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chunksworld · 1 year ago

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Double Fantasy

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader | (Tags: Smut)

A/N: Apologies for the long hiatus, ya boi was busy with life. Also, thank you @kaedespicelatte as always for beta reading. ————————

“My room. I’m giving you 15 minutes or we’re never doing this again.”

Kim Minji be damned.

You hate how every ounce of self-respect you have flies out of the window when it comes to her, as if you’re nothing but an outlet for her carnal desires (as she was to you). And perhaps you are—maybe it was just part of your delusion to think that she perceives you differently than the hundreds of men that shamelessly ogle her. That she views you more than just that guy that fucks her so good she struggles to keep that mouth of hers shut. But who are you to complain? Every encounter with her leaves you starstruck, wanting for more, tongue tied—as if she commands an unquantifiable amount of gravity that leaves you speechless literally and figuratively. As much as your brain is telling you that she’s dangerous, that everything that’s happening between the two of you can jeopardize everything you’ve worked so hard for, it’s the thrill that keeps you coming back time and time again.

I mean who would’ve thought that the two top students on campus would be engaging in such unholy acts? Not when everyone (your professors included) think of you two as the embodiment of the values that this very institution was established upon. The beacons of hope that would serve as inspirations for the rest of your peers, that through hard work they can attain the level of success that you two have. That couldn’t be any more farther than the truth however. Certainly your after school hookups with her inside empty classrooms, behind the bleachers, and inside the gym showers would beg to differ. But it’s not like you have any morals, that disappeared eons ago when you found yourself down this treacherous path of self-destruction in an attempt to alleviate the stress that comes with such expectations and responsibilities.

On the surface their perception of you two is true; students that constantly receive top marks in every subject and find themselves involved in as many activities and clubs as possible. Racking up awards was just second nature, as you would always receive the highest recognition much like she did over the years. It was only natural for a rivalry to spark between you and her; a byproduct of your competitiveness and your desire to come out on top. It was friendly at first, you would congratulate each other and encourage the other to do better next time. But it soon became ugly, the once wholesome banter turning into horrifying insults that you wouldn’t even think to come out of your mouth—needless to say you both became jealous of each other, of how successful the other one became.

You could say it was a petty affair, one that was exacerbated by the fact that everyone was pressuring you two to continuously be the best—a mental strain that proved to be too much. It was something that only happened behind closed doors though, everyone still thought you had an amicable relationship with her when everything was actually already falling apart. Yelling and screaming and arguing, truly an ugly sight. You would often talk about how you couldn’t stand how condescending she was towards you every time you made a mistake and she in turn would talk about how much she hates your ego. But it also involved even the smallest of things including how you thought her boyfriend was a dick because she would rarely see him (she claimed he was busy all the time but you knew better).

And with two extremely combustible elements in constant interaction with one another, an explosion was bound to occur. After months and months of arguing, it finally happened. It was midterms week and you two were extremely stressed (it didn’t help that you were only getting on average two to three hours of sleep and consuming an unhealthy amount of energy drinks). Oh, and that dick of a boyfriend she had broke up with her. She was inconsolable to say the least— but when you brought up how much you didn’t like him and blamed her for dating him in the first place like the asshole you were, that's when things took a turn. You know you fucked up, that it was a line crossed and that such words should have never been uttered. But instead of receiving a resounding slap on the face, you found yourself kissing her.

Or rather, Minji kissing you. And any sane person would react by trying to pull away in shock but you couldn’t find yourself doing it. Perhaps this was something that was bound to happen. All of those arguing and bickering, maybe it was just a ruse. The urgency, the passion, the look of desperation in her eyes; they told the story. Maybe it was the caffeine, maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was something more. Whatever it is, she needed you as much as you needed her. She was coming off a terrible breakup and you, well—you would be lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t find her attractive because who didn’t? There’s a reason why she’s rejected at least half of the male students, and you definitely don’t miss the way some of them would glare at you because of how suspiciously close you were to her.

In that aspect, a part of you considers this a small victory; especially when she grabs you by the collar and pulls you in deeper, as if the thought of letting you go would be the end of her. It was intense and as much as your senses were firing from all cylinders, your brain was telling you that this wasn’t right. You were supposed to hate her, she was your mortal enemy. What would everyone think? That the two top students were hooking up with—close the fucking door before I change my mind. Right. Every rationale you may have had was gone in an instant. The prospect of a classmate, a member of the maintenance crew, or worse—a staff potentially catching the two of you never crossed your mind. Not when you had her bent over the desk at one point screaming you’re fucking me so good and don’t stop while you rearrange her guts. Or when you had her pinned against the wall and pumped her so full of cum that she finally gave you her number after because she wanted you two to do it all over again.

Did the room reek of sex? Sure. That’s why she’s made it a habit to bring a bottle of air freshener to mask the scent during your subsequent “study sessions.” And were people starting to notice how you two would frequently stay up late despite not always having a busy workload? Definitely. But you could care less. In fact, nothing else matters. You were addicted to her in more ways than one, not romantically however. That was something she made abundantly clear the day after—clearly she was one to establish boundaries which you respected. Yet here you are, frantically putting on some nice clothes and making yourself smell nice with that twenty dollar bottle of perfume that she hates. Fuck it, why even bother? Your clothes will be thrown to God knows where the moment you enter her place anyways. At least put on a face mask, especially since you’ll be sneaking your way to her dorm once again and you don’t want another close encounter with the security guard.

Fortunately there wasn’t any problem, your disguise actually worked this time around but you still have to be cautious. It’s a quick elevator ride yet it takes forever, maybe it’s because you two haven’t had sex in the past two weeks and you’re just dying to get a taste of her again, to feel her irresistible body against yours. Look around before knocking on the door three times and fortunately you didn’t have to wait any longer. Minji hastily pulls you inside and grabs you by your hoodie for a kiss—immediately you get a taste of her favorite cinnamon lip balm. Her strength (which still surprises you to this day) forces you to move backwards and you find your back pressed against her door. Hands roam each other’s bodies and you groan as you feel her fingers cup your bulge. Fuck, why are you so hard already?

You’re not one to just let her do what she wants so you avoid her chasing lips to plant yours on her neck, biting and nipping on her smooth skin while your own fingers creep underneath her shirt. “D-Don’t fucking mark me. I—shit—I’ve got a presentation tomorrow.” Minji finally speaks and you would’ve gladly granted her wish but with the way she’s leaning her head back, it didn’t seem like her words were matching her actions. Much more so when you grab on the hem of that same shirt and pull it up and she willfully raises her arms so you can remove it. And before you even get the opportunity to appreciate her body, your sweatpants are already being pulled down. Help her out by kicking that obstructive garment away; in fact you end up removing your hoodie as well which only leaves you with your boxers on and it barely conceals your raging desire for her.

“This is your fault. Your fault for making me wait so damn long.” You don’t miss the way she bites her lips at the sight of your bulge, even as you make your way further down with your mouth and proceed to mark her collarbones and her cleavage. Her deft fingers continue to distract you however, pulling your boxers down and wrapping her cold digits around your throbbing and pulsating cock. The effect on you is immediate as you can do nothing but lean your head back and groan shamelessly. Minji smirks, especially because this is one of the only few times she has the upper hand on you; when you’re just putty in her arms and rendered breathless by her actions. It gets even worse when she slowly begins to pump you, drawing more precum out of your tip with how badly you just want to ravage her.

“You poor thing.” You can feel her hot breath against your ear, sending more shivers down your spine as she’s decided that it’s now her turn to leave marks on you. It’s apparent that Kim Minji is just as possessive as you, even though neither one of you wants to reveal your dirty little secret to everyone. “Guess you couldn’t last that long without me, huh? Were those pictures I sent not enough?” Of course they weren’t, no amount of thirst pics of her in her underwear can satiate your endless lust towards her. Nothing can replace her hands, the way she can just work you to submission and make you so impatient. “I can’t blame you.” Her teeth sink into your jugular like a vampire. “I’ve been thinking about how much I want you to rail me into the bed, to make me moan so fucking load, to make me choke on your cock. Will you do all of that for me?”

You’re ashamed by how much that turned you on, as if a switch has been flipped inside you. You don’t miss a beat and lift her up by her waist which makes her squeal; her legs wrap around you while you carry her towards her bed. No more foreplay, you almost throw her onto the bed before yanking her shorts and her panties in the process. They’re discarded along with the rest of your clothing somewhere in the room. Her bra follows suit as well—you can’t believe she’s had it on for this long. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I want to put a load in you. Until you’re filled with so much cum that all you can think about is my cock.” You spread her long legs open and it’s clear that everything she said is true; her clit is puffed and her inner thighs are already drenched with her juices.

Kneel in front of her and carefully position your length inside her. “Gonna fuck you now.” Through gritted teeth, Minji nods; her fingers gripping your biceps while her legs are already pulling you in. You sink into her further and further, drinking her moans and whispered curses until you bottom out inside her. She still feels so good, so tight, so warm. You have to silence her mouth with a kiss because her moans are increasing in volume as you gradually increase her pace. “So, so fucking good. You’re gonna drain me dry.” Feel her nails digging into your shoulders and back, you’re definitely going to feel the sting of the scratches she’s leaving tomorrow morning but that’s not your concern for now. A bite of your bottom lip further confirms that she’s in an equal state of euphoria and you respond by continuing to fuck her with the same pace and intensity.

You’re careful not to make the bed creak but that’s fortunately an art that you’ve already mastered given the circumstances. But even with her luscious thighs wrapped around you, it’s not enough to have her drunk on your cock, you want her to beg for it like her life depends on it. You pause for a brief moment much to her verbal disappointment before pressing her legs against her chest to effectively fuck her in mating press. You know it’s her favorite position because an uncharacteristically loud moan escapes her mouth the moment you resume your fucking, your fingers gripping the bedsheet for support. “F-Fuck! Please, keep fucking me. So—damn—big!” You’re going to have to kiss her again because she’s slowly losing her grip on her surroundings, only focused on how much you’re pounding her into the bed.

“This is what you wanted, right? I bet not even your toys can fuck you this deep.” Minji doesn’t answer but her body responds for her; a particularly deep thrust has her clinging on to you for dear life. Her breasts pressing up against you and followed by the rest of her body. Bury your face on the crook of her neck, inhaling her addicting scent as you can feel her tightening ever so slightly around your cock. It’s becoming more of an effort to thrust inside her now, especially when you’re fucking her balls deep with every motion of your hips. Only broken sentences and curses are leaving her mouth at this very moment, along with shameless moans of your name as if she’s not afraid to reveal to everyone just how much the model student is getting dicked down by her fellow model student.

Maybe she isn’t. Maybe that’s part of the thrill after all, the aspect of getting caught. But that’s not your worry at this moment; not when that said model student is beginning to tighten even more and her breathing is becoming more hurried. You pull away to look at her facial expression and it’s painted with nothing but lust. The way her face is misted with sweat, her eyes closed, and her mouth open. It’s clear that her orgasm is just right around the corner. “C-Coming! I’m so fucking close, don’t you dare fucking stop.” You don’t care that your abs are burning, that’s what those 7 AM workouts in the gym are for. It’s for moments like these, when her nails are damn near close to breaking your skin and tears are starting to well on her eyes. It then becomes your goal to break her, like you always do during these sessions.

And it’s during another particularly deep thrust that her orgasm hits her like lightning, her pussy becoming unimaginably tight as if she wants you to join her in her euphoria as well. She’s almost crying, her body twitching uncontrollably as you pin her down to the bed. Tears eventually do fall due to the overwhelming pleasure, that makeup that you’re only noticing now is completely destroyed. Her juices begin to soak your length and the sheets underneath. She’s biting her lips so hard that it’s starting to bleed, get rid of the blood by giving her open-mouthed kisses. But you’re so focused on helping her come down from her high that you don’t realize that you’re about to explode as well, Perhaps you might, because you’re starting to throb madly as you continue to fuck her through her powerful orgasm.

You spread her legs as far as you can, pistoning into her with no abandon. More of her juices stream out and you’re almost apologetic because of the mess that she’s going to have to clean up. But it’s really hard to focus on anything else when her pussy is still pulsating, continuing to urge you to join her in her orgasm. “Need your cum inside me, don’t you dare pull out.” It’s not like you had any intentions to in the first place, not when her suffocating warmth is begging to drain your balls for everything it has. The tension is building, rising, culminating—one animalistic growl after you bottom out and you’re pumping ropes and ropes of semen deep inside her. It floods her walls, it overflows, and you just can’t stop pushing it as deep inside her as possible. To make sure that her womb is completely filled with your cum and nothing else. It’s downright euphoric, the way her name leaves your lips like it’s a mantra. The way all of it triggers a smaller, second orgasm from her—truly wringing you dry.

It takes minutes for your movement to come to a halt, and by then your orgasm has completely subsided and so has hers. You feel her arms pull you in for a kiss, a much slower and passionate one compared to earlier. As if she’s saying thanks, because her voice is probably already gone. Or perhaps she’s just preserving her energy because if there’s anything you know about Minji, it’s that one round is not enough for her. If that’s the case then you better get a quick rest. Pull out of her and watch your excess semen drip out of her and down to her thighs. It’s truly a sight that you’ll never get tired of time and time again. Even more so when she takes a finger and takes a sample of your combined juices. It doesn’t take too long for your cock to become fully erect once again despite your orgasm just mere minutes ago.

There’s no time to contemplate though as Minji saves you the trouble because the next thing you know her perfectly shaped ass is raised and facing you, her arms bracing herself on the bed as she clearly shows you what she wants. “Need you to cum in me again, can you do that for me?” There’s no more time to waste, take a glance at the bedside clock and it’s already way past midnight—any noise at this hour would further alert people. You quickly kneel behind her, positioning your cock once again inside her pussy but this time in a much swifter manner. But despite all of the lubrication she’s so much tighter in this position. Grab on her ass for support and leverage as you begin to thrust, it’s a sight to behold that is her curves and back covered with sweat and her hair becoming a disheveled mess.

She’s much more silent this time, thanks to the fact that her moans are being muffled by the pillows. This slow tempo also gives you time to recover, though it’s clear that she wants you to be rough with her once again with the way she’s moving her hips in a back and forth motion. Fine, if that’s what she wants then that’s what she gets. Just thirty seconds is all you need to recover, especially when you’ve got that heavenly view in front of you. You grab her by the arms and pull her upright until her back is pressed against your chest, your hands palming her breasts as you suddenly increase your pace. It’s your favorite position because not only is her body pressed against yours but you can view everything about her up close—her ruined mascara, her swollen lip, the dried tears on her face.

Your fingers slowly creep up to her neck as you fuck her with all of your remaining strength, quieting her with more kisses—also because you just love kissing the hell out of her due to how irresistible and soft her lips are. She might’ve had another orgasm already but you’re too far gone, too caught up in chasing your own that you don’t notice. Either way, it only takes ten minutes this time for you to unload whatever remaining load you had (which is surprisingly a lot considering that when you pull out, a copious amount of semen is dripping out of her now swollen pussy once again). Now you’re truly spent, crashing on her twin sized bed that can barely fit the two of you so you always end up cuddling post sex. And as crazy as it sounds, this is the part of this whole ordeal that you’re oh-so-afraid of. Will she hear how quickly your heart beats when her head is resting on it? Will she find out that you’re slowly starting to wish that there was more between you two? Despite the fact that it’s an incredibly terrible idea that could have major implications in your future?

“Take me out to dinner first.” Minji is the first one to break the silence and the words that come out of her mouth completely terrifies you—it almost makes you jump out of the bed.

“What?”

“I’m not stupid.” Minji looks up to you, then places a gentle kiss on the hickey she left on your neck. “We’ve been hooking up for five months and you’re telling me there’s no way you haven’t fallen in love with me yet?”

Maybe you have.

Then you remember how angry you felt when her boyfriend broke up with her and you couldn’t do anything about it; you just wanted to barge inside her room and hold her in your arms and apologize for being such a dick and you couldn’t. You wanted to tell her that she deserves better because she truly does, but whether it was you that deserved to take that place in her heart you didn’t know. You were mortified at the thought of your relationship only remaining at such a stage—even though she made it crystal clear that she didn’t want anything to develop between you two. But it’s all in the past now—which begs the question: have you truly fallen in love with her? It only takes one look at those eyes and the way her lips curl upwards and how she fits so perfectly in your arms and how you wish you could be with her forever and how it all completely fucks up your equilibrium.

Yeah.

Of course you have.

#newjeans smut #minji smut #kim minji smut #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #reader insert #smut

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nayatarot777 · 2 years ago

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how does your family view you? • pick-a-card

*please remember that this is your family’s perception of you. it might not be how you perceive yourself.

