks.” Is this an opening? “Oh, and my cauliflower-eared friend, Klaus, here is going to make sure you don’t try anything.” A large man with scarred ears steps into the light, startling you. No. It was not, in fact, an opening. The big, dumb-looking guy steps forward and removes your gag. He then takes a step back, mumbling something to the blue-haired man. You’re not positive, but you’re pretty sure he called the blue-haired man “captain.” So this guy is the captain of the invading pirates? Doesn’t look like much, you thought.
The captain stares at you eagerly, waiting for an explanation. You meet his gaze with a glare, seething and ready for a fight. “What did you do with my cat?” His face falls in disbelief.
“What?” he asks incredulously.
“Where. Is. My. Cat!”
He stares back, taking a moment to fully process your words before he starts flailing and yells, “A cat? Buggy the Clown – captain of the most dreaded pirate crew the East Blue has ever known – has you tied up and helpless, ready to kill you if I have to, and you’re worried about a fucking cat?” Of course you are. Mango’s your best friend. Also, “most dreaded?” You’ve never even heard of him. This Buggy guy seems to think highly of himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose with a defeated sigh. “I don’t know where your cat is. That is not the point. Now tell me what you were doing to my men!”
This guy clearly doesn’t comprehend how much you love your cat and how bull-headed you can be.
“I’m not answering anything until I have my cat back.”
“Fuck!” Buggy steps out of the light. You can’t see him, but you can hear him still yelling, utterly frustrated. “You, you, and you! Go find this dumbshit cat!”
You finally relax against the board, pleased. “He’s orange with a blue ribbon around his neck,” you call in a sing-song voice toward the darkness.
Buggy returns to the light and comes close, only stopping once your noses – wait is that clown nose real? – are nearly touching. “Once they bring that stupid cat back, you’re answering any question I’ve got.”
“Whatever you say, captain,” you reply, smirking. With a final huff, he steps once more into the darkness. Initially, you were filled to the brim with fear, but seeing how much of an idiot this guy is puts you at ease. It takes roughly 30 minutes before you finally hear hissing and yowling in the distance. Atta boy, Mango. Give ‘em hell.
Another man, this one wearing a bear hood, steps into the light holding Mango out as far away from his body as possible. Bear-boy is clearly scratched to shit and relieved to finally be able to get this thing away from him. He drops your cat and dips back into the darkness as quickly as possible. Mango lets out another loud hiss before calming at the sight of you and trotting over to rest at your feet.
Buggy walks back up to you, clearly no less aggravated than he was earlier. “Now answer my questions, shithead! What were you doing to my men?” The nicknames are getting a little more aggressive now, huh?
You shoot him a dirty look and slowly choose your words while looking down to make sure your cat hasn’t been harmed. His tail is puffed out in anger, but he seems fine otherwise. “I was singing to them,” you reply matter-of-factly.
The clown’s face falls again, in stark contrast of the large, red smile painted onto his face. “Singing,” he repeats flatly. “You were singing.” It’s not even a question so much as a statement. The gears in his head start turning, and he mumbles to himself. “I figured it was a witch’s incantation or something. How does singing have any effect on my men?”
“It’s my devil fruit ability.” His face whips toward you. This clearly has his interest piqued. As fun as it would be to torment this clown, you just want to get out of these restraints, so you decide to give him the information he so clearly wants outright. “I ate the Hum-Hum fruit. I can control peoples’ emotions by singing to them.”
Licking his lips and smiling, Buggy stares at you even more intently now. “Show me.”
“Let me down first.” Bargaining might not be in your cards right now, but you decide it’s worth a shot. Surprisingly, the bold request pays off though, as the captain comes forward to undo your restraints. With him this close, you notice that he has a surprisingly nice floral scent.
“I’ll need an audience,” you say, rubbing your sore wrists once freed. With a nod, he looks into the darkness and jerks his head, motioning for several unseen crewmates to come closer. Scooping Mango up off the ground, you finally step out of the oppressive spotlight. It takes a minute for your eyes to fully adjust, but you take in the room. It’s more of a tent, really, with striped tarps set up and seating placed around the edge. Fitting, you suppose, for a circus clown to reside in a circus tent. Your eyes land on your small audience seated on the benches. It’s only four people, one of which is Bear-boy, now with gauze wrapped around his hands and forearms. Smiling back down at Mango, you give him some scritches under his chin, making him purr softly. What a good boy.
“Alright, doll. Go ahead.” Back to the nice nicknames now that he’s getting his way, it seems. Holding up your end of the bargain, you fulfill his request. This captain is a fool though, letting you freely use your ability. Once you’ve got them cowering again, you’re going to book it out of the tent. The big, cauliflower-eared guy can’t hear you, but you should still be able to outrun him.
As you start singing, the captain watches on with a large smile, looking back and forth between you and your audience. They laugh, then cry, then start yelling and throwing punches at each other. But… Why isn’t Buggy reacting? A gloved hand – a dismembered hand – flies forward and clasps your mouth shut. Holy shit! You jump back with wide eyes, but the hand follows. Looking back to the captain, you see that his smile has grown impossibly wide. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the audience scurry away. What the hell is he trying to pull? Eyeing him up and down you notice that his left arm ends in a stump. Wasn’t there a hand there before? The moment your eyes dart back up to his face a set of what appear to be ears comes flying toward him and pop back onto the sides of his head.
As much as you want to, your body is too frozen in fear to back away. The clown releases your mouth and the hand returns to him and pops onto the end of his arm. He laughs at your expression and circles you. “What, you think you’re the only person who’s ever eaten a devil fruit? I myself ate the Chop-Chop fruit.” Right before your eyes, his body breaks apart into a dozen pieces before reassembling. So that’s why he wasn’t affected by your ability. He can’t hear you if his ears are off somewhere else. “You can slice me, and you can dice me, but I will always put myself back together again.”
Klaus comes forward and grabs you by the arms, making Mango fall to the ground. He once again stands before your feet hissing at the captain in a feeble attempt to protect you. Buggy’s detached hand flies toward your cat grabbing him by the scruff and pulls him up toward his face. Mango writhes, trying to free himself to no avail.
“No!” you scream. “You leave him alone!”
That annoyingly perpetual smile remains plastered on Buggy’s face. Four daggers slide from his coat, one between each of his fingers, in a clear attempt to intimidate you. “Or what?” You have no answer for him. In ideal circumstances, you could influence him to lose interest in both you and your cat, but being bound by a big deaf guy seriously limits your chances of escape. The feelings of panic and despair from earlier are flooding back to you. Tears fall down your face.
“I- I don’t know,” you admit with a small sob. “Please don’t hurt him. He’s all I have.”
Buggy’s smile falters for a moment at your begging. If you blinked, you would have missed it. Recovering his smile again, he taps the daggers against his chest, pretending to mull over your pleas. “Alright, I won’t.” He steps closer again, now inches away from you. “If you join my crew, that is. You could prove useful.”
You look up at him. His blue-green eyes – which are admittedly, the most beautiful you’ve ever seen – stare back at you intently. Inexplicably, there’s a flutter in your chest, but it’s quickly replaced with a hard drop as Mango lets out another yowl. “Okay,” you whisper, nodding. “I’ll join your crew. Just please give me back my cat.” He takes a step back and his hand comes forward to place Mango back into your arms. You hold your scared pet to your chest, stroking him in an attempt to soothe both him and yourself.
“Cabaji,” Buggy shouts, summoning a man with strange striped hair forward. “We just added another showstopping member to our crew. This is cause for celebration, don’t you think?” The man, Cabaji, nods and disappears into another room off the main tent. The clown turns to face you once more, his smile more subtle now. He grabs your arm and dismisses Klaus. For a split second, you consider taking this chance to run, but something tells you that your freedom would be short-lived. “I’m so happy you decided to join me, doll,” he says much more softly now. “You and your little friend there will make a nice addition to the show.”
Wrapping his arm around you, he steers toward the door that Cabaji left through moments ago. He leans down close to your ear, his breath tickling as he quietly states, “By the way, songbird. I’ve got a strict agreement with Mohji to not hurt cats.”
#one piece buggy#buggy the clown#buggy x reader#one piece#buggy live action#captain buggy#buggy the clown x reader#buggy the clown x you
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
indefinitely, forever ☆ okkotsu yuuta! [2/3]
okkotsu yuuta (post shibuya) x fem!reader
click here for: part one | part two | part three
- no spoilers from the manga, dwdw ;)
- alternative universe where yuuta is an SCP?
- [18+] three-part series, 10k+ words in total
(note: not proofread, expect grammar mistakes) warning: contains descriptions of blood, yuuta is a bit OOC/has that gojo satoru influence, romance, happy ending but contains slight angst and comfort, 2nd person pov, reader swears like a sailor
Nanami and Maki were nowhere to be seen, probably being told to retreat back into their offices for further discussion.
All eyes were on you however, being flailed around like a ragdoll in Rika's hand as she continues her slaughter. You could tell just how much the pair were enjoying this; the bloodshed had the walls painted in complete red. A stark contrast to the bland whiteness of the facility. You couldn't bear to watch as screams erupted all around you, silenced once Rika descends her attack on them, which had somehow grown more destructive over time.
"Where now?"
You point weakly at the hall to the left. Fuck the Foundation for designing their buildings akin to mazes. It left you bedridden and sick the first night you had to memorize their layout. But it felt worth it now, the three of you trudging forward and towards the exit with no difficulty.
"Elevator. Push the down button."
"Not up?"
"That's a secret alert button," Secrets spew out of your mouth like a waterfall. Nothing really mattered now that you're siding with evil. "Don't press that or we're fucked."
Yuta does as you told him to.
Now's a matter of defending yourselves before it arrives.
Rika sets you down on the ground, a low rumble emitting from her throat. Your knees felt weak like jelly, but you manage. Rika disappears back into Yuta's body without a trace, leaving the two of you alone. Now you both look human more than ever, but the blood tainting your clothing had a lot of convincing to do if you were to try and prove so.
Your ears pick up on the hurried footsteps approaching near, and Yuta readies his katana. The figures come closer, light behind them casting a familiar silhouette over two individuals holstering weapons-
"Wait! Those are my friends."
Yuta lowers the weapon slightly.
They slow down, coming to a stop.
Maki's eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets, seeing that you were in the hands of Rika. Nanami looked beyond frustrated. "Let her go, or we'll have no choice but to neutralize you."
"Wait, you guys. This isn't-"
Yuta cuts you, "I don't want to."
"Can't you at least let me talk to them?"
"What's going on?" Maki's gaze drifts between the two of you, suspicion lingering in the air. "Are you two working together? Seriously, get your head out of the gutter! If you're working with him just because you almost saw him naked-"
"Huh-"
"That has nothing to do with this!" You protest, your ears burning from the sudden accusation. "Listen to me, alright?"
"I'm listening." Nanami's spectacles glint under the light menacingly, weapon in hand. You've worked with him long enough to know that he'd most likely believe in reason than what's shown up front. Yet you were at a loss for words to even explain the absurdity of your situation: how would you tell them that you were coerced into this? The blood on their hands was as much the same as on yours; you lead them out all the way here. Despite wanting to do what's right, you chose to be selfish and instead helped the pair of anomalies.
You were the one who chose to betray the Foundation.
You're just as guilty as Yuta is. No less, no more.
"I... He broke out of his cell and..." Before you could finish, the elevator has reached your level. The metal doors open. "Nanami, Maki, I-"
Yuta pats your shoulder, "We need to go. Now."
"But-"
"Now." And there's that same dead-eyed look again, replacing any friendliness you had shared. You swallowed thickly, nodding at his command, knowing very well that the only two people you cared for are now no longer trusting of you.
Your nails dig deep into the palm of your hands when you had to turn your back on them. Yuta waits for you to enter then presses it close, noting how your friends stood aghast without firing their weapons.
It seems that they, too, have chosen to be just as guilty as you are.
...
"Are you okay?" Yuta's soft voice brought you back to reality. You were no longer back at the facility but rather in the comfort of your own home. Yuta had no clue about the city, finding himself displaced from the hometown he had been used to. You were lucky enough that you had just moved into a new residential area no one knew, an hour away from the underground base.