• pile one •

overall, i see a very positive and empowering perception that your family has of you.

first of all, they know that you’re intuitive af. clairvoyant specifically. you can see through situations and people clearly. aspects of things that they themselves perhaps miss. they feel like you can’t be lied to or tricked, so for a lot of you, your family doesn’t worry about you being naive within your friendships, relationships, and life in general. you’re not easily fooled.

there’s something about your anger too. they might see you rebuild yourself after experiencing destruction in your life - especially if someone has betrayed you or fucked you over. it seems as though you use that anger to rebirth yourself into a more “upgraded” version of yourself. you learn lessons quickly and seem to not make the same mistakes again. and thanks to your increase in awareness after these tower moments, these newfound experiences are added to your internal library of knowledge for your intuition to pick up on if similar people or situations are presented to you yet again.

you know your own power, so your family sees you as the person who dares to possess dreams and aspirations for yourself that not many others in your family would have the courage to put trust into achieving. and they know that your rebirths are motivated by what you see for yourself and your life in the future. they feel like you have a very good self esteem - or at least a high level of trust in yourself and your abilities. they feel as though you have a figurative crown on your head. if your parents are very successful people (whether that’s due to their career, building their lives from little to nothing - especially if they’re immigrants and worked hard to build the life that they have) then they believe that you’re someone who will continue on their legacy of success in your own way. i’m hearing that they don’t worry about where you’re gonna end up in life because the trust in yourself puts trust in them that you’ll build a legacy of your own.

they also see you as very head-strong. someone who controls and leads your life in whatever way you want to. you don’t seem to take no for an answer, nor pause your journey in the face of obstacles. there’s a lot of drive that you have when it comes to determining what your world looks like according to your vision. there’s something untameable about you. almost like you don’t listen to anyone. you trust that you know what’s best for you so you’re the ruler of your own kingdom with your clear vision.

despite all of your seemingly extravagant or unconventional dreams, your family believes that you’re extremely grounded in reality. you have a great balance of living within your internal world as well as the physical world. in stressful moments of life, you can balance out your emotions and view things practically. you have a good head on your shoulders and you listen to what comes from your heart space. what you actually feel in all of its authenticity and honesty.

your family also believes that you’re extremely body confident. whether this is because you take care of your body through exercise and eating well, or because you dress however the fuck you want to. the way that you dress could be a style that shows off your body for a lot of you. your family sees your self love and your self worth through this.

significant numbers: 12, 13, 28, 24, 15, 21

astrological placements/aspects: pisces/neptune, scorpio/pluto, aries/mars, taurus/venus

for more readings, check out my patreon!

• pile two •

your family views you as someone who has already undergone or who is undergoing some type of powerful personal growth within yourself. this could be related to listening to yourself and your own intuition. your family may feel like you feel as though you can’t trust them, despite trying to for so long. but for some of you, they can tell that you’ve finally decided to listen to yourself and see them for who they truly are. they can see sadness in your eyes or in your face whenever they look at you. there’s a feeling of betrayal here - from them towards you - that they recognise.

they view you as someone who feels detached from them. they could try to show you love but they can tell that you feel uncomfortable whenever they do. they’d describe the familial “love” between you and them as strange or unfamiliar to you. this “love” could’ve come after they realised that you were growing more distant from them as a last attempt at keeping you close to them. but again, they know that you know the truth about them and so the feeling of awkwardness during these attempts at trying to show affection towards you is mutually felt. they feel like you don’t want their love. like you’d rather just be left alone by them. these family members may be very energetically draining and this is how you protect your energy from them. and there’s also a feeling of this love being forced. not genuine. it’s fake or forced out of them for a lot of you and you can see that.

they might also be aware of some body image issues that you have. or this might just be their perception of you - especially if you have any body modifications like tattoos and piercings that they don’t approve of. they view this as “mutilation” of your body. i’m also seeing them view you as someone who’s very protective over your body with the clothing that you wear. based on the way that you completely cover up or your oversized clothing. so if you do have any body image issues, they might’ve picked up on them based on that observation. at least you dress like this around them. you might be uncomfortable wearing certain things around your family because they always have some comments to make about your body. but i am sensing some shame about your body for some of you. i’m seeing that for a lot of you, your family feels like you don’t treat your body like a temple. if these are the same people who’d make negative, nitpicking comments about your body then idk wtf they expect. that might’ve been their goal tbh (for those of you with malignant ass, jealous ass family members who want you to feel like shit about the way that you look).

for others of you, it’s the opposite and your family feels like you dress “too revealingly” in public or maybe online in your social media posts. for a minority of you, your family knows about your online sex work (or this is an assumption that they’ve made about you). but for some of you, there’s something about your family feeling like you’re too naked in the public eye. this could also be metaphorical, meaning that your family may feel like you’re well-known by people but i don’t get a good energy from this (from their perspective anyway). they may feel like you’re known for something that’s not a positive thing to be known for. or like you’re just vulnerable in the public eye.

they view you as someone who takes the time to take steps forward in your life. and they may feel like you’re waiting on divine timing to make moves in your life. but some of your family members view this as you just being lost and “behind” in life in some way. like your head is just up in the clouds and like you don’t really know where you’re headed in life. they don’t understand moving forward when you feel like you should be moving.

they know that you have a lot of childhood trauma to unpack. and they feel like your heart is blocked or locked because of it. for some of you, your family would like to figure out how to unlock it but i feel like they feel as though there’s not much that they can do. you may have been a very angry child, and i feel like you’re not necessarily an angry person now but your family can tell that you’re suppressing a lot. and that in order to unlock your heart (your feelings), you’re going to have to let out a lot of anger and resentment first.

significant numbers: 41, 27, 2, 18, 24, 35

astrological placements/aspects: chiron, venus in scorpio/8th house, venus conjunct chiron (particularly in the 4th house/conjunct the ic), taurus, lilith in taurus/2nd house, aquarius/uranus, lilith in 11th house/aquarius, pisces/neptune, mercury in pisces, chiron in 4th house, chiron in 5th house, aries/mars in 5th house, sun in aries, pluto in 1st house, scorpio rising, chiron in aries, chiron aspect mars (mainly conjunct)

for more readings, check out my patreon!

• pile three •

your family view you as someone who prefers to be alone. even if you know that there are people around you who love and care for you, you still prefer to be by yourself. and some of them can tell that it’s because you only feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with yourself.

they also might view you as quite messy too, whether this is your bedroom or your home in general. but there’s a lack of energy that they witness you having that’s the root cause of this.

despite all of this, they view you as someone who’s very accepting of your solitude that you use for the sake of finding peace. you could be very meditative or very peaceful by yourself within your own energy. and they feel as though, whenever they bother you in your alone time, you become very defensive and repel them. some of you may struggle with depression, but it’s not depression that you want help with. not from them at least.

this energy is vastly different to how they viewed you before. maybe compared to when you were a child. because there was some type of sudden shift in your energy towards them that resulted in you being very isolated and repellent towards them.

they either feel like they don’t know you after this shift or they feel like you don’t really know yourself. someone in your family in particular feels like you’re forgetting who you are who where you came from. maybe even who you came from. they feel like you wear a mask around them. as if there’s always a detachment between you and them. kind of similar to pile two.

i’m getting a lot of “black sheep” energy from you guys. like your family just doesn’t understand you but they know that you’re not really interested in being involved with family gatherings or interactions. if you believe that they do know that you know who you are very well, they view you as someone who hides who you truly are from them. and if you’ve always been singled out or you’ve just always felt different to everyone around you then it makes sense.

they view you as someone who’s at peace with yourself though. just not at peace when being around them. this could make them deeply sad and upset as there’s an energy of them not being able to quite pinpoint why this is the way it is. unlike in pile two. pile two’s family we’re outwardly toxic. but for you guys, i feel like your family just don’t understand you. maybe they never really tried to make an effort to. but whatever the culprit of the reasons behind your familial connections, there are a lot of unknown things that your family feels like they don’t know or understand about you.

significant numbers: 17, 9, 17, 6, 22, 10 - look up the angel number 1717 for an extra message

astrological placements/aspects: pisces, leo, pluto in 5th house, (heavy) scorpio, lilith in 4th house, pluto in 4th house, strong sun-pluto aspects, connection between cancer + scorpio/pluto placements

for more readings, check out my patreon!

#pick a card #psychic readings #pac #tarot reading #pick a photo #tarot #pac reading #pick a picture

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qinchez · 5 months ago

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━ .ᐟ₊⊹ PAIRING: myth/dragon sylus, x female mc ( mc’s name is surina ).

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ SUMMARY: tidbits of conversation have an immediate effect on sylus, making him reminiscent his earlier days with his beloved.

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ GENRE: very myth focused. heavy angst. no comfort.

━ .ᐟ₊⊹ NOTES: i started writing only recently and english isn’t my first language so take this with a grain of salt. quotes mentioned are not mine but canonically in the game.

“i made it while you were getting your marshmallows. i didn’t have a lot of time, so the final product is rough around the edges …. are you satisfied with it, my beloved?”

ruby eyes facing iridescent ones. warmth being spread along one’s face and through their hearts, the source of heat not caused from the bonfire but the blossoming feelings exchanged between them both.

“yes … i am.”

it seems that she liked the flower crown he made for her. good. it made him happy that she did, but little did she know that wasn’t the first time she was given one from him.

she had forgotten, all memories of him gone, and it hurt more than expected. he didn’t blame her per say, but having to act as if she was a stranger, as if she wasn’t the one he loves, the one he longed for after waiting for so long to meet her hurt.

glimpses and flashbacks of were all he had of their doomed past.

surina was the sole reason for his humanity. the girl who named him. sylus, the ruthless, decisive, cruel, and merciless leader of onychinus, named by his beloved. even after his death and even without her remembering anything, he still chooses to go by said name. kindly welcoming the remaining fragments of her instead of nothing at all. the feeling of her being a part of his life is something that he has always longed, sometimes even, begged for.

she had taught him to be human. having such a profound effect on sylus. she was the one who gave him a purpose and a sense of humanity, these no longer welcome fragments still remaining a part of him, accepting whatever parts of her remain. her influence on him so deep that he chose to continue living under the name she had given him. her lasting impact on him was so significant that sometimes he yearned for her to be there, even in just some small capacity.

he had always clutched onto his humanity, in his own words, mistakingly believing he was a normal person. growing up and thinking he was one and trying to bend his identity into something he is not, refusing to come to terms with the fact that he is not human anymore, but a monster instead. he was scared. not only was his appearance changing, but his entire view of himself. who is he? who has he become? the very way he saw himself was now tainted.

her love acted like a balm over his injuries. as if she’s wiping away the blood from injuries caused by his own self. the act is so tender, a stark reminder of the way she viewed him, the way he wished to be viewed. like her equal, her companionship, and her love. he would love to simply exist as the man she loves.

accepting his identity as a monster also meant the fact that he always had a soft spot for animals. dragons have long been depicted as mythical monsters with powers and a fearsome presence. they are creatures of legend that inspire fear and awe in those who hear their name, always associated with destruction and chaos, yet symbolizing creation along with destruction. sylus had always been aware of this perception, sometimes even choosing to bask in it all. after all, he is strong, fearsome, and capable of unleashing destruction. although sometimes, that perception couldn’t be more different than what he is or wanted to be. people often thought of dragons as cursed animals. ones that should be locked away and are incapable of any love and affection, not knowing that said deemed impossible human love would be the cause of this dragon’s demise. a creature that is always perceived incapable of harboring such emotions, and an animal that could never be human, falling utterly in love. a love that made him thought he could live as a human too, and one that couldn’t last long.

a dragon’s curse that consists of killing his beloved. one that the two fated lovers … two star-crossed lovers whose fates and souls are entwined, could not escape, no matter how much they tried. no matter how many tears were shed and no matter their relentless efforts, it would always be futile. doomed by the narrative, the two lovers’ unwavering fight against their fate will never suffice. fate will continuously plunge the two lovers into the abyss as was written. the blood-red greatsword constantly reappearing, longing to be thrust into the dragon’s ruby like chest.

his heart, gleaming and vulnerable always seemed to beckon the blade. as if it was begged to be destroyed, as if his death was the key to some greater truth. she, his lover, was doomed to forever be his arch-nemesis. continuously finding herself the unwilling hand of fate, and the wielder of the cursed sword.

“….. you must press on. because if you don’t … there’s no going back.”

no matter how much she tried, how much she strained her own body to stop it all, it’s as if her body had a mind of its own, refusing to be controlled by her. agonizing screams pierced the abyss yet fell upon deaf ears. and to make matters worse, he was the one further plunging the sword further into his own chest. she knows him well enough to recognize that this is his last act of rebellion against their predestined fate, and a final laugh in the face of the curse, ending it on his own terms.

her hands and body were trembling, every gasp of pain from him resulting in a guttural sob escaping from her, tearing through the void. she could feel his pain and she wishes she can make this stop somehow, but all her attempts were futile, the curse merely mocking her for even trying to defy it. his ruby eyes, always the most gentle with her, were still filled with love and warmth but they now shimmered with a bittersweet resolve — a sight that broke her even more. the eyes that she adores, ones that always shone with an outwardly brilliance, that could put even the shiniest of gem stones to shame, were now getting dimmed as life was seeping from them.

he was bound to this blade, his soul burning with it. their sacred love now destroyed, and the stars weeped for them over and over. stars that have always shone so brightly were now dimmed with sorrow, mourning the tragedy of their love. every flicker of their light seemed to carry the grief of love once shared, an eternal lament to a love that couldn’t defy its cruel destiny.

the sword that was now pulsing, was ready to engulf him whole. he was slipping away between her fingers, the love of her life, dissolving into fragments, every shard carrying a piece of his soul, along with her own. even the stars that were weeping, their light flickering out one by one, the pain and suffering exhibited being enough to fully extinguish their light. it was as if the stars were paying tribute to the grief and agony that transpired.

she embraced him with all the strength she could muster, arms fully wrapped around his body, begging to anchor him to this world, to her. he was her other half, their souls and hearts bound forever. fingers were now desperately clinging onto him, as if to etch her love into his very being, and whispered pleas were being uttered.

“stay. please … please stay. don’t leave me, not like this, not again …” her voice was breaking, carrying the weight of their agony and the weight of a thousand lifetimes of loss.

she didn’t know who she was praying and begging to, but it didn’t matter. she would pray to every god that existed and kneel before every god and beg and beg and beg, if it meant she can have him next to her. she would scream her desperation to the heavens if she had to, move mountains, and commit every sin known to mankind if it meant he would not leave her side. she would beg until her knees buckled and her body gave up on her, knees bleeding from the ground’s cruel embrace, just so they can live the simplest of lives together. she wishes she could rewrite the stars and undo their doomed fates, no longer wanting anything else from the world, except his presence, because a world where he does not exist was one she could not endure.

she pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat of his heart — possibly for the very last time. the heart he gave to her without a second thought as it was hers since the beginning of time. he was merely returning it back to it’s rightful owner. with the last of his strength gathered, he kisses her forehead and whispers a goodbye, his eyes brimming with tears and love for her. her body shook, wracked with sobs that echoed the depth of her anguish as she listened to his heart as it stopped beating. as he slipped away, she was left with her own self, and an incurable tear in her heart. after all, no matter how much she longed for it, her love alone would never be enough to defy the cruel narrative that bound them.

#sylus #qin che #love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x reader #sylus angst #sylus myth #lnds sylus #lnds #l&ds #l&ds sylus #l&ds fic #⋆˚࿔ bea writes .ᐟ₊⊹#i wrote this months ago when his myth came out i don’t even remember what i wrote anymore #this is extremely nerve wrecking omg

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chippedchina-teacup · 4 months ago

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Summary: And everything was going so well.

Word Count: 5,589

Warnings: Day drinking, arranged marriage, complicated family relationships, Walburga Black and her typical bullshit, If I've forgotten something don't hesitate to let me know

Next Chapter

A/N: So, I fucked up just a little bit, and when I posted this part last Friday it was from an older version. I literally edited and posted a version of this chapter from several edits ago, and didn't realize it. This continued on to the second chapter, which I posted today, and then I panicked and made both chapters private posts until I got home from work. Either way, it's fixed now and you can expect chapter three next Friday.

As the eldest daughter of an ancient pureblood family, (Y/N) Grey had an understanding, from a very young age, that she was to be watched constantly. Every move made, every stray comment – if such a thing even existed, every piece of clothing worn, would be observed, and then judged. From that judgment, an opinion would be formed. This opinion, once formed, could not, and would not, be easily changed, and this opinion, this opinion based on nearly nothing, would determine how not only how (Y/N)’s life would go, but the lives of her siblings – her older brother’s, and later her younger sister’s, lives and reputations would, at least in part, be determined by her own actions.

It was this very opinion, in fact, that every young witch’s reputation was based on. As far as anyone within the acceptable families in society were concerned, (Y/N) could have killed a man in cold blood in the middle of Diagon Alley during broad daylight, and she still would have been seen as a respectable young lady from the right sort of family with a good upbringing, so long as she was careful not step outside of her predetermined place in society.

In order to make absolutely certain that the family name ‘Grey’ remained in the good graces of the so-called Sacred 28 (and, as her grandmother had so often reminded her, might one day join the rest of the 28 on the pureblood registry), there were certain things that were expected of her. Certain behaviors and actions were highly encouraged - and others were actively discouraged, if not outright forbidden.

When she was only three years old, (Y/N)’s mother, Anne Grey (née. Bulstrode), had signed her daughter up for ballet lessons. When little (Y/N), with wide innocent eyes and an inquisitive tilt to her head, had asked her mother why, why she had to have ballet lessons while her much-adored older brother was permitted to take fencing lessons, her mother’s answer was simple: “To help you become more graceful.”, this response was paired with a firm guiding hand on the young girl’s back as the mother and daughter entered the large open studio for the first time.

Her mother’s answer was one far too simple for (Y/N) to understand at the time, but it didn’t matter. As always, (Y/N) did as was expected of her. In time, she came to enjoy those lessons. It was one of the few times she wasn’t being watched by the predatory gazes of the 28 - who took every moment to look for any perceived misdeed, and reveled in the destruction of their victim’s reputation.

Her instructor for those lessons had been a squib born to a pureblood family who, when she showed no talent for magic, had sent her to live with a distant cousin in far-off Russia. She had had no talent for magic, true enough, but had excelled in ballet under the careful tutelage of her government-sponsored instructor, and soon found herself travelling the world as part of the renowned Bolshoi Ballet.

Now unable to perform after having broken her ankle some years back, Madame Markova, as she was known to her students, taught ballet to young girls from families like hers. She did not envy them, she did not coddle them. Instead, she welcomed muggle girls into her classes as well, forcing women who, like her mother, placed too much value in blood purity to swallow their pride if they wanted their daughters in her class. And they did.

It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that (Y/N) had decided almost immediately after meeting her new instructor that she liked her very much - it took a special kind of person to leave Druella Black speechless as she had been the first morning when she was given a thorough scolding from the other woman, who had told her, when Druella criticized Narcissa’s form to “...either do better yourself, or keep that ugly mouth of yours shut and let my girls learn,”.

The older woman had a way about her that prompted terror at the very thought of letting her down, and every girl in her class did her best to prevent such a devastating thing from ever happening. In turn, Madame Markova taught her girls to be the best – as she had been – and would allow no outside interference in her methods. After all, it was of the utmost importance to women like Walburga Black and her cousin Druella that the children of the 28 were given the very best, taught by the very best, and, in some situations, even they had to make an exception to their own self-imposed code of bigotry. Specifically, if the best of the best made it quite clear what would happen otherwise.

Other things that (Y/N) needed to learn, however, were able to be taught by witches and wizards either unwilling or unable to stand up to the 28. (Y/N)’s etiquette lessons, her horseback riding lessons, and just about anything else that it was decided in some arbitrary fashion that good daughters of wealthy pureblood families with the right sort of upbringing should learn in order to be considered respectable young ladies with a good upbringing, were taught by wizarding tutors approved of and used by members of the 28.

The result was that anything and everything said in those lessons would, eventually, get back to the rest of the 28. Even so, (Y/N) could usually count on her tutors, to some extent, being willing to indulge her whims, so long as she had a proper chaperone, in fear of upsetting any member of the 28 – even, maybe especially, the children whose mothers would conveniently arrange for their disappearance.

(Y/N), eventually accompanied by her younger sister Claire, would often be permitted to roam the winding trails of the forest on their family’s property. Their half-terrified instructor trailing behind them afraid of what might happen to him if one of the girls was to be injured, even on accident.

(Y/N) and her older brother, Kieran, before Hogwarts, had been allowed to act out various scenes from the older boy’s history of magic textbooks. Their play fighting with wooden swords and play wands, enchanted to give the illusion of giving off harmless ribbons of light, clashing as the duo rounded the corners of the many hallways of their parents’ large manor home, often startling unsuspecting servants or men visiting their father on business. When, inevitably, one of them tripped, usually Kieran after tripping over his own feet or getting his wooden sword caught in (Y/N)’s skirt, their mother would rush to their aid from either the library or the drawing room to make sure her oldest two were alright. Occasionally little Claire would toddle out after her and would start giggling and pointing her fingers in delight at the mess that was made, and everyone would dissolve into fits of laughter.

As Claire got older and was able to keep up with her older siblings’ adventures, the three would often sneak off to the kitchens – to help the house elves or the kitchen maids with decorating little cakes and pastries, or to steal a biscuit or two and make sure they were good enough to be served. Mrs. Turner would always scold them for it, claiming they would spoil their appetites, all the while fighting a smile from overtaking her face as the siblings would grasp their spoils, wrapped neatly in a clean handkerchief, and scamper off to enjoy the treats in the garden.

It wasn’t any of this that really caused a problem for (Y/N). Her life, especially her early childhood, was comfortable and filled with wonderful memories.

Her father, Joseph, made a good living working for the ministry and was able to spoil his children with the money he had inherited as the heir to the Grey family when his father had passed. Both the London townhouse and the country estate were fully staffed with freed house elves and human servants alike, ready and willing to cater to the family’s every whim.

Anne spent her time volunteering at various charitable organizations, hosting dinner parties, and having beautiful dresses for any and every occasion made. If she wasn’t addressing invitations in the library or having a dress of the latest fashion fitted in her dressing room, she would usually be found in the drawing room embroidering, or reading, or entertaining her younger daughter with stories of adventure and romance or beautiful red sparkles the same way she had (Y/N) and Kieran when they had been little.

Kieran, while a few years older than (Y/N), had been incredibly close to his sister. It was the two of them against the world, especially when one of them needed an excuse to avoid one of the many social events the 28 held, and that they were expected to attend.

(Y/N)’s darling baby sister Claire, nearly eleven years younger, was the wild child of the three. Brave and adventurous, she lived to cause trouble, always wreaking havoc on the hosts of the dinner parties and galas (Y/N) and her family would attend. Never anything too awful, mostly it was harmless fun, but the one time, when Claire had decided to let a few pixies loose in the Black family’s ballroom during their annual Black and White gala, it was a complete and utter disaster. It was lucky for Claire, and the rest of her family too, that Orion, strange man that he is, found the entire situation rather funny. Had he not, it would have been a rather disturbing evening for little Claire, one where there would have been little anyone could have done to protect her.

No. None of this was the problem. What caused issues for (Y/N) was how very careful she had to be when making even the smallest of decisions. Her family was loving and kind, gracious and generous. They didn’t agree with much when it came to the ideologies of the 28. It was only a sense of self-preservation and a deep understanding that they alone would be unable to make any changes by crossing swords with those in power that prevented them from breaking with all but the most archaic of traditions. These were, perhaps, traits more common in those who had been sorted Slytherin in school, and with few exceptions, the Grey family had been almost exclusively comprised of Slytherins for nearly three hundred years – a fact they were all well aware they were ridiculously proud of, and which had become something of a family joke over the years.

While (Y/N)’s parents abhorred many of their peers’ actions, while they may have raised their children far differently than them, there was only so much that could be done to protect them from the realities of life within the 28. Eventually, (Y/N) knew, certain things that were expected of respectable young ladies from the right sorts of families with good upbringings, would be expected of her. Certain things that no one would be able to stop from happening, no matter how much they may or may not have wanted to.

When (Y/N) had just turned fourteen, Claire was three, her mother sat them both down on her favorite sofa in her favorite drawing room, and told her that, one day, not too far in the future, she would be expected to marry an upstanding young gentleman from the right sort of family with a good strong upbringing. That she would be expected to do her part to help raise the next generation of the 28. Anne explained all of this with a misty, faraway look in her eyes. As if she were remembering a time so long ago when her own mother had told her the same thing. And it had been nearly twenty years since that day, and nearly the same amount of time since she had married (Y/N)’s father. A man she had come to love with everything in her when, on their wedding night, he had not forced himself on her as she had expected he would, and whom she had loved more and more each year since.

It was the closest (Y/N) had ever come to rebelling. She had stood straight up from the sofa, hair bouncing off her back as she did so. She had wanted to scream, to shout. To tell the world that it wasn’t fair that she should have her whole future decided for her, despite how well it had turned out for her parents, simply because of the family she was born into. Instead, she had stood there for a second, taken a deep breath, and composed herself. (Y/N) had politely excused herself, ignoring Claire’s curious questions as to where she was going, and gone up the stairs to her bedroom as if in a trance. She could feel herself pulling out the chair to her desk, smoothing the back of her dark-grey wool skirt, sitting down in the chair and reaching for her favorite quill and ink and a sheet of the creamy stationery emblazoned with her initials. She saw her hands move across the page with the practiced grace of a young lady from the right sort of family with a good upbringing as she poured her heart out to her dearest friend, Regulus Arcturus Black, via the letter.

It was only as she stood in the owlery, nearly an hour later, with dried tears still staining her cheeks, as she gently stroked the feathers of her favorite owl that she felt the rest of that trance-like state slip away. Stealing herself, (Y/N) attached the letter, sealed with dark green wax and her personal seal, to her owl’s leg, whispered the desired destination to the owl with a cracked voice, and sent her off.

The next morning at Breakfast (Y/N) received Regulus’s response. He had done his best to try and comfort her, but he knew, much like anyone else with a similar upbringing, that there would be nothing he could do to help. Besides, he had pointed out in his typically wryly practical way, the earliest she could be married off to anyone was eighteen, four years off yet, and even then, there was no guarantee that her parents would arrange a marriage for her so soon after graduation.

In the end, it didn’t matter, when (Y/N) showed her mother the letter Anne had agreed that Regulus was correct. It would be the most likely course of action for her and her husband to wait for some time before arranging for any sort of suitors to meet their eldest daughter. (Y/N)’s parents, as unusual as it may have been for anyone associated with the 28, did not wish to see their children miserable – even at their own expense. And (Y/N), as they had often reminded her, had always had a good head on her shoulders – this was said by the older woman with a fondly exasperated look at Claire who was busy sneaking pastries off the table and onto her lap for her energetic cruppy sitting at her feet. The toddler froze when she felt her mother’s gaze on her, and gave her best attempt at the smile she’d seen her older sister give to her tutors when she wanted something.

No, (Y/N) would have nothing to worry about. And with that, the subject was dropped.

–

When (Y/N)’s eighteenth birthday finally came around, she was able to celebrate her graduation and having received the highest marks in Slytherin for her class, with only a few close friends and a couple of drinks at a bar in London. No fiancé in sight.

Regulus gave her a bracelet, an intricately designed silver one resembling a snake. If the head of the snake was pulled away from where it rested against its body, a small silver dagger was revealed – he’d told her how he found it at an antique shop in a heavily magical arrondissement of Paris run by an old man who’d brought it back from his travels through Spain many years before.

“I love it, Reg,” she had said, words muffled by his dress shirt as she pulled him into a tight hug, his own arms wrapped around her tightly, his nose buried in her hair. Severus, who had broken away from his studies as an apprentice potioneer for the evening, had shot him a look, not so successfully hiding his accompanying smirk behind his glass.

(Y/N), finally pulling away and missing Regulus’s familiar warmth the second she had, gave him a watch - silver with a black leather band, much like the one he had worn in school. The back was engraved with the date of his graduation, and the first few lines of his favorite poem. It was, perhaps, two years too late for it to be considered a proper graduation gift, but he hadn’t been able to attend his own graduation ceremony - having been off on some hair-brained scheme that had left him with unending nightmares, chronic pains that wracked his body and a nasty limp no healer had been able to do anything about, save for suggesting he use a cane. It was probably then, several days before he would turn twenty, and nearly a year since he had lost almost everything, that Regulus first started to realize how he truly felt for the young woman who had been his best, and sometimes only, friend for much of his childhood.

The following year, at nineteen, (Y/N) found herself being offered a job at the Daily Prophet. Just a short twice-weekly anonymous gossip column.

“We’ll sell papers by the dozen!” the frenzied editor had exclaimed, hastily shoving a quill behind her ear and grasping (Y/N)’s hands, pulling her out of the chair she had been sat in and dancing the pair about the room, (Y/N) laughing with glee as the other woman spun them about the cramped office in delighted half-mad circles, “Just think!” she had continued, spinning (Y/N) back into her seat and sending the wheeled chair skidding to a sudden stop next to a pile of haphazardly stacked papers and books, “You’ll have access to so much more with your connections!” And it was true. While the column entailed the fairly simple business of chronicling some of the juicier bits of information she, as a member of the 28, was privy to, it was enough to spark an interest in pursuing a further career at the paper, and the former Slytherin did so with all the ambition and fervor that could be expected of any of her peers.

Shortly after turning twenty, with still no sign of any impending engagement, she was offered a more permanent position as an investigative journalist for The Prophet. With the new job came an increase in pay, and (Y/N) found herself moving out of her parent’s home and into a small flat not too far from the office.

“Are you sure, darling?” her mother had asked when (Y/N) had suggested doing so over breakfast one morning.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, pouring milk into her tea and stirring in the sugar. She offered a smile to Millie - a new housemaid hired only a few weeks before - as she placed a fresh batch of toast on the table, “It should save a small fortune in floo powder, being able to walk to work in the morning, and I’d like the opportunity to better learn my way around the city.” her mother relented, agreeing that it was probably a good idea for (Y/N) to do so, reminding her that her room would always be available to her should she choose to stay over. It wasn’t long after moving into her own apartment - only a few blocks from the office, and with excellent views of London, according to her realtor - that (Y/N)’s morning walk to work included a stop at a small local café for a coffee and a pastry on the way.

Three days before she turned twenty-one, Kieran announced his engagement to a pretty witch who had been in her dorm during her seventh year. She was a half-blood, raised by her pureblood father after her mother’s untimely death when she was a child. After the announcement was made in that morning’s edition of the Prophet, all five members of the Grey family and Kieran’s fiancée, Serena, sat gathered together in the sitting room of the Grey family’s townhome. They waited with baited breath for some sort of retaliation - be it letters or uninvited visitors hoping to announce their displeasure to the gathered family. Serena’s family, however, was wealthy, and her father was from a well-respected family with enough sway within the ministry for it to be a very bad idea to speak out against the match if you valued your career and social standing.

The match was accepted, and only a few short months later, they were married.

(Y/N) turned twenty-three without incident. Maybe some slight sadness at the sight of all of her friends getting married and starting families of their own, except it was rarely because it was what they wanted. It was all done in the name of ensuring the future of the 28, (Y/N) couldn’t help but thank Morgana that she wasn’t among the year’s collection of blushing brides destined to be absolutely miserable in the next few years – if they weren’t already.

“Just be glad your parents haven’t set you up with someone like Rodolphus,” Narcissa had said to her over a late lunch one day, barely suppressing a shudder as she thought of her brother-in-law, “Bella was never the most stable, but with him.” she trailed off, a haunted guilt look in her blue eyes - she still felt guilty, having found some measure of happiness with Lucius.

“I suppose you’re right,” (Y/N) set down her tea cup, gently placing a hand over Narcissa’s, “as you always are in these situations.” she older of the two gave a tight lipped smile, still upset about her sister’s match.

It was something that had become increasingly apparent with each wedding attended and each birth announcement received that the best any daughter of The 28 could hope for was to not end up in the same situation as Balatrix Lestrange (née. Black). These women, these bright young witches who could have made so much of themselves if only given the chance, were worth little more than the children they would give birth to and the pleasure their husbands could take from them. Damn their own hopes and dreams.

By twenty-four (Y/N) had received a promotion at work and had decided to focus more fully on her career. One of her informants, a mousy man with the unfortunate habit of dousing himself in cheap cologne in an attempt to hide the stench of his rotting teeth, had gone missing the week before, his dirty rented room above a sleazy pub in knockturn alley the only evidence he had ever existed at all. Rumors of something dark brewing in the shadows had gained new credibility with the poor man’s disappearance. Whispers of a return to the dark arts and a truly pureblood wizarding society had begun to spread among the more extreme members of the 28. Some questioned her family’s standing as proud pureblooded Slytherins after her brave Gryffindor sister had made a few unwise comments at a few too many events.

“Well,” She and Kieran would say, “I don’t know what you expect, she’s only a child,” a carefully timed sip of their whiskey or champagne or tea or coffee and then “and besides, I’ve never met any Gryiffindor who doesn't speak before fully considering what it is they’re saying.”

If that wasn’t enough, the allusion to how foolish a child’s opinions could be, and how little control she could be expected to have after an evening of sneaking sips of champagne off of trays held by waiters expected to say nothing, or from glasses of fire whiskey left unattended after games of cards was often enough, and usually met by an appreciative chuckle and some vain recollection by whomever’s conversation they’d had to intervene in. A well place complement to their hosts, and the subject was dropped in favor of the typical gossip that was passed around.