You had no energy to fight with the criminal sitting in front of you. He sat with both legs crossed, watching the snow trickle outside. He's wearing an oversized sweater of yours that had somehow fit perfectly on him. Droplets of water cascade down the side of his cheeks from his damp hair, no longer retaining its slicked down shape.
"Obviously not." You reply snarkily.
Yuta shifts away from the magical sight and onto your tired face. Your cheeks flush red and your pants were loose. Somehow you've lost even more weight prior to getting the job. You put your head in your hands, wanting to cry, yet finding the energy to do so was futile.
He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable at your sorrow.
"I'm sorry."
Hearing him apologize drove you mad.
"Say sorry one more time and I'm kicking you out."
He zips his lips shut, choosing to avert his focus on the falling snow again. It's December this time around, mid-winter. He'd lost count of the days he spent in the military looking up at high ceilings made of concrete at night, with little to no light. They had always treated him so unkindly; so inhumanely; leaving him to sleep on the floor like an animal and locking him up until it was time to leave for a mission. At least he had a bed during his time in the facility.
He hears a sniffle from you and scoots closer. There's this instinct he has that tells him to hold you close- maybe even give you a reassuring hug- but he's not so sure. He knows, clearly, that he's the cause of your demise and that he had just screwed your life over completely; but the Foundation would keep things discreet about the damage and betrayal you've caused. There's a benefit to working in secrecy, he supposes. So he does the next best thing he could think of:
"Are you hungry?"
His words made your stomach complain. All day you were merely surviving off coffee and stale breadsticks from the staff kitchen; some days you even forgot to eat from how tired you were.
You glare at him between the cracks of your fingers.
"Okay." Yuta gets up and walks over to the kitchen. Despite his isolation from the outside world, he had gotten pretty skilled in cooking. Having Rika around was tenacious as she always preferred eating meat raw; but tendencies are simply tendencies and when Rika isn't around, Yuta preferred cooking for himself.
You wiped your tears off with the paws of your sweater. It's December, just a little over two weeks left before Christmas. Just yesterday you were planning with Maki to go on a trip, but now...
Now you can't even use your phone in case you were tracked.
Hot tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you broke down once again, this time in a fit. Whatever exhaustion that had piled up pushed you to the very edge. For weeks you've been dreading going to work, only staying for the paycheck and for your friends. Hell, you had to convince yourself that you had a crush on one of the guys in the lounge just so you could continue going.
Maybe this was a sign that you should've quitted earlier.
Your logic battles with your conscience.
It's clearly Yuta's fault, so why are you beating yourself up?
Grief turns to anger as you stood from your seat and stomp angrily towards the man poking around in your fridge. There's an array of wilted vegetables across the counter. The thought of grocery shopping crossed your mind for a brief while; then it was overpowered by the sheer emotion of wanting to strangle the source of your troubles: fucking Yuta Okkotsu and his damned pet monster.
"Dinner's not ready yet- urhmp!"
You take him by the collar and slam him onto the counter. You earn a high-pitched yelp from the man once you punch him, this time not missing; right in his fucking face. Yuta groans in pain, a purple bruise forming on his cheek. The imprints of your knuckles fade slowly from his pale skin, and he winces as you pulled him back up by the collar. Your left hand takes the win yet again as you slap him hard across his face- so hard that stars burst within his vision. You were surprised to find that Rika hadn't come out and attacked you yet for what you did to him.
"Aren't you sorry for what you did to me?"
His eyebrows knit together, arms limp on his sides. "I'm sorry."
"You think that's fucking enough?" Your words come out harsh through gritted teeth. Yuta exhales, both hands coming up to grip your wrists firmly and forcing them off his collar.
"No, it isn't. I know that."
"I'll fucking kill you one day."
"No, you can't. You know that."
You try to budge your hands away from his grip to no avail. His hands are just as cold as you remember them. His eyes fail to mask his worry when he saw your bruised knuckles and the cuts on your arm. He had forgotten just how fragile you were compared to him, a supernatural human with a stupidly OP alien slash monster slash creature by his side to almost always heal him without actively seeking for it. You were human; as dainty as a dandelion; a single blow by his hand and you'd be crushed in an instant.
Despite being roughed up, Yuta made sure to be extra gentle handling you. To make sure you wouldn't break at his touch.
"Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"Fuck off. Don't pretend like you give a shit about me."
He says nothing, hands moving up to cover over yours in spite of what you said. While you may not be physically strong, you've formulated your vocabulary enough to hurt like shards of broken glass. The room falls into temporary solace as he heals you.
"Listen. I'm really sorry."
The purple on your knuckles slowly started to fade, and the stinging subsided. "I don't give a shit, Yuta. You ruined my life and I'm not forgiving you for as long as you live."
"Then can I show you just how sorry I am?"
"And how would you do that? You think you're gonna win my heart over by some cooking?" You grit your teeth in pain when he massages over the sore knuckles that were just healed.
"I'll earn it however you want me to."
"Huh?"
Yuta's fingers glide over the cuts and bruises on your arm, counting them. "Whatever it takes for you to forgive me, I'll do it. I don't want to become estranged to you."
There's this weird feeling in your chest that's telling you to slap him again. But you hold back, mulling his words over and over. Whatever it takes, he says? You could practically use him however you wanted to for your own personal gain. With those looks of his, you could turn him into a runaway model and have all the money for yourself. The gears of business turned into your head. You could have him clean your house everyday, tell him to get a job, and live burden-free for the rest of your life. Having Rika would be an extra plus for security.
But wait a damn minute; estranged? You've just met him today and you're both acting like lovers living underneath the same roof.
He must've caught this realization of yours with the odd way he looks down at your hand, then at his, then back to your face. Yuta feels a little self-conscious, "Um, what? Is there something on my face?"
Hey hey, wait. Doesn't he look a little cute?
You raise a hand and slap yourself.
"Huh- are you okay?!"
"If I don't kill you, then I'll kill myself."
"Oh heavens, no. Please don't do that." Yuta slips his fingers in yours without much thought, pulling you closer to him. "Just breathe. Breathe in slowly, then out. This... this isn't worth that much to die for, alright? I'll help you find another job. I won't be much of a burden to you anymore since I'll move out soon, so please don't-"
He smells so much like the vanilla shampoo you love.
"Yuta." You cut his rambling off.