The year (Y/N) turned twenty-five, Serena hosted a small get-together. There was a nice dinner, cake from her favorite bakery, and her closest friends and family all wishing her a happy birthday. Her parents had given her a delicate gold watch that had belonged to her grandmother – her favorite grandmother, the one who would wordlessly help her escape from balls and galas with a sly wink and an amused smirk. Kieran had given her a new typewriter, its shining green enamel and the gold inlay of the letters twinkling under the warm light of the candles at the dinner table. He had smirked as she unwrapped it,

“Since you do so much writing outside of work,” he paused theatrically, “I thought you might like something to make it just the littlest bit easier on your quills and ink.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her brother, “That’s lovely, Kier,” now it was her turn for theatrics, “Care to tell me how it works, or…” she trailed off, gesturing to the instruction booklet that had come with the typewriter - the instruction booklet written entirely in Czech.

“Haven’t a clue, sister,” Kieran’s smirk screamed mischief, “You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself.

Severus had sent a card home with Claire on the train, busy with his own family and with his students, he had been unable to attend in person, but he would have rather died than face his pregnant wife if he hadn’t at least sent well wishes for a happy twenty-fifth birthday to one of his closest friends.

Claire had given her an oval-shaped locket she had found at a muggle antique shop the two sisters frequented together. Inside she had placed a small photo of the two of them from Kieran and Serena’s wedding. Both girls were smiling brightly as Claire moved to whisper something to (Y/N) before they dissolved into fits of giggles. The champagne (Y/N) had been drinking all evening, and that Claire had, more likely than not, been sneaking, almost certainly having to do with how easily the sisters laughed that night.

Serena’s gift that evening was somewhat less traditional. In a small plain paper gift bag filled to the top with crumpled tissue paper in different shades of green, was a corny t-shirt you might be able to find in a variety of muggle clothing shops. On the front of the cream-colored shirt, in big black letters, were the words ‘World’s Best Godmother’. Underneath the shirt lay a strip of photos from an ultrasound appointment, and a card with a message inscribed in Serena’s usual elegant script in black: ‘Won’t you be my Godmother, Aunty?’ it read. Standing, (Y/N) quickly swept her sister-in-law into a tight hug, laughing softly as her brother wrapped his arms around them both, and nodded her head with a bright smile on her face, tears welling in her eyes.

“Of course,” (Y/N) laughed delightedly, “I would be honored.”

Regulus’s gift, however, had been her favorite. It was a first edition of one of (Y/N)’s favorite muggle novels, a novel she had first read sitting on the train next to an older boy with dark brown curls and a carefully neutral expression painted across his handsome face. It was on that first trip to Hogwarts that (Y/N) had decided she had found her best friend, and Regulus had decided that he would allow no one to so much as look at the younger girl the wrong way.

Regulus’s gift of the book was met with a shy smile from (Y/N), who knew exactly how Walburga could be about such things, and when she kissed him on the cheek Regulus had to fight off the pink tinge flushing his cheeks – his heart skipping a beat.

“Thank you, Reg.” she had whispered to him later that evening, her head resting against his shoulder as they sat curled together on a loveseat in front of the fireplace. Outside the rain poured and the wind thrashed the branches of the old oak tree they had climbed together exactly once when (Y/N) was thirteen and Regulus was fifteen.

“Any time, Dove.” Regulus glanced down only to find (Y/N) asleep, her head still resting against his shoulder. Gently he pressed a kiss to her forehead, picked her up, and brought her to her room. His leg would be killing him in the morning, but for one more moment with her, it would be worth it.

At twenty-six, one of (Y/N)’s colleagues, a young man she had known in school, asked her out for dinner. She might have agreed if it weren’t for the warnings of the older girls at work. Ones with whom he had a bit of a reputation with, as the sort of man who expected too much from a first date and didn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.

The prideful fool should have known better, given the look of total contempt and disgust on (Y/N)’s face, but he continued to push, to beg, and whine until she had her father call in a favor with her editor.

“Please, Father,” she had begged during dinner one night when he had joined her at the Leaky Cauldron. Her mother had been at some charitable event or other, and the father and daughter had elected to get dinner together in the city rather than having Mrs. Turner stay late. “He won’t leave me alone,” she tried again, “and I’m sure Rowle has plenty of assignments he could do far away from me.” Her father Joseph chuckled, then agreed, taking a bite of his roast dinner and chuckling again at his daughter’s obvious relief.

He and Montgomery Rowle had been friends during their days at Hogwarts, and it took little convincing from him to have Mr. Rowle send him off on an assignment to somewhere he was unlikely to return from. It was a bit extreme, perhaps, though it had ensured he never bothered anyone again, and it made for a much quieter office - and that, at least, was something everyone could appreciate.

It was at twenty-seven that (Y/N)’s life was set in a very different direction all together from what would have been expected given the last few years, and in no way had such an upbringing as the one so carefully curated by her parents, nor the following few years of unwed bliss, prepared (Y/N) for her mother's announcement. To be quite frank, it's unlikely anything would have been able to prepare her for such an announcement.

In fact, had she known such a thing would be the main point of discussion at the monthly luncheon with her mother, sister and sister-in-law, she likely would have come up with some doubtlessly brilliant reason for being quite unable to make it this time, and for them to please accept her apologies. Likely it would have been something to do with the paper, or perhaps her faucet had spontaneously developed a leak and the plumber was only available, unfortunately enough, at the very time of the four women’s tête-à-tête.

Instead, (Y/N) had taken the day away from the paper as she always did. She'd had an appointment earlier, and had stopped into one of her favorite boutiques after. She'd found a dress - a lovely wool one in cream, the skirt delicately pleated and fell gracefully to her ankles, while the bodice was tightly fitted perfectly accentuating her curves - and had gone home after, changing into that very dress before heading out to meet for lunch, her heels clacking purposefully against the pavement.

She'd handed her camel coat, wand tucked neatly into an interior pocket, to the kind older man at the coat check, offering him a gracious smile

"How has your Lou been?" she politely inquired, "not still sick, I hope?"

"Oh," the man chuckled softly, carefully placing the coat in the closet behind him, "no, healer said she'll be right as rain in a day or two." he responded. (Y/N) opened her mouth to ask if she could do anything before being met by her sister, who literally slid into the room, arms flailing as she skidded to a sudden stop.

Energetic thing that she was, Claire had barreled into the foyer, nearly crashing into her sister, pulling her into a crushing hug, cheeks still flushed from the cold, hair damp from the misty rain that had only just begun moments before.

"(Y/N)!" she exclaimed, laughing as she was shot several dirty looks from a group of older witches sitting nearby.

The sisters had made their way into the dining room then, chatting amiably as they sat at their usual table. Anne had been waiting already, a glass of wine in one hand.

That should have been her first clue. Instead, lunch had continued as it normally did, and then Anne made her announcement.

Taglist: @bleepeats-15

#sirius x reader #regulus black x reader #sirius black x reader #regulus x reader #the brothers black #harry potter #arranged marriage #arranged marriage au #series masterlist #x reader #regulus black x reader smut #kind of slowburn #childhood friends to lovers #unrequited feelings #slytherin reader #pureblood reader

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queenshelby · 2 years ago

Text

Auctioned (P. 3)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Virgin!Reader/OC

Warning: Darkish Themes, Prostitution, Smut, Eventual Loss of Virginity, Dubious Consent, Corruption, Destructive Behavior, Massive Age Gap

Notes: Damn, I had this in my drafts for a while but could not publish it as I was a little afraid about how it would be perceived. Also this is the first time I used an OC, so be gentle with me.

You settled into your new life at Arrow House, a grand estate where elegance and opulence intertwined with darkness and danger. As a shy and inexperienced woman, you had much to learn about the ways of pleasing Thomas Shelby, the dominant gangster who ruled over this unforgiving world.

The days passed slowly as you acclimated to your surroundings. You found solace in the stables, where the horses seemed unbothered by the treacheries that lurked beyond the estate's walls. Their gentle presence offered a temporary respite from the weight of your newfound responsibilities.

Inside the library, you delved into books, seeking knowledge and distraction. It became your sanctuary, a place of refuge where the stories transported you to distant lands, far from the clutches of Thomas Shelby's demanding presence.

The library was adorned with antique furniture, its rich scent of leather bindings and aged parchment elevating the ambience.

You felt safe there, hidden amidst the countless tomes that were silent witnesses to the sins committed within these walls. But even here, you couldn't escape the shadow of Thomas Shelby. His presence loomed over everything, a constant reminder of your precarious position.

Alison often visited you in the library, offering her wisdom about navigating your role as Thomas' "possession". Her guidance was invaluable, yet it never seemed enough to fully ease your fears.

The more time you spent with Thomas, the clearer it became that he was a man of many contradictions – tender one moment, cruel the next.

***

One evening, after a lavish dinner party, you were summoned to his office. Nervously, you followed Alison down the corridor, trying to hide your trembling hands behind your back. She glanced back at you with a reassuring smile, reminding you to breathe and find your centre.

Thomas waited patiently inside his office, seated upon his large, comfortable leather chair. He leaned back, studying you with an unreadable gaze. The room was dimly lit, adding to the air of mystery surrounding him.

"Y/N," he began, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through your core. "Tonight, I require your services as Alison has not been feeling too well." His eyes flickered to Alison, who stood quietly beside you, nodding, and you took a deep breath, feeling your nerves calm slightly as you tried to focus on the task ahead.

Thomas continued, "You have proven yourself capable before, so I know you can handle this." Your confidence wavered slightly as you considered the pressure he placed upon you. But you knew it was necessary to prove yourself to him once again.

As such, and without words, you approached him, kneeling on the floor in front of his imposing presence. He allowed you to take control, giving you an opportunity to showcase your talents while still hurrying you along since he had business to attend to.

"You have fifteen minutes, Love. I suggest you get to it, eh?" Tommy pointed out while he opened his belt and then his zipper.

Your heart raced faster than usual; your hands trembled as you reached out to touch him. Time seemed to slow down, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breaths and the rustling of his clothes as his erection was revealed to you once again.

His powerful thighs his commanding presence, all enveloped you, making you feel like you were floating outside of your body, a mere observer of the events unfolding.

With shaking hands, you reached forward, letting your fingers brush against his skin, feeling the heat radiating from him. You could sense his impatience growing as you wrapped your hand around his hard, throbbing length.

He wanted satisfaction quickly and efficiently. You focused intently on your task, desperate to prove yourself worthy to him.

"Come on, Love, use your mouth," his eyes remained cold and distant, making you question if your efforts were truly appreciated.

"Yes, Mr Shelby," you confirmed before taking his length into your mouth with a mixture of nervous excitement and determination. Your tongue swirled around the head, tracing patterns designed to bring him pleasure. You listened carefully to the sound of his breathing, monitoring the rhythm to match your movements.

"That's it, Love. Keep going," he eventually groaned as hips shifted restlessly, and you maintained your focus, determined to prove yourself worthy of his attention.

With each passing minute, your resolve grew stronger, driven by the desire to win his approval.

Your mouth moved fluidly up and down his length, creating an erotic dance that matched the tempo of his breathing. His moans and gasps intensified, feeding your confidence as you perfected your technique.

Time seemed to warp around you, as if every second was a lifetime spent entirely under his gaze. Your lips wrapped tightly around him, sucking firmly, creating waves of pleasure coursing through his body. With each movement, you felt your power grow, and your connection to him deepened.

"Good girl, keep your tongue firm against my cock", he groaned, his grip on the armrest tightening, his eyes burning with intensity.

Your hands worked together, caressing his thighs, teasing his balls gently. You could feel his arousal building, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Yes, just like that…" he muttered, his voice thick with desire.

Every word, every touch, served to fuel your determination.

As the minutes ticked away, the intensity of your focus heightened.

You could hear the echo of your laboured breaths, the creak of the leather chair, and the subtle click of the clock. Each sensation brought you closer to achieving the level of mastery you sought.

The warmth emanating from Thomas radiated onto your face, filling your nose with the distinct scent of masculinity. His fingers clenched and unclenched, mirroring the turbulent storm of his thoughts and emotions.

Alison watched from a distance, silently observing both of you, her expression a mix of admiration and concern.

"Almost there, Love. Fuck," he cursed, his hand reaching back to play with your hair. "Don't stop now," he commanded, a possessive tone in his voice. His gaze held yours, daring you to defy him, but you knew better than to test his patience.

You kept working diligently, maintaining eye contact with him, allowing him to see the depth of your commitment. Your lips continued to slide up and down his length, creating a rhythmic pattern designed to please him.

"I expect you to swallow every drop, Love," he went on to say before; with a loud roar, he came, shooting hot liquid into your mouth.

Your reflexes kicked in instinctively, taking his seed into your mouth, savouring the taste as he let out a long, satisfying sigh. His breathing gradually slowed down, and he released you from his grasp.

You gently touched his thigh, looking up at him with a mixture of humility and pride, unsure of how he would react. He looked down at you, a slight grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Not bad, Love. Not bad at all." His praise sent a surge of relief through you, washing away any lingering doubts about your abilities.

"Thank you, sir," you confirmed before licking the remnants of seed from your lips.

You felt a strange mix of apprehension and accomplishment, proud of your ability to provide him with pleasure yet concerned about what the future might hold.

***

Over the next two days, you spent more time at the stables, and even Thomas joined you on one occasion, taking an interest in your passion for horses.

As he watched you tend to the animals, you found yourself sharing anecdotes about your life before Thomas Shelby. His attention focused solely on you as you shared stories about your family and childhood dreams. Despite the awkwardness of sharing such personal experiences, it strengthened your bond with him.

He listened intently, asking questions about your past, genuinely interested in understanding who you were beyond the physical aspects of your relationship. It was during those moments that you realised Thomas possessed a complexity rarely seen in others.

As you tended to the horses, he observed you with a keen eye, almost as if he was searching for something deeper. He inquired about your love for horses and how it had begun. Your heart fluttered at the genuine curiosity in his eyes, and you shared your tale with fervour. You spoke of your first horse, a gentle mare named Whisper, who taught you the art of connection and trust. It was evident in his expressions that your words resonated with him, striking a chord that few other subjects ever did.

As you shared your stories, Thomas became increasingly invested in learning more about you. He asked probing questions, seeking to understand the motivations behind your actions and choices.

You couldn't help but be amazed by his genuine curiosity and openness. In the midst of it all, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you never imagined possible. The warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at you was intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more.

Yet, you remained cautious not to let your feelings for him run wild. You cherished these rare moments of solitude where he appeared vulnerable and engaged.

As the days passed, you continued to learn more about him, too. He revealed parts of himself that surprised you, and you discovered a gentler side hidden beneath his hard exterior. However, you couldn't help but notice the darkness that occasionally clouded his eyes, hinting at a past filled with pain and betrayal.

It left you wondering how someone so wounded could find joy in a world that seemingly brought him nothing but suffering. As you delved deeper into his history, you uncovered the reason behind his controlling nature. It was a need to protect himself, and he seemingly enjoyed the thrill of being the one in charge.

Taking charge was exactly what he did that same night again when you were called into his chambers, and it was Alison who gave you a pep talk before your impending encounter.

"Tomorrow night, Mr Shelby wants to claim what he acquired during the auction," Alison told you softly.

"You will be spending time with him alone. This is what he wants," she added, her voice steady and confident.

You nodded in understanding, knowing full well that giving in to his desires would keep you safe and secure within his domain.

She placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, telling you not to worry about it too much.

"You will do well; I have no doubt about it. Despite this, Mr. Shelby seems to have a soft spot for your innocent nature. I think it intrigues and arouses him all at the same time," Alison explained, watching you carefully.

"But don't fret; it's just another aspect of his personality. He enjoys pushing boundaries and testing limits." She smiled reassuringly, offering advice to calm your nerves.

"Which brings us to tonight, where he wants to see us both to ensure that, come tomorrow, you are ready to lose your virginity to him," Alison exclaimed, and thus, as the night fell, Alison led you through the labyrinthine hallways of Arrow House, guiding you towards Thomas Shelby's private quarters. The anticipation and nerves danced in your chest, each step amplifying the thump of your heartbeat.

Finally, you stood before the imposing door, your palms slightly damp as Alison knocked, her knuckles rapping against the solid wood. The sound reverberated through the silence, announcing your arrival. You had not been in his bedroom before and were surprised that tonight, this was where he wanted you both to come.

The door creaked open, revealing Thomas Shelby, his eyes sharp and piercing as they scanned both you and Alison. His lips curled into a predatory smile, and you felt a shiver trickle down your spine.

"Come in, close the door," Thomas said, his voice carrying the weight of authority.

Alison stepped aside, allowing you to enter first. You walked slowly across the threshold, careful not to make eye contact with Thomas, your heart racing in your chest. You followed the path Alison had shown you earlier that evening, walking towards the centre of the room. As you approached, Thomas' presence became more pronounced, enveloping you in his powerful aura.

"Y/N, stand here," he ordered, pointing to a spot near the edge of the large, ornate bed. As you moved closer, the fine detailing of the furniture around you caught your attention.

The opulence of the room seemed to overwhelm you, a stark contrast to the simple life you had once known. Standing beside Alison, you took it all in – the rich fabric of the curtains, the intricate patterns carved into the bedposts, and the sense of power that hung thick in the air. Thomas' eyes bore into you, his intensity causing your pulse to race faster.

Alison broke the silence, addressing Thomas with a calm demeanour. "Mr. Shelby, Y/N has proven herself capable of pleasing you, so what do you expect of her tonight?" she asked.

His lips tightened, the lines around his eyes deepening.

"Well, first, I want to see how receptacle she is to my touch, and then, we shall see, eh?” Tommy said, and your heart raced as you absorbed his words, trying to hide your nervousness.

Alison seemed unfazed by his crude language, her face remaining composed.

"Of course, Mr. Shelby," she replied coolly, maintaining her composure despite the demanding situation.

Tommy's eyes locked onto yours, assessing your reaction. He leaned back against the bedpost, his gaze turning predatory. "Let's begin then."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat of embarrassment rise within you.

"Undress, Sweetheart," Tommy then ordered, his tone commanding and authoritative. With trembling hands, you began to shed your clothes, revealing your body to him for the first time as you stood there, vulnerable and exposed.

Tommy walked towards you, his eyes trailing across your now-exposed body. You held your breath, trying to mask your discomfort. "Beautiful," he whispered, running his fingers lightly along your skin.

You felt your cheeks flush as you met his gaze, a mixture of surprise and attraction burning in your eyes.

Without warning, he grasped your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your breath hitched as you found yourself pressed against his hard chest, the heat of his body seeping into yours. You closed your eyes, trying to remain composed amidst the intense sensations coursing through your body.

"Don't be afraid, Love," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

"This isn't something to be ashamed of." Your eyes met his, finding solace in the sincerity of his words. You allowed yourself to relax slightly, the tension easing from your shoulders. As your confidence grew, so did the desire coursing through your veins.

He led you over to the bed, sitting you down on its edge. He positioned himself behind you, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "You must trust me, eh," he whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

"I won't hurt you." His tender touch made you believe him, even though a part of you wondered if he was lying. Still, you found yourself wanting to surrender completely to him despite the lingering uncertainty.

Slowly, he ran his hands up and down your arms, gently tracing the curves of your body. His touch was gentle yet firm, stirring both excitement and trepidation within you. The warmth of his touch caused your heart to beat faster, filling you with a longing for more.

His touch was masterful, expertly skimming over your skin with just enough pressure to leave you wanting. As his hands continued their journey down your body, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused. You were caught between the desire to satiate your yearnings and the fear of revealing too much of yourself.

Your mind drifted to the various lessons Alison had taught you, trying to find strength in those memories. You remembered the way she spoke of Thomas, describing him as possessive yet kind.

"Now, listen carefully," he began, his voice resonating with control.

"I want you to lie down, legs spread open so that I can get a good look at what I acquired," Thomas told you before gesturing for Alison to join you on the large bed.

Alison, ever composed, obeyed his order without hesitation. You watched her, taking note of her composure.

"Come here, pet, rest your head on my lap and present yourself to who owns you now," she said, her language surprisingly crude and dominant, just like Thomas enjoyed it.

You felt your heart quicken, unsure if you could fully comprehend her words. But as Thomas' strong fingers wrapped around your nape, you realised that you needed to submit to his will, as Alison had advised you previously.

So, you obliged, placing your head upon his strong lap and looking up into his penetrating eyes. They were cold, like steel, but there was also a hint of tenderness beneath it.

"Spread your legs wide for me, Love," he commanded, his voice harsh yet commanding.

Obeying instinctively, you extended your legs, feeling the vulnerability of your exposed position. As you lay there, exposed and submissive, you couldn't help but feel the intense mixture of fear and arousal coursing through your veins.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice echoing throughout the room. Unwilling to disobey, you raised your gaze to meet his steely eyes.

"Do you understand that you belong to me? That your body belongs to me?" He asked, his tone demanding an answer.

Nodding your head, you acknowledged his claim, feeling the weight of his ownership settling upon your shoulders. You swallowed hard, the lump forming in your throat growing larger with each passing second. As you lay there, feeling the heat radiating from his body, you tried to come to terms with the fact that you belonged to him.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now let me have a look and see whether you are really still a virgin, eh?" Tommy smirked playfully, his eyes filled with curiosity and determination. Despite your anxiety, you felt a rush of excitement surge through your veins. This was a new experience, one that would change your life forever.

As you lay there, exposed and vulnerable, the room was filled with an electric tension. The atmosphere was charged with desire and apprehension. Your eyes darted to Alison, who remained poised and calm, seemingly unaffected by the intensity of the situation. She smiled at you encouragingly, conveying confidence and reassurance.

Your heart skipped a beat as Thomas approached, his powerful presence casting a shadow over you.

"Are you ready?" he whispered, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through your core.

Nodding your head, you managed a small smile, hoping it conveyed your readiness. Your stomach flipped in anticipation, and your heart raced in your chest.

"That's my good girl," he responded his approval warming your soul. He leaned in, his rough fingers tenderly tracing your cheekbone.

"Trust me, Love, I will be gentle. I won't claim you just yet, not until tomorrow night," he whispered softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. Your heart leapt, caught between excitement and apprehension. You wanted to give yourself wholly to him, even though doubt still lingered in the back of your mind. However, Alison's assurance that Thomas wasn't entirely cruel lent you some comfort.

With a delicate touch, he began exploring your body. His hands brushed over your sensitive skin, eliciting waves of pleasure you'd never imagined possible before, finally descending to your core to assess the condition of what he purchased.

You felt a mixture of nervousness and anticipation as his fingers traced over your slit before he opened you up slightly. He then used two fingers to spread your pussy lips open slightly, determining the truth of your virginity.

You felt a twinge of pain and discomfort, which only heightened your awareness of your vulnerability. Yet, simultaneously, you found yourself becoming increasingly aroused by the intense sensations.

As he examined you, you felt a strange blend of fear and arousal, a complex mix of emotions that you had never experienced before. The knowledge that you belonged to Thomas, that he could do anything he pleased with you, sent a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

"You are already wet, my love. Are you enjoying this?" Tommy asked his voice husky with desire. You nodded, unable to find your voice due to the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body. His fingers were skilled, teasing you expertly, drawing out your pleasure and tormenting you simultaneously. It was a sensation, unlike anything you had ever experienced before, leaving you craving more of his touch.

Thomas's gaze locked onto yours, his expression one of satisfaction and control. "You're so responsive, sweetheart," he purred, leaning in to press his lips against your forehead.

"Let's see how you taste, eh?" Tommy said, wanting to run his tongue through your slit.

You couldn't hide the mixture of fear and excitement that gripped you at his proposal. But as his face drew closer to your core, you felt a surge of trust welling up inside you. Perhaps it was because Alison had been so kind and reassuring, or maybe it was simply your growing desire for Thomas. Whatever the reason, you allowed him to take you in his mouth, opening your legs wider to accommodate him.

As he began to taste you, you closed your eyes, letting the exquisite sensations wash over you.

Thomas's mouth moved skillfully, causing waves of pleasure to course through your body. You moaned softly, lost in the intensity of the moment.

Meanwhile, Alison watched you both intently, silently observing the interplay between you and Thomas. There was a sense of pride in her eyes but also some profound jealousy.

She wanted Thomas to acknowledge her as his primary source of lust, not some inferior second choice. However, she knew that your innocence held certain allurements for Thomas. Thus, she didn't show her feelings on her face, hiding them well.

You, however, were too preoccupied with the sensations cascading through your body to notice her jealousy.

The sensations continued to build, culminating in a powerful climax that left you shuddering. Thomas released you from his grasp, pulling away to admire your flushed face and quivering form.

You looked up at him, the afterglow of passion evident in your eyes. His gaze burned with possession and desire, the power dynamic between you tangible in the air.

"This is just tonight's beginning, Love," he murmured softly, a wicked grin playing on his lips, and your heart raced as you processed his words, anticipation building within you.

"Now, what do you think, Alison? How many fingers could I get into her virgin hole without tearing her?" Tommy asked, his voice laced with dark desire for you.

Alison raised her brows in a challenge and considered for a moment. "Two fingers, no more than that," she replied confidently.

"Two, eh?" Tommy mocked. "How about we start with one, Love?" Tommy suggested before asking you to spread your legs wide again.

As you complied, your nerves became jangled with anticipation.

You looked at Alison, seeking guidance from her as you lay there, exposed and vulnerable. Her cool demeanour seemed unshaken, giving you courage. She smiled reassuringly, telling you that you could handle this.

As Thomas moved closer, his hands slowly caressed your thighs, sending shivers down your spine. He took his time, pressing his first fingers against your entrance, attempting to penetrate you gently.

You cringed at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing in response.

Thomas, surprised by your tightness, forced his digit into you nonetheless.

You cried out in pain, your body resisting his intrusion. He stopped, hesitated for a moment, then pulled his finger out carefully. Alison's expression remained unchanged, unperturbed by your distress.

"You may need some practice, Love," Thomas commented, his voice dripping with condescension. You bit your lip, trying to control your tears, fighting back the urge to succumb to despair. You refused to accept defeat, determined to prove your worth in Thomas's eyes.

"I can take more than one finger, sir," you said defiantly, looking directly into his eyes. Thomas regarded you with a mix of curiosity and appreciation.

"Let's see how much you can truly take, Love," he murmured, his tone hinting at the challenge ahead. Slowly, he pressed his second finger against your entrance, this time applying more pressure. You winced, your body instinctively protesting the intrusion.

Thomas observed your reaction closely, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

As you clenched your teeth, refusing to cry out in pain, he pushed his finger deeper into you. Despite the burning sensation, you maintained your resolve, staring straight into his eyes with determination. Alison continued to watch from the sidelines, her demeanour unmoved by your discomfort.

"Not bad, Love," Thomas acknowledged, his voice imbued with respect. His fingers flexed within you, pushing further in as you tried to bear the increasing discomfort.

Your face contorted with pain, your body struggling to adjust to the foreign invasion. With each incremental advance, you gritted your teeth, silently vowing to overcome the pain.

Alison's gaze remained steady, unwavering, her expression betraying no sympathy for your suffering. As your agony intensified, you felt a renewed sense of determination, fueled by your need to prove yourself worthy in Thomas's eyes.

Sweat trickled down your forehead, a testament to your resolve.

"I can take it," you reassured Tommy again, even with tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

Thomas was now visibly impressed with your resilience. He admired your courage and tenacity in the face of immense pain.

"I know you can, Love, but I don't want to stretch you too much just yet. My cock will take care of that tomorrow night," he groaned, withdrawing his fingers from you, causing a wave of relief to wash over you.

You wiped away the tears, taking deep breaths to calm your ragged nerves. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to regain composure.

Alison watched Thomas's every move with an unreadable expression, her thoughts hidden behind her emotionless mask. She seemed neither envious nor impressed, merely observant.

You looked at Thomas, seeing something new in his eyes - a hint of admiration, perhaps even respect." Tomorrow night, Love, I will not be so kind," Tommy then said to you, his voice carrying a warning mixed with promise. Your heart skipped a beat, the excitement growing within you before he told you to leave his bedroom so that he could finish off with Alison.

"Mr Shelby, may I watch? Perhaps I could learn something from it for our encounter tomorrow night," you suggested, and Thomas smirked.

"By all means, Love, you can watch while fuck Alison. Although bear in mind that what I am about to do to her is not something you will be capable of enduring just yet, eh" Thomas said before motioning for Alison to come over so that he could fuck her.

She approached him with a cool confidence, undoubtedly aware of the power dynamics between them.

Your eyes followed every movement, absorbing the raw, primal energy of their interaction.

Without losing any time, Alison got on to all fours.

"Very good, Alison. She knows that this is how I like to fuck her," Tommy said before he took position behind her, grasping her hips firmly and pulling her close to him.

He was hard and ready after having toyed with you for an hour, and, without losing any time, he lined himself up with Alison's entrance without giving consideration as to whether she was wet enough or not.

His forceful entry caused Alison to let out a sharp gasp, her body jolting slightly as she tried to adapt to his unexpectedly brutal thrust.

Thomas, driven by lust and power, took control of the situation, forcing Alison to submit to his desires. Her resistance, if there ever was any, was crushed under the weight of his dominance.

You watched with bated breath, fascinated by the spectacle unfolding before you. Alison's face remained impassive, though her eyes betrayed a mixture of pain and resignation.

In her moments of quiet defiance, she would occasionally look over at you, her gaze holding a subtle challenge. It was clear that she was both envious and threatened by your presence, torn between admiration for Thomas's preference for you and fear of being replaced entirely.

As Thomas continued his brutal assault on Alison, you found yourself growing increasingly aroused by the sight. The erotic tension between them heightened, fuelling your own desires.

You could not help but feel a twinge of envy as you watched Thomas and Alison engage in their fierce, unapologetic union. Their bodies moved in harmony, each thrust eliciting a moan or grunt from the other. Thomas's strength and dominance contrasted beautifully with Alison's feigned indifference, creating a seductive dance of power and submission.

Your heart raced as you observed their fervent exchange, your breath quickening with each powerful thrust.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with palpable sexual tension, leaving you feeling utterly captivated. Alison's performance was a masterclass in maintaining composure despite the brutality of Thomas's thrusts. It was almost as if she enjoyed being on the receiving end of his domination, albeit with a veiled resentment towards you for being his chosen concubine.

As the intensity of their coupling reached its peak, Thomas pulled out of Allison and called for you.

"Kneel and open your mouth. I want you to take my cum" he said, his voice laced with authority. You felt a surge of power as you obeyed him, opening your mouth eagerly, your lips parted in anticipation. Thomas's arousal was evident as he stood above you, his eyes filled with desire.

"Make sure you swallow, eh?" he groaned before shooting his load into your open mouth. Your cheeks bulged as you swallowed, savouring the taste of his seed as it coursed down your throat. The act served as a reminder of your place in his world – submissive and willing to please him at any cost.

Thomas watched you intently, a hint of satisfaction playing across his features. His gaze held a mixture of admiration and possession, making you feel cherished but also owned. Alison, having witnessed the entire encounter, glared at you with a jealous, defiant air.

You held her gaze, unfazed by her hostility. Though you were physically weak, your spirit was strong, unbowed by her disapproval. The battle lines had been drawn, and you knew that your relationship with Thomas would only grow more complicated as time passed.

As you cleaned up, you could not help but feel a sense of accomplishment. Though the evening's events left you drained and sore, you knew Thomas's trust in you had grown significantly.

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annie-silverl2 · 6 months ago

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CHARACTER STUDY: Darkwing Duck, Representation of the superhero or the insecure man?

INTRODUCTION

Good morning / good afternoon / good evening, whatever time you are receiving this, I hope you have been keeping up with your sleep schedule, and we are back with some loose ideas for characters in an animated comedy show. I apologize for the delay, it is difficult to have good plans to express the ideas that are lingering in my poor memory. I will probably mention some of my own ideas to explain some information. So be prepared for me to hide parts of the story or make jokes with double meanings among readers and acquaintances of mine who mentioned the entire plot. Without further ado about this post for the holidays, let's face the night duck!

IMPORTANT WARNINGS ABOUT SENSITIVE CONTENT: MENTIONS OF LIKELY COPING BEHAVIORS AGAINST BULLYING OR RECURRENCES SUCH AS GRIEF AND LOW CONFIDENCE.

DARKWING DUCK SERIES - Taking everything the show SAYS for itself

Darkwing Duck, aka, Drake Mallard, is the central protagonist of the series' story along with his social circle, both family and local criminals. The series will not have a direct say as it did with the rest of the characters, no, no, that would be too much luck. A conclusion, out of curiosity, of an art project by Tad Stones and Bob Kline called “Double O Duck”. Moving on to the story before, he became a considerably clumsy crime fighter. A visual sample is given in the episode entitled.

“The Secret Origins of Darkwing Duck” was nothing more than a parody of the great Superman, but to summarize the content. The young Drake was sent to Earth by the destruction of his planet along with Negaduck where the young duck spent his time training to face the opposing duck (it's a very short summary, sorry). The parody sequence was cut, in relation to the episode “Paraducks” where Darkwing made a paradox that made his younger self need help from his older self to face a group of troublemakers and shoplifters.

Ironically, this version reunites with the continuation of his childhood to adolescence, following the episode “Crash Reunion” where they confirm that Drake Mallard himself studied and was bullied for a considerable time by the former Megavolt entity, Elmo Sputterspark. In many parts that are searched separately will complicate to a difficult level and to put together independent material is worse Going, but hold on there because I will do you a favour with the notebooks (be careful, I had to cut the technical part so as not to give away spoilers that will be used in the Purple Union AU universe).