The poor boy is shaking with anxiety. Whatever deadly facade he had on just a few hours ago had evaporated along with your sadness, "Y-Yeah?"
"Do you realize just how absurd we are right now?"
"What do you mean?" He blinks innocently.
"This... whatever you're doing to me."
He rakes his eyes on you- head to toe, then back up to you. "The healing? It's Rika's powers and not mine."
"No. I mean, the situation that we're in right now."
"...That I killed people and that we're on the run?"
"No. It's how close we are together."
Yuta's face turns pink at the realization, "Oh, uh. Sorry, I..." Your hands and his untangle. It's hard to believe that this was the same man that hunted you down akin a predator to its prey; his eyes that once held no regard for human life are now shaking from your intense query. He deftly looks away from you to the side instead, putting his arms behind his back. He wants to curl into a ball and melt into a puddle; his very own innocence had chipped away the walls he had once built to keep emotions at an arm's length away.
Yuta's heart stutters, like a teenage boy with a crush.
"You know... if you like touching me so much all you gotta do is ask." Something else swells within you seeing him vulnerable like that. A deadly man with a deadly SCP no doubt; but worked up just because you reminded him of his proximity? It was your turn to tease him.
"I... Why do you say it like that?"
"Then why do you keep touching me?"
His eyes meet yours, "Because I need to heal you?"
"I don't believe you."
"Would you rather I touch you in a different way, then?" Yuta asks, dipping his head closer to you. The air changes in a split second, and you feel hotter than you should be in early December.
"...Huh?"
He mimics your words with a befitting smile, "If you want me to touch you so much, all you gotta do is ask..."
You felt like you were going to explode.
From tension or embarrassment, you don't know.
"Fuck you, Yuta."
You mock him.
Yuta chuckles,
"Sure."
Your eyes widen when he puts a hand behind your head, leaning closer to kiss you softly on the lips.
Time had somehow stopped for the two of you, the snow outside halting in their descent. His usually cold fingers had turned warm, resting nicely on the crook of your neck. His lips were plush soft against yours. His other hand cups your face, thumb stroking your cheek slowly with the kind of affection you've never felt before.
This was personal.
This was intimate.
This has got to be some kind of fucked up love.
He pulls back abruptly, guilt pooling in his eyes. "I'm sorry-"
Yeah, it has to be.
It must be with the way you responded back to him just as hungrily when he tore apart from you. Your hands grasp desperately at the clothing you lent to him, smelling so sweetly of your strawberry scented fabric softener, as if he was going to crumble to dust in your arms. It must be in the way your eyes flutter to a close, devoting all trust in a man you barely knew. It must be in the way his touches kindle a fire in you, raising the hair on your arms and back, how your body eases into the warmth his body emits. It must be how you yearn for his touch despite knowing him so briefly; as if you had known each other forever. It must be in the way his lips fit so perfectly on yours, cherry red on Merlot wine, drunken in each other.
It must be, it must be, it must be.
It must be some kind of fucked up destiny.
His hands travel down to your waist, holding you in place. Yuta loved touching; but especially touching you now, after having just realized how devoid of love he truly was. Regarded as viler than human all his years, pent-up frustration had him abandoning his emotions; his only saving grace of ever being considered human.
But in your arms, he felt human.
Each kiss lasted longer than the last. Outside, the world had turned a shade of dark only the moon can light up. You both finally break apart, catching your breaths. You notice the pinkish hue dusting his bruised cheeks and he notices the shy smile on your lips.
"Yuta... my legs."
"I got you," Yuta mumbles softly, carefully switching your positions and placing you on top of the counter. Now he's the one looking up at you, his lips a shade redder than before and the most lovesick gaze in his eyes you've ever seen. "You look so pretty when you smile."
You blush, "See, that's my first kiss you took."
"I thought the floor took your first?"
You smack him lightly, "Don't bring that up!"
He chuckles at the memory.
"I'm sorry that I punched you. Does it still hurt?" In the back of your mind you shot yourself for casting your pride aside, but you had to. He had kissed all the hatred you had for him away.
"Don't be." He rubs his cheeks, "I can heal myself, I deserved it."
"Yeah you know what, you're right. You do."
--------------------------------------------------------------> part 3 (smut)
#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk#jjk x reader smut#jjk yuuta#yuuta okkotsu#yuuta x you#okkotsu yuta#okkotsu yuuta#yuta okkotsu#how many fucking tags does yuta have#i had to redo tags imma kms#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#x reader#fanfiction#jjk fanfic
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
🎯🎯🎯
This is why it drives me nuts that Xena and Gabrielle are never on those WLW ships of all-time lists because the fact is you wouldn’t have any of those WLW ships without them. They are the blueprint of and green light for WLW representation in TV art/entertainment.
Try and think of any WLW ship in a TV show before them. I’ll wait. They only existed in movies really…
There was that one episode of Star Trek I suppose…
But that was just a kiss. That was nowhere near as groundbreaking as Xena and Gabrielle were. Like honestly, I really wish more WLW shows would pay their dues because they wouldn’t exist without them.
Tillow wouldn’t exist. TiBette wouldn’t exist. Brittana wouldn’t exist. WayHaught wouldn’t exist.
Every single sincere WLW ship wouldn’t have happened without Xena and Gabrielle and their extreme influence on WLW representation in TV art/entertainment. I would credit 2 major events that happened that truly gave WLW the green light.
Xena and Gabrielle.
Ellen Degeneres.
That’s it. Without those two major events…
We’d still have virtually fucking nothing.
The creators of Xena were so fucking brave man to do what they did in a time when they really couldn’t do it.
Just goes to show you… It pays off to go against the grain once in awhile as extremely scary as it might be.
I feel like people really do not understand the context of this in this day and age because WLW representation is everywhere now that it really is no wonder why Xena is accused of queer bait. But it really isn’t because they went as far as they could go. They took it as far as they could. But it was very difficult.
It’s only not difficult now because of what they and Ellen did. And I need more people to be aware of this.
#xena warrior princess#xena and gabrielle#xena#lucy lawless#gabrielle#renee o'connor#ultimate otp#the blueprint#the green light#wlw representation#wlw ships in tv shows wouldn’t exist without them#we wouldn’t have made the large strides we have if they weren’t ever a thing#and in some ways I would still say they’re the best WLW representation we’ll ever have in a TV show
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
I sometimes wonder if the reason (if not at least one of many reasons) why antis are so against Hazbin Hotel as a show (besides the obvious anti viv bullshit) is because the very concept of redemption is anathema to them.
They do not believe people can change, and thus the entire premise of hazbin, (and frankly helluva too) is something they literally cannot understand. Refuse to understand at the least.
They don’t care about other people, they do not care if their actions in the name of their own twisted form of justice causes undue suffering, they simply want to be seen as a “good person” without putting in any actual effort to be good.
Sure, it’s easy to find a shitty person online and rake them over the coals for things they’ve said or done years ago. Effortless. But it takes real patience, compassion, perhaps slight firmness but certainly no undue cruelty to convince people they need to change, and even then, that’s a personal journey that others can at most try to influence, but they can’t make people change.
And even if the person they’re bitching about does, it’ll never be good enough.
There’s nothing Viv can do to change these peoples minds, nothing we can do. No matter how many apologies she gives they will never accept it. No matter what we say they will never accept that Viv is not fucking Satan incarnate.
Engaging with these people is a waste of time. Always has been. If Viv is so irredeemable to them, they likely look at us the same way.
I wonder what skeletons people like this must hide, anyone who acts holier than thou about being a “better” person while engaging in reprehensible behavior themselves is a rather irritating form of hypocrisy that boggles my mind.
I am no saint, god knows I’m no fucking saint, but I know what’s right and wrong and antis are wrong every. Single. Time. Any evidence they claim to have of Viv’s awful behavior is either nearly a decade old and thus clearly irrelevant given the people who vouch for her in the present, doctored discord messages (which even if they were real, shows no dates, so we have no idea how old those are to begin with) or the ‘evidence’ is so flimsy that if a lawyer looked at it he would say you’re wasting his time.
I think these people don’t like Viv’s shows because they are morally incompatible with it. They do not believe in redemption. They believe once you’ve fucked up in life, that’s it, no second chances.
I fear what they must think of our current prison population. I fear what they might say.
These people have no moral high ground whatsoever.
They dare to talk shit about the fandom, Viv, anyone else associated with the show, pretending that they’re saying what they’re saying in the name of justice, as if attacking people with their past when they have clearly changed and made apologies is in any way a justifiable thing to do.
They don’t have to like Viv, they really don’t, but calling her irredeemable, calling us irredeemable, is fucking bullshit.
None of us are irredeemable.
The fucking conceit. The fucking gall. The fucking balls on these people.
Everyone has the capacity to make good and bad choices in this life. Yes, many people don’t make the best choices, but that doesn’t mean that they should be stoned to death for the most minor of offenses. For shit that’s long been in the past and apologized for.
I’m not going to say I think very highly of humanity as a whole, I’m a fucking misanthrope through-and-through, but I don’t think we’re incapable of being good, or doing good things, we just…choose not to, a lot of the time.
I also do not deny that there are some crimes so horrible that redemption isn’t even on the table, nowhere near it. But I feel like antis treat every perceived fault of Viv as some most grievous sin that must be met with full penance by…doing what exactly?
Apologize? Again, they won’t accept it.
Donate to charities or causes? She gets shit on for it, say she’s “flaunting her wealth.”
Get off the internet entirely? In an anti’s wet dreams maybe.
Her very existence makes them so mad. It would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking pathetic.
These people twist her words in every way imaginable to make her look like some horrible person undeserving of her success, without realizing they make themselves look far worse than her by several measures.
They claim she’s racist and queerphobic, but if anything acting as if BIPOC and queer people shouldn’t ever be shown doing awful things because “bad queer/ BIPOC rep” or whatever I think is just as racist and queerphobic. Minorities are human beings, and as such they are just as capable of being shitty. I already made a post about this before, so I’ll keep this paragraph short.
They claim she’s abusive to her coworkers when it seems the one person bitching about it has no problem putting other past co workers under the bus for their personal gain. Antis claim she’s abusive while engaging in downright emotionally abusive behavior (I know that sounds kinda dramatic but I’m making a point) themselves as they shit on us for the stupidest reason imaginable: liking a cartoon.
They cry about ableism while ignoring their own.
Not that I’m all that offended if I’m honest, it’s just more evidence that antis aren’t any better than the people they bitch about.
I could go on about this for a while but you get the point.
I repeat, these people have no moral high ground whatsoever.
Frankly, as much as it bothers me that they leak patreon shit and whatnot, many fans are actively warning against them, and I think the idea of someone actively choosing to give money to someone they hate just so they have more content to shit on is fucking pathetic and getting upset about it is exactly what they want.
They want you to be just as miserable as they are. They just want to suck all the fun out of this fandom, I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again, these people are tar pits, trying to drown us in their muck. It’s pathetic and sad. No use in having sympathy, they don’t deserve any.
It’s funny how antis scream and cry about how awful we are as they ignore their own sins and mistakes, hypocrites.
If anything, their behavior is far more irredeemable than Viv’s has ever been.
I wonder when they will realize that, if they ever do. I can only hope some of them grow the fuck up and realize what the fuck they’ve done. If the ensuing guilt eats them alive, I can’t say I have pity for them.
Wonder how many of us would accept their apologies, if they chose to make one.
Alright it’s almost 7 am I gotta get to bed. Peace.
🔥🧨~Firecracker out~🧨🔥
#tis i the werebitch#vivziepop#hazbin hotel#helluva boss#btw to my followers#sorry I’ve been so extra negative lately#I just have way too much to say about this shit
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ok so i've got something that yall would probably hate me for. But ive been holding this simmering pot of angst for a while and the first thing i was taught is to share, so suffer with me.
New ROTTMNT AU:
Rather than being the only one out of his brothers to survive in the no-good-very-bad-horrible future, Leo is the only brother who dies.
Okay okay okay.
But i personally like to think that after the krang come out everything goes to shit in the bad timeline everyone goes oh fuck and start teaming up right? Human yokai cryptids mutants– none of that matters as long as you got eachothers back.
And after the initial stumbles the brothers start their active participation in the resistance.
Heres the thing.