DARKWING DUCK FANDOM - Building everything that was formed for the fans together with the most indirect interpretations perceived in my participation when writing or drawing with lore

Darkwing Duck/Drake Mallard is a character as popular as the other characters in his cast. Of course, some more and others a little less, however, both the protagonist brings enough mystery and characteristics to attract all types of writers and fans, from the series to the comics from 2010 to 2024. I also love the dynamics and stories involving Darkwing, it has the essence of 80s-90s comedy, the animation is one of the few in Disney's transition period. The story behind the character, however, is what gets me because there is nothing to deepen his life before the series and the comics. All the events that readers get are after his entire life, even more so with some rumours that make you stop and think about what exactly happened to make everything go wrong for DW.

At this point, just like Megavolt, I have some points regarding the development and carelessness of the narrative in addressing some themes. For the character Darkwing Duck, it goes much further than what is done with any other character. The character suffered from what I call the “clean formula.” Why this name? The answer is simple: it is exactly every piece that leads to a direct influence on the character’s mind, and in the next episode it is partially or totally undone to continue with the script of a single episode, which is somewhat exaggerated? Yes, my explanation makes it seem that way, but going deeper, I might be able to convince you of this point.

IN DARKWING DUCK appearing in the episodes:

Darkwing Duck - Series (1990-1991, 3-4 Seasons) -

IN DUCKTALES 2017 appear in the episodes:

The Duck Knight Returns! (Season 2, Episode 16)

Moonvasion! (Season 2, Episode 24)

Let's Get Dangerous! (Season 3, Episode 12)

Escape from the Impossible! (Season 3, Episode 13)

The Last Adventure! (Season 3, Episode 22)

IN COMICS (Boom! Studios and Joe Books):

Darkwing Duck - Series (1991-1996, 48 editions)

Darkwing Duck: "The Quackshot" (1991)

Darkwing Duck: "Danger Time" (1994)

Darkwing Duck: Classics (2011) - IDW Publishing

Darkwing Duck: "The Untimely Terror of the Time Turtle" (2011)

Darkwing Duck: "The Duck Knight Returns" (2010)

Darkwing Duck: "F.O.W.L. Disposition" (2011)

Darkwing Duck: “Toy with Me” (2011)

Darkwing Duck: "Crisis on Infinite Darkwings" (2011)

Darkwing Duck: The Secrets of Darkwing Duck (2011-12)

Darkwing Duck Annual (2011)

Darkwing Duck: "Campaign Carnage" (2011)

Darkwing Duck: Omnibus (2014) - IDW Publishing

Darkwing Duck: The Definitively Dangerous Edition (2015) - Boom! Studio

Darkwing Duck (2016-2017, 8 editions) - Joe Books

DuckTales (1988) - IDW Publishing

Uncle Scrooge (1986) - IDW Publishing

Walt Disney's Comics and Stories (1991) - IDW Publishing

Disney Afternoon (2013) - IDW Publishing

DuckTales/Darkwing Duck (2019) - IDW Publishing

Disney's Hero Squad (2019) - IDW Publishing

Darkwing Duck: Justice Ducks(2024) - Dynamite

DARKWING DUCK/DRAKE MALLARD - Story adapted without extreme spoilers, just adding the changes, ideas on his biological identity and influence:

With the introduction of the character in the Ducktales universe in 2017, there were many doubts. Not only him, however the other characters in his show suffered with the drastic change, involving all the participants and some actors such as Jim Starling, the former Negaduck. Drake Mallard is also an actor, replacing the original Darkwing Duck, who was Mr. Starling. And as we know, the character tried to get revenge and regain his great role of glory. The aspects related to his family are left open regarding the relationships before Launchpad, Fenton and Gosalyn. The changes were not that many, to a certain extent the changes make the character follow the line of his development as in the original series.

Focusing on his future, while the aspects that need to evolve arrive, positively or negatively, as the character has his moments as a hero. Or, in some cases, a not very responsible personality as a night watchman and experience will seek his responsibility as the criminals appear. In the description most often used in some of my or shared ideas, it is Drake Mallard working as a member of the acting team. Either directly as a protagonist or as an employee for effects and preparation for filming, involving everything from makeup, improvisation to editing after filming. When he is no longer active in the studios, since the events of Ducktales “The Last Adventure”, Drake Mallard came into contact with SHUSH due to some missions involving local superheroes and criminals. For now, he tends to work alone to face the big personalities of Saint Canard, he was just a vigilante until the arrival of new characters that can directly affect his way of thinking or acting (for now this part will be cut, but it is related to some future AUs with my help in the main art).

One point that was added is that Drake's childhood significantly influenced many things in his life. His family, especially, and being a little more specific about HIS ABSENCE in his life story, the character here carries many mysteries about how this happened. In the past, together with Elmo, Drake was tormenting so much that he continued in the current storyline. People hardly expect anything good from him. Although, he managed to have good influences. Such as his mention of the old show, it is an idea that I add that the series was originally presented by his father before the events that gave rise to his last events. It is a case of almost hyperfocus / a fascinating on the character, even with the near-death incident for Jim Starling, who previously became an idol. The meaning behind it did not disappear, as it was the memory that gave him his true motivation, even with everyone who does not trust him or sees him as useless (remembering that he had his ups and downs and is not confirming anything). There was a difference in Drake's portrayal of the character, who carries enough for his life and dealing with situations that put him down, very different from Elmo, who carried repressed anger until he exploded in full fury. The point is that the show would have meant much more family than directly the actors involved, not disregarding the event of nostalgia. Of course, Drake is an old guy, although the notes make him about 5 years younger than the original.

DARKWING DUCK/DRAKE MALLARD - Character Design:

Concept art Vs Final Design (Credits to User Acmeoop)

Canon Redesign

DEVELOPMENT:

One fact that I note as responsible for the brief evaluation of most DWD viewers goes far beyond opinion. Even though it influenced a good part of the critics of the time and even today, with how they deal with the program as a whole and even in the approaches given to recent writers (there were some situations of writers coming and going, I recommend doing more research if you are interested in the behind the scenes). The main fact is that I reached a conclusion after reviewing the episodes in English three times, the fact is the script style of the episodes, no, no, calm down! I'm not saying that the episodes made are bad. I love every questionnaire for the writers who didn't drink too much caffeine- I love the style, the fact that I enter is considered the atmosphere of the first pilot of the show.

“Darkly Dawns the Duck” was the first episode I looked for when I still didn't know the program. I initially came from the beginning of the release of Ducktales 2017. A fact that makes me only look for the episodes to review, it is directly about the atmosphere. The first episode mixes the tone of comedy and the tone of seriousness with balance. The scenes in which Taurus Bulba appears have always had an air of villainy worthy of a film by the studio, and without a doubt one of the few in the series that challenge Darkwing Duck's inner concern. Once again, this mood returns in a tone similar to the episode “Steerminator”. My sense of production is affected due to ADHD (and in the current situation I feel like I'm going to leave with another diagnosis, so get ready to deal with an imperative or “inattentive” young woman). Without losing the point, I say that Darkwing Duck could have followed the line of these episodes. Not just the constant continuity made from the comics and double episodes, in general, it would have been a big difference if it were remade in modern times. There is a fan universe that Beatriz (@zelda-cooper) and I made called “Classic” where we redid some changes in the 1990 Darkwing Duck series. One of the main ones was the mood of the episodes, of course, there are still great moments and development thanks to the tone of the comedy and some silly moments of family banter. However, one of the main differences is in the atmosphere and some changes in the events involving the character's life against crime. In the same way that he got some moments right, there were times when he was irresponsible due to his behaviour, an example? We have directly the degradation of his relationship with the main team of the Fearsome Five, there were ugly fights, there were threats. There were also events related to the appearances of these criminals and the main point that I will mention as a bonus is his origin story, yay! So will we have a mini Drake? Yes, my child, feel free to give an excerpt of the ideas that I wrote down in the notebooks for both the shared universes and the LYG AU.

Eliane and Musson Mallard are the names I chose for the characters that represent Drake's parents. The essential information is that Eliane had a job outside the home, and it was thanks to it that she met Musson. And, let's say, this job was not the most conventional for someone looking for a quiet family. Well, here is the first step towards a stubborn personality like Drake's could have been influenced thanks to a rebellious woman after World War II. She had a job, personal items, access to difficult equipment and had such a strong personality and was committed to bringing security to people. Hm? Was it golden with a young protagonist who would confidently lead her story? Yes, Eliane was a mix of a friendly, caring personality for a person who had high confidence and a desire to find solutions. Musson, he was created taking as reference the silliest traits of Drake, the real Darkwing Duck, besides the mask, he was a goofy, clumsy, not very mature or with a sense of being a common person. I hope the small excerpt I removed is understandable. One point I tried to make is that Drake directly had or could have had the influence of a person as eccentric as his future self, but without the “Paraducks” part. In this version, it was his own parents who inspired traits of his older personality. So, where were they both in the end? Unfortunately, as a good writer and artist, we must have the courage to put the blade to the fate of OCs, like Bruce Wayne. The Mallards' deaths are unknown. Drake still doesn't remember them completely, it was right when they left. In this space, so, created the participation of another character called Dap, Daphine Mallard, who was her little brother's legal guardian during his elementary years until the end of high school, and where is she? Unfortunately, the two don't talk to each other for a small reason linked to the X of all the character's relationship conflicts, LACK of communication.

CONSEQUENCES

The only point that raises doubts and raises some questions in the minds of fans is directly related to Drake Mallard's self-destructive personality. Individuals with events marked by high stress or lack of freedom to deal with things go through many things in their lives, and this goes from reality to fiction. Mourning, bullying, low self-esteem and anxiety are the main points that I found when reviewing the character's ups and downs. Maybe it's not so obvious, I thought at first that it was just an idea in my head until I became aware of some thoughts from Darkwing's own artists and writers. Officially or from fan activities, it is an essential fact to relate to the beginning and end of a journey. The problem that marked it was exactly this jump back to the passage of the character's development, the difficulties, and traumas were not completely resolved, they still remain in the imagination and vision of the purple duck.

What makes me believe this is reviewing episodes related to the character's mind. “Dead Duck” is the most famous and once again made characters free to work on these points for the vigilante, but let’s leave my opinions aside and get to the questions. Why exactly did Drake never have the courage to properly fix his past relationships? Who did this directly affect? We see this among everyone with Morgana, their relationship is often cut short due to the recurrence of the lack of communication. Darkwing does not respect his partner’s wishes, interests, and even requests at times, and we regularly see that situations lead both her and him to embarrassment. They think that Gosalyn could escape, in reality it is the complete opposite. Gosalyn clearly carries the hero’s motivational point, his reason for being rises and returns to the fight regardless of his original state. However, “Darkwarrior Duck” is not far removed from the imagination of some and possibly of the child who had to see his father as a worse criminal than the main cast. And it is hardly said between the hero and his insane counterpart. How do they deal with this? The answer is that we rarely have direct answers in the show, and this does not fail to bring thoughts for the fans to make.

RELATIONSHIPS

In the end, Darkwing Duck is a show chosen for children, as every company does with its cartoonish characters. However, here are some things from the point of view of a slightly older fan. The main characteristic of posts like this is to bring something original from a different line. According to the observations they left, whether serious or not. Between the lines of the show, those involved in writing Darkwing Duck still brought great things that can be used in the imagination for the present day. Feel free to disagree or correct some points, just like any artist. I am open to having opinions to develop and have better results. The character's relationships vary mainly according to the author's objective. One pattern, by chance, is the perception of how much could be deepened how much Darkwing Duck relates to his family and friends. How close he is and his strengths and weaknesses, even with all the duck's appreciation for them. Also, the parallel of his personality with the fearsome ones, there are some characteristics that have a sequence of being too specific with the opposing choice, some ideas below.

CREATIVE WRITING: What ideas can be worked and how can each one fit in?

RELATIONSHIPS WITH THE SUPER VILLAINS:

The best place to start is with the lowest expectations, when there is a group against the character's difficulties. Do you remember when I said that you could explore the superhero's similarities and differences with his villains? I'll give you a less visible example: Quackerjack. The character can be a counterpoint directly related to his stubbornness and inability to change, as he gets into his mind and is seen in episodes that require dealing with new information or new relationships. The same reasoning goes for Liquidator, and his greed. The mutant's character is directly related to greed for objects, but Darkwing could very well be related to indirect greed, the accumulation of things, his interests versus the needs of others. Did the examples help? In this regard, just take the opportunity to play around with how well his dynamics can work to maintain his stability and sense of duty. At the same time that he needs to face figures that remind him how close he is to being someone as crazy as evil, he has the strength and skills to his advantage in the fight. As far as it can serve for other points, such as the degradation or approximation of their dynamics, feel free to here.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH FAMILY MEMBERS:

Gosalyn is her daughter, despite being adopted, she is everything to her character, she is her motivation, her responsibility, and the fact mainly of some episodes. Her concern for her safety, from the smallest to the biggest troubles that she follows looking for help, her only relative, Drake Mallard under the mantle of Darkwing Duck. Their dynamic has many moments of comfort and affection, as well as learning over the course of some episodes. Sometimes, will she ever grow up, and how long will it take until she wants her independence? Will Darkwing/Drake be okay knowing that she can follow in their footsteps after so many arguments? There are many approaches to be made, from the adoption process, the trust being established, to the moments when both get into arguments due to lack of communication and. Speaking directly about this, Morgana Macawber was said to be the character's final romantic partner. Having only one problem that leads to many others, does Drake trust her? Does Drake really care about trying to bring her the comfort and trust that she deserves? Of all the episodes, inconsistency, and fights more than support and support, but how would it be working on its point? Did the two resolve it? Will Drake and Morgana be sincere enough to be reciprocally boyfriends, or a step further, as married? And what is the mother-daughter relationship between the witch and the hockey troublemaker like? Dig deeper! This is the best idea to play with, and there are no answers other than those I agree with when discussing with others. The dynamic also applies to friends, they can either have access or none of your identity.

NON-INTIMATE RELATIONSHIPS AND RELATIONSHIPS WITH STRANGERS:

The point that begins another similarity with some Fearsome, this time to the beloved Bushroot, Darkwing Duck is not great at keeping things private or completely safe unless necessary. One point that marks the attention sensor is his need for approval to a significant degree. However, what would it be like for the character when there are still no people who care about him beyond the closest ones, who are his friends and family? The development of a prepared hero is when he recognizes his ability as a guardian for people, but still knows what is important to keep everyone safe. Well, those he can reach, remember the brief end of Bud Flud, right? Of course, there wouldn't be all the responsibility of the character, however… if Darkwing Duck was responsible for some problem or mistake to someone innocent? How much would the common people not pull his feet? If all the attention and admiration he wanted to get were enough to make him worried and even panic about having his head on the news posts, “Is Darkwing Duck truly an ally or a threat to propagating these lunatics with powers?” Don't be afraid to be creative or a little dramatic, it is a point that allows for many points to be explored regarding the common personality and how one or the other influences the fate of Drake Mallard.

INTERESTING REFERENCES FOR YOU TO PICK YOU TO PICK UP FOR THE CHARACTER

Batman / Bruce Wayne of DC Comics

The Shadow of Detective Story Hour

Blitzo "Blitz" Buckzo of Helluva Boss

Rose Quartz / Pink Diamond of Steven Universe

CONCLUSION

For now, that's all, I got tired of editing again and, along with that. Unfortunately, I was out of ideas of how to organize this, especially having to remove all the points that gave too much revelation to the story in planning. I hope I have answered your request well enough, what do you think of the next Liquidator being? I have some ideas for revamping the future post. Leave your opinions open, I would love to see what you think of this clumsy vigilante, see you? BYE-EEEEE!

#darkwing duck #ducktales #darkwing duck au #ducktales au #disney duckverse #duckverse #drake mallard #character study #additional ideas #headcanon

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aquicat · 7 months ago

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Innocence in the Dark Brotherhood Questline

I love the recurring theme of innocence in the Skyrim DB questline so much.

I like how it starts with this idea of 'Innocence lost.' Of course, Aventus is still innocent, he only wanted to save his friends, and yet he has caused a woman's death. So we are made to question the nature of innocence.

Grelod is possibly the first introduction we get to the idea of appearance vs reality in relation to innocence. She's called 'Grelod the Kind' but she's arguably the cruellest character in the game. She takes innocence from children, seeks to destroy it, and feels no guilt.

When you find Cicero on the road, he is innocent. Of everything he's accused of, that is - there are indeed no weapons or drugs in that big wooden box. Him screaming 'CICERO IS INNOCENT' was a bit heavy handed though ngl. Furthermore, he is continuously innocent of everything he's accused of. Like, no, he's not conspiring against you with a secret accomplice, Astrid.

That brings us onto Astrid, and onto the idea of innocence lost. It is implied that she committed her first murder at a young age, after her uncle abused her. The idea is that her innocence was taken from her, because she had no other choice but to kill him. Is it really her fault, what she does, if she was forced into this life by fate? Is she really Guilty?

Next up: Babette. If anything epitomises this theme, it's Babette, and the illusion of innocence. We see this theme in Cicero too, though to a lesser degree. Children are meant to be innocent. Babette is a child, but she is not a child, and she is not innocent. She is preserved in a state of perceived innocence, but her truth couldn't be further from it. Again, the idea of innocence being lost or taken away when she was turned.

A short note on Gabriella, who enjoys stabbing unicorns (a creature associated with innocence) with knitting needles. Destruction of Innocence.

And it goes without saying that many of the contract victims are innocent - especially Vittoria Vici, an utter victim of circumstance, killed on her wedding day, dressed in white.

Veezara: he was born into the Brotherhood as a Shadowscale, he had no choice in his life. Did he have innocence when he was born, if he was always fated to lose it?

Circling back to Cicero (bcs lets face it i have a problem) there are also lots of example of innocent, childlike phrases both in and outside his dialogue. Ignoring the fact that 'Best friends forever' and 'oki-doki' completely break the lore of Skyrim, they tie into this idea of the fluidity of innocence. Parts of someone can be innocent, while others are not, innocence is easily faked, and signs of innocence can be hollow, and terrifying, when accompanied by a person with so much guilt. Guilt is also interesting, because Cicero is about the only member to show any kind of guilt - guilt about killing the jester, and about hurting Veezara. He doesn't set a very high bar, but it's there. We could say that it's because of this guilt he develops, alone with his memories and thoughts in the Cheydinhal sanctuary, that he puts on this very innocent persona; because let's face it, if he's trying to achieve a disguise of sorts, it's not working.

The final quest: 'Dark Brotherhood Forever!' again, very childish phrasing, very innocent.

And finally the Black Door: What is life's greatest illusion? Innocence, my Brother.

#meta #cicero #skyrim #dark brotherhood #tes #the elder scrolls #cicero skryim #analysis #fan theory #I mean it's a basic observation but still #I like it

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thebluewizardlives · 4 months ago

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The Well

Summary: Elrond shows the earth smith something important, and Morinë reveals what she was actually doing in the forest when they first met.

Chapter 04: The Beginning

Ch: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

Offering his arm, Morinë reluctantly hooked her own as he guided her through the crowd, down the neat but winding streets of the city. Not long after they arrived at the entrance of a narrow but towering structure. While beautiful, as she had come to expect from Elven architecture, but it was much quainter than the other buildings; something she attributed to its age as she inspected the ancient, hand-painted murals. Slowly, they climbed the many steps to the top, though Morinë wished roughly halfway through that she would have preferred being carted the rest of the way up.

Upon clearing the last step, Morinë caught her breath only to lose it again, beholding the view before her. From a large window, the whole of eastern Lindon could be seen; the rolling hills and mountains beyond its walls, a lush sea of gold and green, brimming with life. Her shoulders fell slightly, disarmed by its beauty. “So, this why you’ve brought me here.”

“Partly, tell me what you see.” He moved to stand next to her by the window. Looking out, Morinë pointed out the landmarks they had visited, peppering in details of what she had noticed and questions about what she hadn’t. While he had imagined what the sound of her voice might be, his imaginings paled in comparison, now lost in conversation, mesmerized by the sound of her voice. Clearing his throat, Elrond continued, “Do you see those mountains in the distance?”

“Most would find them rather difficult to miss.” She replied lightly, though her expression was curious.

“For years I’ve come up to this tower. To see this view, to think,” he began, looking out as he spoke,” After the War of the Jewels, they did not look as they do now; wilted and near-baren. Well after the battlefields had been cleared, the stench seemed to cling to the very earth as if it had always been so. I began to wonder if it was an omen after a time. However, I still found myself, week after week, trekking up these stairs just to gaze out this window. Inevitably, I would return, as though something I could not fully perceive was at work; I just needed to be here to witness it. And then, a few years ago, I heard word that some large, earthen structure had been erected, just beyond those very mountains. A keep with spires and arches yet no seams. I was intrigued but thought little of it after a time. That is until I returned to this tower to see green peaking over the horizon of what many were sure was lost.” Turning to her as he continued,” Now farmlands flourish there, because of your work.”

Morinë held his gaze for a moment, taken aback. Despite laboring long and hard, she presumed her contribution to restoring the lands of Middle Earth a modest one. That it had somehow reached so far was more than she had ever imagined—than she’d ever hoped. Her expression softened.

“While it is the High King’s duty to instill peace and stability throughout the realm, it is my duty to support our collective path forward however I can, not only for the Elves, but all Middle Earth. I believe our goals are aligned in this way.”

“I believe they are.” Morinë responded sincerely, though she found it hard to believe someone like himself would be so committed to helping them; those who may have looked down on him. She knew Peredhel meant Half-elf, and there was little ambiguity in what the Elves thought men. “You truly care for these people, don’t you?” she asked, a bit of surprise coloring her voice.

“Don’t you?”

She stood in thought for a moment, considering his words. The continent had been terraformed by bloodshed. While Morgoth may have been defeated and Sauron forced into hiding, their destruction would resonate through the lands for many years to come. Middle Earth was on the horizon of returning to some semblance of balance, but she feared it may never fully come to fruition if she failed in her mission. Tried as she might to deny it, something deep within urged her to speak, convincing her the events of the last month had happened for a reason.

“More than you know. There is a darkness that seeped into the very soil of Middle Earth. It was many years before I was able to convince anything to grow. In truth, you were correct earlier— it is not often that I work with others, my doings have been rather solitary for years now,” she agreed, brandishing a rueful smile before reluctantly continuing,” However, I realize this must not be my way if I am to succeed.”

“While I’m inclined to agree with the sentiment, I’m unsure if I fully understand your goal—what must you succeed in exactly?” He could tell she had been withholding something about the nature of her research but hadn’t an inkling as to what it could have been. While she had been poised before the High King and his questioning, Elrond knew all too well the appearance of secrets and those who kept them.

“To be frank, I partly expected you might leave me in the woods to succumb to my wounds. Many others would have.” She stated matter-of-factly though the sadness in her eyes could not be completely hidden, “I would like to trust you. However, I require a test, of sorts.”

“… What kind of test?”

“A sorcerer’s test. It is meant to determine a person’s trustworthiness. Would you allow me to perform it on you?”

He scoffed for a moment, assuming she was making an odd joke before his smile dropped, a serious look on her face as she awaited his response., “If I do, will you tell me the whole truth in return?”

“If you promise to guard it with your life as I have, then yes, I will.”

Pausing to study her, he thought for a moment about the weight of this decision. Morinë possessed a power that was not known to him, and he was unsure as to what this test was he agreed to. Nonetheless something within urged him forward, conceding this was necessary, “Then I promise.”

Morinë nodded slowly before stepping closer, her hand pausing mid-air as she raised it,” I assure you, I will only look where is necessary.” She stated genuinely before reaching toward his neck. A look of confusion flashed across his face, though he did not move as her hand slid around to gently press her fingers against the base of his skull. Though they remained closed, her eyes continued to move rapidly behind her lids as though deep in sleep. From the many memories and trials he had seen in his long life, he wondered which she was viewing now as they stayed perfectly still for a time.

“Hm.” She simply said before opening her eyes. Her cool composure was lost for a moment, realizing how close they were, her thumb tenderly grazing the corner of his jaw. Quickly withdrawing her hand, Morine cleared her throat, collecting herself. Turning to face the window, her arms intertwined behind her back, a far-off look in her eyes as she spoke,” Do you know where you were when the spider brood attacked?”

“Of course, we had just passed the river Bruinen.”

“You were passing the Mirkwood.”

“I beg your pardon?“

“When I found you, you and your party were passing the Mirkwood near the Anduin river. There was as entire mountain range between you and the Bruinen river.”

“…That is physically impossible.”

“So it would seem. When I heard your shouts, I was working near the Old Forest, hundreds of miles away. While I am more physically adept than most Men, I could not have dreamed of reaching your party in a few minutes from that distance.”

His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of this information, “What are you implying?”

“The Mirkwood is growing. Its borders are fluctuating. Perhaps it is a new one, or maybe even the same one we know of now, but its growth and my spontaneous travel across hundreds of miles are but two of the dozens of anomalies I have experienced over the past year.” She confessed, concealing the worry in her voice as she continued to stare out at the lush landscape. “While I am truly humbled to see these horizons thrive, I fear there may be another, darker one elsewhere we cannot see yet. From my limited research thus far, these irregularities seemed less infrequent the longer Middle Earth was freed from the rule of Morgoth, but they have returned. Not simply as they were, but more strange, more unpredictable. I have not determined their pattern or their cause yet, if there even is one. These may very well be just another side effect—an echo of the past, one that will fade in time without greater notice. However, I fear that may be wishful thinking.” She exhaled, her hands mindlessly fidgeting behind her back as she turned to face him,” Thus, I find myself in a difficult position. I must continue my research, but I do not wish to alarm anyone—namely the High King at present, if there is no just and substantiated cause to do so. Though the Elves seem a more measured race than Men, the peace of our realms is fragile and must be protected at all costs. I would not ask that you lie to your king, rather I ask that you support me in this endeavor to gather more information. Even though—"

“Yes.”

“What?”

“I said yes, I will help you.” He replied simply.

“That’s it? You would agree that easily?” she asked incredulously, wondering if he had properly heard her.

His expression was unreadable for a moment, “You truly did only look where necessary…” he almost murmured to himself. “We’ve not been acquainted for long, so I cannot blame you for having reservations, but know this: you are correct, this realm’s peace is fragile, it always has been. While you see the importance of this work based on knowledge, I see it because of experience. Darkness was all that I knew for an age, and I remember it vividly. If there is even a sliver of a chance your studies could prevent its return, I would gladly lay down my life to see it happen. You rushed to the aid of strangers uninfluenced by your own fate, and now you exercise caution to the same end; I trust you to conduct your studies here as you see fit.”

“Oh, I… I suppose that makes sense. Thank you.” She eventually managed to get out, anticipating much more resistance and questioning, “With all due respect, and my apologies if this sounds coarse, but I must admit you are rather curious, particularly for an Elf.”

“Half-Elf.” He corrected, “I do not wish to monitor you or become intrusive, but I trust you will continue to confide in me, curious as I may be.” A small smile appeared on his face at the embarrassment upon her own.

“Of course,” she responded quickly before composing herself,” You have my word. I will come to you with whatever I find. It is the least I can do.”

A few moments of quiet passed between them before a low, markedly guttural, distorted creaking reverberated in her ears. Though Elrond could hear the sound clearly, it felt as though he was eavesdropping on something private and personal. The sun was beginning to set, and after what felt like one of the most eventful days in recent memory, Morinë was happy to answer her companion’s call. “I suppose I know where I’ll be retiring tonight.” She murmured to herself, looking in the direction of the sound.

“I assume that is Coirëamár? I have never heard such a sound in all my days,” he commented sounding both appalled and awestruck.

“It sounds like home,” she smiled to herself. “Shall we go?”

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

They ended their day as it began, strolling through the various gardens and squares. It appeared to be needed as they walked silently, lost in thought from their earlier exchange, the sounds of evening filling the air. After a time, Morinë subtly began to lead the way as they arrived in a large, grassy knoll. Enclosed by a short stone wall, the entrance was an arch of the same material lit with gilded lanterns. Though one could likely step over the fencing, in this moment, the threshold felt as meaningful as the palace gates. Morinë stopped, turning to him. Coirëamár called once again, sensing her keeper was nearing.

“This is where we must part ways, for now.” She began, not sure of why she felt nervous, “I must thank you again... Shall we meet here tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile, a few moments of silence passing between them before he continued “Good night, Morinë.” He politely bowed before noticing her hand, now outstretched expectantly. Realizing what she intended, he gently grasped it with his own, finding the light callouses on her palm endearing. The path ahead seemed daunting, but as they parted ways each silently reveled, confident neither would face it alone.

Tags: @valar-did-me-wrong

#the rings of power #elrond #elrond peredhel #trop #elrond x oc #lord of the rings #elf x human #elrond trop #lotr elrond #rings of power #trop fanfiction #the silm fandom #elrond fanfic #fanfic #lord of the rings fic #The Well

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rebornrosess · 1 year ago

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A WORLD OF NOISE: THE ZABAJABA JUNGLE

ZABA by Glass Animals is 10 YEARS OLD TODAY.

A poem/stream of consciousness I wrote about ZABA on a rainy September night in 2022, one month after seeing Glass Animals live. ZABA was the album by which I found Glass Animals in 2018, and its abstract yet visceral nature continues to fascinate me. The more I listened, the more I felt I could understand the imagery drawn across its 11 tracks.

Essentially, I believe ZABA can be understood as a Queer reading and apologue of Plato’s allegory of the cave. There are many lines that allude to a (Queer) awakening from perceived societal constraints such as in Walla Walla (“it’s a ruse, all these creatures are a lie” & “i clap my hand and they’re gone into the night”), likely referencing the shadows projected by the puppet showmen in Plato’s allegory. Thus, the anguish expressed in songs predating ZABA’s release such as in Golden Antlers and in Exxus are symptomatic of a speaker trapped in a cave, unable to escape a deeper feeling of unease because they are only seeing the reality projected to them by a cisheteronormative system. It is only when the speaker escapes this metaphorical cave in Flip, the opening track of ZABA, (“I’m gonna shake my fetters / I’m breaking loose”), that they finally enter the confusing, overwhelming, but beautiful and fluid “world of noise” mentioned in Pools (and sonically created in Intruxx). Over the course of ZABA, the speaker wrestles with their preconceived notions of reality (Walla Walla uses a ton of imagery from The Matrix), relationships, gender, and sexuality, while simultaneously feeling betrayed by their family and society (Hazey and Toes).

The B-Side of ZABA dips into existential dread, as the speaker mourns the time they lost to the incomplete reality they had accepted in the cave, and the effects it had on their mental health (Wyrd), climaxing in Cocoa Hooves, as the speaker (or someone else), confronts them(selves) and the changes they have undergone in the ZABAJABA jungle. The speaker must choose if they wish to stay in the confusing yet euphoric jungle, or self-destruct (“set [their] wings on fire”) and return to the cave after flying too close to the sun and after indulging too deeply in their primal instinct. However, just as the freed prisoner in Plato’s allegory, the speaker runs the risk of never being able to live in blissful ignorance again, as their eyes may never re-adjust to the incomplete, crafted reality of the cave.

The last track of the album, JDNT, presents a conclusion as ambiguous as the title Dave refuses to explain. It is possible the speaker is accepting their doomed fate as prophecized to them by the antagonist in Wyrd, or radically accepting their outcast status, enjoying the “life untamed.” And perhaps, in the end, they triumph over their internal turmoil by recognizing it only has power over them if they allow it to, as it cannot “breathe without [them].” And thus, they return to the Earth, unfettered and born anew.

#if you read all that thank you i would love to hear your thoughts #also some lines in the poem are straight up just lyrics but #i wonder if anyone can piece together which portions reference which specific song #i have literally been working on this since last year #i can’t believe the poem itself is finally seeing the light of day #hopefully someone enjoys these rambles because i have 50 more pages from where this is from LMAO #my masterdoc is crazy #anyways this is all just my interpretation mixed with projection but i am very proud regardless #i could ramble about this for hours #anyways i hope u guys enjoy :) i’m so happy i finally finished this #glass animals #zaba #collage #my art

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mybookof-you · 8 months ago

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2024.11.06

I awoke earlier than usual this morning after a restless night of sleep. Coffee was brewing as I heard the news piping into the kitchen that America, my country, was destined for an eminent Trump presidency. I reacted at first with disbelief, but as further information was delivered the reality became clear. My heart is broken. I sat with my warm mug alongside my husband taking in this reality. I have been crying for about an hour or two. So much inexpressible grief and concern for those who will be most ill-effected. So much worry for the direction of the future of our planet and our global human connection.

The news I watched pointed to the fact that Trump represented a change in economies that spoke to middle America. I cannot blame people for wanting to preserve their pockets, homes, and families or values they feel are eroding. I do not believe Trump’s answers will fully realize those hopes for positive change, but it looks like we are going to find out. I believe he is the wrong answer to those concerns.

I fear that Trump’s presidency will deliver authoritarian rule in a way we will not be able to overcome for generations. Again, it looks like we are going to find out just what a second Trump presidency will bring. Most of all, I fear that people who will be devastated by the coming administration will not be heard, and their muffled cries will go silently into the darkness, forgotten like so many who have historically been marginalized, dealt with, and eliminated.