Leo is genuinly terrifying at coming up with a plan. Kid went toe to toe with motherfucking Big Mama and came out victorious. Big Mama, as if the most terrifying yokai crime boss Big Mama. Kid came out with a smile. Its safe to say his strategies were incredibly effective and it kinda pissed off a couple of people.
Military dude 1: I can't believe i'm following a plan made by a 16 yo mutanat turtle.
Military dude 2: Your just upset the kid called out all the flaws your plan had in less than 2 seconds flat.
But the one pissed off the most were the krang. This tiny insignificant insect was able to somehow keep the resistance 3 steps ahead. So naturally, they went to take him down first.
It took a while but eventually they managed to isolate Leo. His brothers were fighting up a storm but the krang got too much and so they had to leave. Without Leo.
About a week later which involved a lot of crying and screaming, the krang brodacast a live footage of torturing Leo (my boi) before krangyfying (did i spell that right) him.
And now the krang have leo on their side. Leo, who knows everything there is to know abt the resistance (hes a gossipy bitch but thats only cuz its important to have the intel) so they are in deep shit now.
And he was a zombie for a while guys. Fighting against him always had people dying and his fam having a mental breakdown.
Eventually they take him down, but at what cost. (One of the brothers killed him. cuz angst. And now the question is who is the MOST angst) Also, Leo is the first person to die in the resistance. (Ouch)
Casey rools up and has no fucking clue who Leo is (ouch) or why his mom wanted him to take up the role as Casey's dad (HC: Cass took one look at tge record of Leo's victories against his brothers in the lair games, strategy skills and medical knowledge; and declared that he would be Casey jr.'s father. Leo was incredibly touched)
But for some reason. For soME FUCKING REASON. Kid is so much like Leo its scary. His family is near tears everytime they see him act like that. That one time he made a shitty pun and Donnie started crying.
Well its probably due to the blue imaginary friend he has that he calls Bluey. Yes we're going towards that direction. His everything comes from being influenced by the cool older brother figure he has as an imaginary friend. (Cuz of ✨Mystic Shenanigans✨ Bluey is still stuck here. Mikey is the only one who can also see him. But he cant. Cuz hes depressed)
Also without Mr. A-Ninja's-Greatest-Weapon-Is-Hope I feel like shit gets really depressing in the resistance. Everyones sad. Baby casey is sad to see everyone sad. So he asks Bluey's help and picks up his general style of humor. Angst shenanigans.
And. AND. AND. During the whole peepaws time travel back after the movie montage (I am a aimple woman w/ simple need) these depressed hunks see this tiny version of their blue brother still covered in bandages and not fully healed from the krangvasion, and their immediete reaction? Protecc.
Leo is confused abt a lot of things. The future version of his brothers that got spat out of nowhere. Casey and how that worked w/ their Casey. The blue projection of HIS angsty future self (who is pretty cool btw). PTSD. You know, the works. At this point my guy is just vibing, and honestly? The story picks up a pretty chill pace from there. Its all abt healing now baby.
So thats the rough outline of the au. And it might sound like a fucking add but heres more abt this silly little idea that came from my silly little head. -> You'll (Never) Never Be Alone
#rottmnt future au#rottmnt#rottmnt au#rottmnt future leonardo#rise tmnt#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt 2018#rottmnt leo#rottmnt disaster twins#rottmnt raph#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt donatello#rottmnt leo angst#rottmnt angst#You'll (Never) Be Alone
151 notes
·
View notes
Note
My Prince, if i may please ask a question…
It seems like it wouldn’t be too difficult to get rid of someone obsessed with their darling by pretending to have the qualities that they hate.
For example, getting pornography and leaving it somewhere for Pannacotta to find, or buying illegal drugs to make Bruno think you do drugs, even if darling wouldn’t do these things normally?
If one starts (constantly, even if they think they’re alone) acting like they have a ‘true’ side to themselves that their obsession is disgusted by, then wouldn’t they leave you alone?
Leone could easily replay your actions before you started pretending to see it’s all an act. But for others, this could work if you’re convincing enough, right?
Thank you.
You know what? You’d be right! If they were suddenly stupid.
It's not the worst attempt. Maybe they've just started having an interest in you. Maybe they don't know you as well as they'd like to yet. But, look. Pannacotta isn't stupid, and neither is Bruno.
Pannacotta is a man who values his ability to use basic pattern recognition. That doesn’t mean he won’t have a reaction, but. Think about it logically, Panna. Of course they (you) would have a personal life, or try to scare you (him) off. You (he) are (is) acting like a fucking creep!!!! Duh!!!! Bruno can ask Leone to replay your actions, but Pannacotta can't, as their relationship is strained. He has less tools, but Panna doesn't need them to figure out that you're faking to shake him. Who leaves this stuff just laying around? A pervert who needs to be "mercy" killed, that's who, but you're not supposed to be doing these things. Ughh. It's too much for him. Give him a little while, he'll consider all of his feelings, and decide what to do from there.
You're probably not expecting him to double down, but Pannacotta is obsessed, whether he likes it or not. He doesn't want to like you, you're gross, but. He's giddy at the idea of talking to you again, of you looking at him and having those sorts of thoughts, and- oh, god. He didn't just think that. He didn't just admit that. Why can't you just leave him alone????
Bruno… knows what withdrawals look like. If you’re consistently using drugs, he’d know, because he’d cut off your access to it in the first place. His logic is that you can’t hide your body’s reaction to not having it.
He sees your recent purchase, and he raises this: confiscating it and all of your money. If you’re really addicted, you’d sell your things to get your fix. Would you sell your prized possession? Sentimental objects? Are you going to ask someone for a favor? Would you sell your body for just a little? Would you ask him?
You'd need to be such a convincing actor that Bruno Bucciarati is reminded of all the addicts he's ever had to deal with- an association that he'd like his darling to be nowhere near. If you do fool him (or genuinely are an addict), he'd just lead you through going clean. I don't think Bruno's problem is the drugs itself- if you're an adult (Which you should be if you're reading this), you can smoke. You can drink. Children cannot, and his problem is pushing drugs on children who haven't had the chance to develop yet- although he has a distaste for those who do it in public. He has sons, don't be a bad influence on them. He'll still love you, of course he does, we all have our struggles.