I fear for Ukraine, Israel, Palestine, and Taiwan. I fear for under-represented groups like the LGBTQ community, communities of color, and the poor who suffer beneath a structure which keeps them from rising above their situation. The elderly. The expendable.

I fear for our planet, and the future of all creatures which depend upon it. The answer may come from the science that has already explained the climate change we are experiencing. That devastation will predictably continue exponentially if we do not act responsibly. The future may be on Mars. The future may be aided by genetically modified plants and new methods of growing food. I believe science will help us in our uncertain future.

Though, I would rather not go there. The state of health of planet Earth is the only area I wish to move backward and promote a more sustainable lifestyle, economy, and direction based on interdependence of people from across small, local communities to the global community. We all matter, and more than us, the Earth itself is a precious gift we, the top of the food chain, were trusted to steward and preserve. Our very lives depend on the stability of the ecosystem we selfishly trash in order to serve our immediate needs. We can attempt to synthesize what we need to survive the destruction we bear responsibility for, but if the Earth’s design and system of functioning has worked why fix it? Why not listen to what She is saying and change to follow Her lead. She will outlive all of us, whether we are lucky enough to be here or not. She does not need us. We need Her.

We need one another. I do not want to move backward toward dehumanizing those who are not like us. The human self-centered thing to do in crisis is to square-off and draw lines between ourselves and those who do not share our perspectives, our cultures, and our skin color. It is easy to fall into that false sense of security, when, in truth, our future is safer and more sound when we consider the whole of creation, all people, all creatures, and all elements of our world.

Purging and sanitizing the world of anything we do not accept as our personal own is not a solution. It is self-deprecating. It is a plan to eliminate and silence perceived enemies and create new ones. It is an unending path toward bloodshed. It is genocide. It is an endless cycle of victimization from which no one is guaranteed protection.

I would advocate the preservation of all life. Communication. Understanding. Respectful disagreement. Compromise. Solutions reached to promote all peoples and all of life. There are most certainly no easy solutions. My hope is that viable solutions which value all of us are attained. That is what I will attempt to work toward within the tiny space I occupy and continue to find hope. Tomorrow is another day, and I claim it for me and for you, for all of us and for everything.

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jewishvitya · 2 years ago

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I just wanted to thank you so much for all of your insight and generosity with your perspective as an anti-zionist israeli, something you absolutely don't owe us but I feel immense amounts of respect and admiration for. from an American jew, it's been so valuable to know there are people like you out there, it's made everything feel much less hopeless despite all the hopelessness. I've felt very alone recently, surrounded by all the Jewish people in my life who are pro-israel and don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation and my pro-palestine gentile friends, and I've felt very alone in my grief as I've only really started to unpack and dismantle my own biases very recently. reading your posts and your perspective on everything has just made me feel very seen as a jew in this situation, especially as I try to reconcile my feelings about everything going on with my own feelings about my faith and my identity.

you've probably seen that I've gone through a lot of your posts and that I've followed you. i just want you to know that I'm not necessarily following you just for that, I know you're just a fandom blog, it's just that after looking through your posts I feel like you're just a really nice person and seeing yoi on my dash from you would be endearing coming from you even though im not into it myself.

just. thank you again for sharing your story and continuing to share. you have no idea how much it's helped me.

I'm in tears. I've been crying way more than usual over the past couple of months, but it's nice for a change to have those tears to come from being touched instead of grief. I apologize if I'm going to ramble.

You say I didn't owe you all this, but I do feel responsible. I'm watching so much destruction and seeing how comfortable people around me are with the loss of life. This is why I've been talking about what we do and not as much about the impact of October 7 on me or people I know. I did a bit of that in the beginning, but pretending it was the start of everything to keep going back to that one day, after two months of horror, as if I can't count past 7... I didn't choose to be born where I am, I didn't choose to grow up in the most extremist community this place has to offer. But since I'm here, since I'm comfortable at the expense of Palestinians and violence is being done in my name and I have the tools to highlight issues within my society, I think it's a moral obligation.

I know how I talk about things here, and that's genuinely because I don't want to minimize the severity of the racism and the nationalism in Israel. And someone perceived my words as showing hatred for Israelis. But... I love my people. I don't expect those who see or experience our violence to feel the same or even understand me, but I do. It's my neighbors and my childhood friends and my family. It's children I see playing outside and getting excited when they see I have a cat, and the random people who stop me in the street and give me directions if they think I look lost.

Even growing up in the West Bank settlements, the people were very good to me. I needed years to internalize the fact that this kindness doesn't get extended to you if you're not part of the in-group. It broke my heart. It still does. Seeing people who I know are capable of kindness and compassion, hardening themselves against the pain of other human beings. Closing their eyes and telling themselves it isn't real. It's all an act.

I told a friend I feel like I'm betraying my mom, who was deeply bigoted, but also a wonderful mother. She taught me a lot of the principles that are guiding me now - I just took down the walls she put around who deserves to be considered. She'd be horrified with seeing the things I'm saying if she was still alive. But she taught me to care about people, I just decided it means all people.

Everyone should be prioritizing Palestinian liberation, and at the same time, I care about this too. I care about the morality of my people. I need us to be better than this. I want to dismantle the nationalism that teaches us hate and violence so we can start to heal and come to terms with what we did (and still do) here. I want us to fix what we can and hold ourselves accountable. I want us to reimagine safety in a way that doesn't cause harm, and build good relationships with the rest of humanity. Every marginalized community is experiencing bigotry in interactions with every other community, that's just how these things work. But I believe healing the world, and healing my society, is possible.

And it's hard, because so much of what we learn is rooted in truth. Antisemitism is real. Millennia of persecution are real. The trauma we carry is real. If the idea of an ethnostate makes us feel safe, and the idea of losing it makes us scared, how do we differentiate between fear as a natural reaction to antisemitic violence and fear that was taught to us for the sake of nationalism? Especially those of us living in Israel, immersed in the propaganda. It doesn't matter in practice, our feelings of safety or fear don't justify an ethnostate, especially not one built on top of another nation, but it matters for the conversations I have with people.

And I said that the violence I'm seeing feels like an attack on my identity. Seeing a giant hannukiyah in Gaza, when Hannukah tells the story of occupied people fighting off their oppressors. Seeing images that echo so much of the horrors that were done to us. The Magen David being used with hate and spite. It's all so painful. And I love this land, it's the only home I've known, so seeing us destroying nature and soaking it with blood and calling that connection?

Judaism does guide me here. The concept of tikkun olam. The idea of לא עליך המלאכה לגמור ולא אתה בין חורין לבטל ממנה - doing what I can, even if what I'm able to do isn't some decisive blow that entirely turns the tide. The idea that every human being is a whole entire world, to me it means that every single person alive is worth fighting for. So no matter how much death I see, there's still worlds more to save.

And Jewitches had this post that felt just healing to read. Nationalism hijacked our culture, and it will always leave a mark for centuries into the future. But I'm not letting go, and I'm not letting that create a rift between me and thousands of years full of history I can be proud of.

I feel your grief. And I'm grateful for the anti-zionist Jews I met by talking about this, because honestly, I need you people in my life. The pain and the anger are both easier to hold together.

So, thank you for following. I might follow back, just to see you around on my feed. And thank you for sending this. Feel free to message me anytime for any reason (I promise it won't result in a lecture every time).

Also, your url gave me pjo nostalgia

#riki babbles

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bwat5-blog · 5 months ago

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I just saw your post about Vander and Sevika and wanted to know whether you had any other thoughts about her mindset/intentions thru the show. Bc I think a lot of ppl rely on the idea of she was the one actually fighting for zaun and perhaps a compromise between Vander and Silco's ideologies. But that never sat completely right with me bc as you said she is complicit in Silco's distribution of shimmer and obvs didn't care for kids like Vi. We see her frustration I guess growing toward the end of season 1 with Silco and I assume she joined him/betrayed Vander genuinely believing that Silco was gonna do right by Zaun (rather than the safe but passive actions she maybe saw in Vander) but it just seemed a bit of switch up between her being Silco's right hand to then being perceived as the only one fighting for Zaun (when really that title definitely is reserved for the Firelights and Ekko). Sorry this is a long comment but I'm really interested in your take and love your stuff

Hi! Thank you for reaching out.

I believe she really thought that by betraying Vander and joining Silco she was fighting for Zaun. But like so many characters she lost her way.

Sevika was around twenty-seven years old at the time of the bridge massacre, after which Vander stopped fighting. So for six years she stayed with his crew even though he had given up the fight in favor of the deal he made with Greyson and peace in favor of freedom.

She was young and in her prime when she joined him

She grew up under Piltover's oppression

She is clearly angry

It isn't hard to see how she was swayed to the side of a charismatic leader like Silco. He promised to continue the fight, massing weapons and men, and preached strength and destruction of your enemies. But unfortunately I think she really became more of a gangster than anything during her time with Silco.

For me I just cannot see the argument that she was serving the people of Zaun in any fashion with the part she played in Silco's shimmer operations. Let alone her role as his feared right hand in the overall criminal organization. We of course don't have specifics. But the Firelights are directly opposing Silco, and I sincerely doubt that mural got filled up by Jinx and corrupt Enforcers alone.

Regarding the kids, while of course those are just individual character on character relationships, when it comes to Sevika I have always viewed them as a very clear representation of how like Silco, she totally lost her way. She is so passionate about defending the people when she talks, but even if they were never close she is directly involved in harming the exact sort of people she should have been defending.

*Side Note:

I was reminded of this moment earlier and it feels worth mentioning. So in season two I'm sure you remember Jinx and Isha have been living happily until Sevika comes and starts insisting Jinx get involved. Later when Isha is taken Jinx has her bad moment. This is Sevika's face as its happening-

I have touched on this more than once but it always bugged me how callous Sevika seemed to the damage done to Powder until Powder became Jinx and so on. I think in this moment Sevika is FINALLY seeing the real the depth of suffering Jinx has experienced in her life after all she went through.

Back to it!-

I think once Silco is gone and she has to start figuring it out for herself is when she really starts to see the light. Without Silco to keep them in line the Barons turn on each-other and start destroying Zaun. She tries to reason with them and realizes they don't respond to that. The very monster she helped create and unleash cannot be swayed. She even finds herself repeating Vander's creed, "we don't turn on our people".

She is forced to reckon with the fact that she betrayed Vander and did things Silco's way, and it has gone terribly wrong. So what does she start doing if it doesn't always work?

1. Having a rally for unity

2. Leading from the front in battle even along side Piltover

3. Sitting on the council itself as Zaun's voice and doing the hard work of creating peace through diplomacy rather than bloodshed

Peace and Action both. The middle of the two extremes Vander and Silco came to represent. So was she a compromise between them? Eventually.

Sorry this was long. But all in all I feel like she slowly began to see how badly she screwed up and starts working to fix things. Eventually becoming what she always wanted to be and speaking for her people.

I hope this was what you were wondering and I didn't ramble too much I'm tired lol. I really appreciate the questions!

#arcane #arcane season 2 spoilers #sevika arcane

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killatravs · 1 year ago

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i’m more interested in the woman who wrote this album then the people who may have inspired it. this album to me is a story of a woman with a fierce attitude and free spirit who tamped that part of herself down for many years and then made the choice to reclaim those parts of herself and the chaos, destruction, and mess that choice resulted in. for what probably felt like a lifetime last summer so much of what we perceived to be different stories (joe breakup, matty fling) were more intertwined then we were ever aware of and that entanglement and messiness of unraveling a life you built with someone and what comes after is all over this album. it’s beautiful and wretched and dramatic and spiteful but it’s so so human and i continue to be endlessly fascinated with taylor the person vs taylor the superstar

#my initial thoughts #taylor swift #ts ttpd #i don’t really care if this line is about matty and that line is about joe #or oh she wrote a kim k diss track #taylor swift is endlessly interesting all on her own

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girlactionfigure · 1 year ago

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When I was in Germany, I traveled outside of Berlin to meet some Palestinian friends who were part of the diaspora community in the country. I hung out with several individuals from Gaza or who have family in the Strip and are part of a network of individuals and organizations that are pro-Palestine. I had extremely intense conversations with these folks, some of whom listened and agreed, some of whom strongly disagreed, some of whom were confused by what I was saying, some who agreed but didn’t see a path forward, and some who literally threatened to beat me up if I didn’t stop talking. Here's what I got out of those conversations:

1. Hamas’s resistance narrative is widely accepted and embraced by large segments of the Palestinian diaspora community, particularly those who are less integrated into the nations in which they live, especially if their environment is mainly made up of other Palestinians, aka echo chambers.

2. Intense emotions and feelings dominate the discourse and how people view the war, Israel, Hamas, the conflict, and any discussions of responsibility and a path forward. Trauma, sadness, anger, and feelings of sheer injustice control the way people see what’s happening, October 7, claims and counterclaims, and competing narratives.

3. Opposition to Hamas, and my views and sentiments were instantly associated with treachery, weakness, cowardice, and embracing “Zionist lies and propaganda.” Undeterred, I argued that not only is opposition to Hamas necessary, courageous, critical, and inseparable from opposition to Israeli occupation and injustices, but that we are in this mess partly due to our complicit silence and acquiescence to Hamas’s Islamist propaganda and destructive narratives that harmed the Palestinians more than any Zionist could ever dream of doing.

4. Misinformation about so many incidents and occurrences is rampant. This is particularly the case when it comes to boycotting things like Starbucks, Coke products, McDonald’s, and hundreds of other goods. The list of “forbidden” things is so huge and contains the most ridiculous of items, such as KitKat, hot sauce, and innocuous consumer products, all because they are perceived as directly supporting Israel, the war, or the IDF. When challenged about the accuracy of their information, almost no one wanted to hear about the futility of these boycotts and their nonexistent impact on the war and broader Israel and Palestine discourse.

5. Some were incredibly furious at me for challenging the “martyrdom” narrative, and one person threatened me with physical violence if I didn’t stop maligning martyrdom. Of course, I didn’t back down and proceeded to rationally challenge this idea of Gazans killed in the war after October 7 being martyrs with a ticket straight to heaven and that this is Islamist propaganda and brainwashing that’s getting us nowhere. I said that my family was killed for nothing and that most Gazans who lost their lives would have chosen life over being killed so that Hamas could maintain its corrupt and despicable rule over the coastal enclave.

6. A pro-resistance man surprisingly agreed with me when I told him that Hamas prevented civilians from evacuating Gaza’s north early in the war and didn’t want people to leave, a ruthless decision that caused unnecessary loss of life. This is something that many Western fools refuse to acknowledge: Hamas wanted Gazans to stay put so that they could be used as human shields by the group and frustrate the Israeli military’s operations by causing maximum civilian casualties.

7. Several agreed with me that Hamas is only interested in maintaining power, but in the absence of alternatives, they didn’t see anything wrong with this. When I kept saying that Hamas’s continued rule in Gaza means endless wars and more death & destruction, none seemed to have any meaningful responses beyond some mumbles and incoherent rants.

8. The military occupation of the West Bank and settlement expansion kept coming up over and over. Whenever I pushed on Hamas, taking responsibility, having to accept Israel’s existence & continued existence, embracing and rebranding peace, rejecting violence, what’s happening in the West Bank kept coming up. Folks didn’t see Gaza in isolation, but as part of a broader issue/conflict/problem that can’t be compartmentalized. “If Gaza were peaceful, stable, and developed,” argued one man, “the West Bank will still be occupied,” which, in his mind, necessitates Hamas’s “resistance.”

9. This is my own assessment and inference, but I truly strongly felt that support for Hamas was primarily driven by the lack of alternatives and the binary nature of everything related to the conflict: Fatah VS. Hamas; Israel VS. Palestine; Armed resistance VS. diplomacy and nonviolence; us VS. them; kill VS. be killed; Palestinian narrative VS. Jewish narrative. In other words, there was almost little to no ability to hold multiple truths, approach the issue with nuance and rational balance, and an entrenched belief that one truth must inherently be mutually exclusive and must by default cancel out the other. When engaged, however, some were willing to think differently.

10. There was clearly a high degree of conformity when people were together versus when I engaged individuals one-on-one. In other words, group settings made for largely unproductive and hostile discussions, while individual conversations were much more likely to be productive and change people’s minds and thinking. This is consistent with the universal trend that individuals are smart, groups are dumb; people are afraid to say what they really believe and think in front of others but are much more likely to speak their minds when anonymous, alone, or away from the “community’s ears and eyes” as one gentleman put it.

In summary, my conversations were difficult and quite depressing in some regards. However, these same unpleasant and discouraging conversations actually gave me hope that with respectful, patient, persistent, rational, calm, evidence-based, and analytical/non-emotional engagements and outreach, meaningful seeds can be planted to change hearts and minds and begin the 1000-mile journey towards political transformation and the arduous effort to rebrand peace and coexistence as a necessary evolution to preserve the Palestinian people on their lands and forge a different path forward.

#freegazafromhamas #freepalestinefromhamas

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