Leone, however, isn't the most intelligent on team Bucciarati. He’s average, but, look. I see every single member of team Bucciarati outshining him in the ‘figuring things out, and quickly’ category. Even Narancia knows when something's off- gut feelings over real logic, but still. Leone's quick to blame himself and outside sources before he'd consider blaming the best thing that's ever happened to him. The tricky part of that is that Leone doesn't have the same turn offs that the prudes above him do- the type of person he falls for doesn't have to be good, he just thinks they are. You're mean to him? Deserved, he's a dick to you. Good luck weirding him out.
Back to the topic of my last post of yanderes having some sort of fault. Something you can exploit and theoretically abuse... Yanderes are only human- Bruno was once a little boy. So was Pannacotta. For some yanderes, you can pick and prod at their insecurities, for others, you can express how off-put you are. Everyone's different. If you really wanted to shake Panna, you'd have to commit. A little pornography will upset and disgust Pannacotta, but he's too obsessed to let you go. Bruno's a committed husband who won't abandon his spouse for a little problem that you can recover from.
Have you ever stayed with someone that wronged you? Forgiven something that's entirely unforgivable? Most yanderes- especially delusional yanderes- won't let you go because you're attempting to break their fantasy. I think it's possible, but not with those two. Or three, rather. Leone's there too.
What does being let go mean, though? Do you assume that if they don't like you anymore, it means you're free to go? Some yanderes are compelled to change you, or they'll just kill you. Would you let your ex just roam free if they knew you killed people? So trusting.
#request granted#clearing out my inbox reqs aren't open#now I want to rank team bucciaratis intelligence#yandere pannacotta fugo#yandere bruno bucciarati#yandere leone abbacchio#my meds wore off mid writing this can you tell
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Aforementioned Napoleonic AU! Martian !! I said it would just be a wip but then oops, I basically finished it! Ty to everyone who was interested :D
Really really proud of these I'm ngl! I rendered in a really different way than ever before and I'm very satisfied with it :D
Ramble about historical influences(basically me being a nerd about who I consider the F1 drivers of the Napoleonic era):
So I wanted to explain my thought process because I think that the specific context behind the uniforms I drew is very relevant, as I didn't just pick them on a whim.
I drew them in Hussars' uniforms(Austrian Empire = Red Bull, but like obviously not 100% accurate because the uniform colors are based off the RBR racesuits.) Hussars are, in my opinion, the F1 drivers of their time. Let me quote several things that led me to this conclusion:
"During the Napoleonic period, hussars, as in all armies, were employed as scouts, given raiding missions or despatched to harry and pursue a defeated enemy on the run. Mounted on light, nimble horses..."
"...Their flamboyant costume and their reputation for daredevil acts..."
"...developed a romanticized image of being dashing and adventurous.
Okay....so they're dashing and adventurous, riding specifically on fast, light horses, dressed in flamboyant outfits committing daredevil acts...sir that is literally an F1 driver!!! Tell me they aren't the historical predecessor to F1 drivers!!!
I have this big book of Napoleonic uniforms(yea I'm a nerd) and I was paging through it to see what uniforms I wanted to draw(I have a habit of drawing my one oc in the Napoleonic era. So when I started drawing fanart, I'm like of course I must draw them as this!) Austria's normal uniforms in this era are soooo boring compared to France's, so I was really 😒 about drawing them, but then I came across the Hussars, and then started noticing all these similarities and thought it was perfect. Also I need to mention the fact that Austria's royal cipher at the time was literally this:
IT'S "F1", IT IS LITERALLY FUCKING F1, WHAT THE HELLLLL!?!?!?!? I had like a partial mental crisis coming across this, at that point it was destiny for me to draw this
*I forgot to include actual ref images 😐, so here you go!!
*I wrote most of his around when I started this drawing, which was all the way back in April. And it's really interesting to consider now that I was basically immersed in the history of the Austrian Empire for a month. I apologize to everyone in my life who had to endure my lecture on why Hussars are the F1 drivers of their time. But god I could not hold it back when I saw some of these uniforms in person. And it was cool to pull out this drawing, even if it was just a wip, and be like "oh hey I've drawn these!!" Anyways, I digress.
Obviously the martian drawing is a direct reference to this pic from Malaysia 2010:
My thoughts on this picture:
I almost wanted to draw Seb in the Austrian Kaiser's outfit, but it is nowhere near as slay as the Hussar uniform, so Hussar uniform it is!
I have many thoughts and opinions on the lore of this au so pls ask if you're curious but it's also just a lot.
#me: i will draw anything but their racing suits idk how to draw that :(#also me: then procedes to draw them in the most complicated uniforms ever#like seriously how is this easier to me than fucking race suits????#catie will draw anything but normal f1 fanart#you will only get weird AUs that have even me going 'why did i make this???'#as ive said before i have burnout most of the time but then will be able to draw for hours at a time every once in a while#this was one of those times.#ty to everyone who said theyre interested!! you guys made my brain kick into gear#like the before of what i was gonna post compared to what i actually finished is pretty insane#i drew that seb drawing and discovered a method of rendering that was easier to me#so then i was able to go back and finish that drawing and not go mental over it#i just have a habit of being overly meticulous and then not being able to finish things#so these are great cause it was kinda just 'fuck it'#but god i genuinely actually love drawing napoleonic uniforms its very soothing to me#as if you couldnt tell my weird obsession already when i said that napoleon painting is my fav painting ever#anyways please take my weird obsession fanart !! i am pleased w it :D#i asked if anyone was interested bcs i think i couldn't just post this without preface LOL#martian#sebmark#mark webber#sebastian vettel#f1#formula 1#f1 fanart#formula 1 fanart#catie.art.#<- i use that tag every once in a blue moon fr#hussar au
88 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sorry if it is somewhere else, but why is gold a no-no on Andros, in your rewrite?
Aaaah you’re fine! Add this to the list of lore things I thought I had already posted about and then when searching realized no,, it’s just been sitting in my brain for years🥲
The short answer: all ores native to Andros are shades of gray/silver
There are large cracks in the land that stretch far and wide and even dip down into the shallow waters (and deeper still into the ocean too) where the Androsians live.
They have a robust metalworking industry focused on jewelry and combining that with their other preferred decorative pieces too (shells, jewels, stones, etc).
The more fun answer: It being held in such high regard has its origins with a folk story from long long ago that talks about how the Moon (integral to the way the ocean works obviously, just like on Earth) wept upon the separation of the sky from the sea, feeling it lost so much of its sister, the sea, so suddenly.
The Moon’s response was a grand storm shortly after said separation, influenced by the Moons emotions. These tears fell in big streams down into the ocean, and the waves and rough currents swept over everything for a time, spreading its tears throughout the whole planet, pounding it into the newly formed land too.
The Androsians were having trouble surviving this great endless typhoon, and the goddess who separated the ocean and the sky for the benefit of the Androsian people, came to plea to the moon, to ask what could possibly be done to appease it. The moon requested they merge the sea and the sky again, but for the beings of Andros to thrive, that wasn’t an option, said the goddess. The Moon deep down understood this, but was still hurt. The Moon thought for a bit, the storms subsiding some as it did, and eventually it said it was lonely, the sea so far away from it now. They wouldn’t be able to have as much fun as they used to when they were closer.
Thinking on this, the goddess eventually asked if it would like another sibling, one next to it all the time so it would never be lonely. It said yes, and from the land the goddess took some of the earth and formed a smaller moon to exist alongside it, this one containing a lot of the silver from the tears that the waves brought to the land. This will be your new sibling, said the goddess, and with it, some of your tears returned to you from the sea itself, to remind you that you are still connected, even though you are further apart now. The moon was appeased, and finally satisfied, stopped its weeping, and addressed the beings of Andros.
Go forth, it said, and prosper upon what was given to you by the sacrifice of my sister the sea to make the sky. But do not forget, despite there now being sky, you aren’t to forget my strength or my sister’s sacrifice. The tears I have shed are yours to create with to honor what I have lost and what I still harbor my influence over.
Old shrines and ceremonial pieces with silver are commonplace on Andros, to honor the moon and its sibling, whom themself is covered with silver and helps to calm the moon.
At this point silver is synonymous with the moon and its power, the royal family having it present in much of their official garb and accessories. They are in a way seen as ceremonial vessels of the moon and its power, present over land and sea through the tears it once cried and spread through the planet.
Other metals are allowed now due to things like trade and commerce, but they’re nowhere near as popular and some people with more traditional views see it as kinda sacrilegious or unappreciative for Androsians or people representing Andros to wear it.
Musa is dating Aisha and is by proxy supposed to be acting as an extension of her. Like I said in the other post, her being not Androsian at all is a huge fucking problem for their governmental structure, which is already dealing with pushback with the way their current population is pushing more and more for things to be, now she, as someone who is an extension of the royal family, the moon’s vessels, is wearing fucking Gold. They associate it culturally with the sun like on other certain planets, which while a significant thing is far less important than the 2 moons present by a landslide. Anything in the royal court must be silver and must be from the planet itself. Musa wearing gold while being alongside Aisha is considered a big middle finger to those in government and they’re fucking pissed.
#winx club#winx#asks#lore#world building#winx club rewrite#winx rewrite#winx redo#winx remake#snarky winx#I should use that for my stuff
38 notes
·
View notes
Note
okay so hear me out, I have a theory.......... I think men are physically stronger than women, yes, but I think women are emotionally stronger than men. Think about it. Sure, theres a lot of emotionally weak women- "handmaidens" for example. But women has always had the advantage of being able to emotionally adapt to the cruelist of environments. Women have always been the ones to teach compassion and empathy.
Im not one of those people who say "oh men are all terrible, they all lack empathy and emotions" but I do think its true that women are the ones who are emotionally superior to men.
Men love to paint women as "emotionally fragile" crybabies and all that. The "hysterical women". They see women's emotional superiority as weakness instead of a gift. When in reality, its always been an advantage.
I mean look at the crime statistics. Look how many men turn to violence (which requires emotional immaturity) when things don't go their way.
Look how TiMs act compared to TiFs. Look how any women acts when she idolizes/relies on men, she becomes emotionally immature.
And if you think about it biologically and spiritually, it makes sense. To survive, women needed to rely on her emotions to weed out undesirable mates. Men needed to be physically strong to defend. Women may be physically weaker, but men are emotionally weaker.
This is why men are such threats. It's that lack of emotion that is dangerous. It's also why abuse from a mother can be more damaging than abuse from a father. Mothers are meant to be the nurturing counterpart. Mothers teach you how to control your emotions and be a better leader as mothers are inherently the "leader" of the relationship. When that relationship is fucked up, when the father is the one "in charge", it destroys everything because the father is less emotional and more out of control. It's why most abusive fathers are more outwardly aggressive. Yet women, who have abusive fathers, are better at handling it than men. Yet when a woman has an abusive mother, it hits harder because it affects her emotional growth.
I like how mainstream media loves to paint abusive mothers as more common than it is. Don't get me wrong, I grown up with an abusive mom. But what people don't talk about is that more often than not it's reactionary abuse. A lot of moms I've seen who were abusive were also "boy moms". It's fucking rare to see a mother who's just naturally abusive toward her children without influence from a man or drugs. Not saying it doesnt happen, but its not "common". Its nowhere near an "unspoken issue thats bigger than people think".
I dunno, im being controversial lol
I FUCKING HAD A CONVERSATION LIKE THIS THE OTHER DAY GIRL I AM GRABBING YOU BY YOUR SHOULDERS AND SHAKING YOU SO HARD BECAUSE YES!!!!!!!!! YES YES YES SYNFHAYZSYSYCYES
yes
YES
THEY LOOOOVE SAYING "women are soooo emotional lol" but they are the ones who KILL WOMEN FOR SAYING 'NO' TO THEM
and
OFTEN
when
MOTHERS ABUSE their KIDS it stems from abuse that came from other places in their lives, the media LOVES talking about evil mothers and highlighting it but men constantly abuse their kids because theyre all emotionally immature idiots who dont know how to regulate their emotions by nature
stoppppp im so happy we're mutuals youre so fucking SMART I WISH I COULD KISS UR BRAIN
20 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
parenthasees
Parenthasees
tinypersonagiantpurse-blog
Tahaelhomossani
goodproofingwater
if we burn, you burn with us
godotdraw
I Draw What I Love
jpax-akrasia
i was lost in a dream of today