#double angle identity | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

13tinysocks · 1 month ago

Text

My Dead Girlfriend

Surrounded by Marks, but you still yearn for him. You take soul-sucking measures to dull the pain, and get someone on your side to hunt down Phantom.

NSFW. Shlorp shlorp!

[Invincible Variants X Reader]

[Part one] [Ao3] [15] [17] [Chapter Index]

16 * Hindbrain [8.8k]

"Outside your house,

Down on my knees,

Swollen with doubt and animosity."

Mercy - Sir Chloe

Gray didn't turn around when he entered. Back to you, sat ridged, trying to rest and conserve what energy he had left. "What do you want?"

Tracksuit set you down on the corrugated metal sheet flooring as Maskless touched down beside him. "Wow dude, I come bearing gifts and this is the thanks I get?"

Gray turned, "What-"

Surprise wasn't an expression he was used to wearing. Foreign. Alien as his blooming feelings for you that he thought had been snuffed out with your apparent death. But there you were. Standing, leaning on a crutch. Dirty and miserable, but alive.

He looked nearly identical to the last time you saw him. Suit knicked, scratched in a few places. Hair undone, slightly longer. Strangely, no stubble grew from his cheeks. Somehow not a degree tanner or paler.

He swallowed back the urge to rush forward. He approached slow, measured. "My compatriot will be pleased at your return." He made himself say as he scanned clinically over your body. You weren't rapt with starvation and your skin was unburned by the sun. Curious. Then there was the mystery of the crutch and your wrapped and splinted leg. He didn't like the look of misery on you. Didn't like it one bit. "He will be returning from scouting soon." His eyes flicked to the others, hovering nearby. "You can go."

Tracksuit blinked. "Go?"

Gray nodded a tight solider's nod. "You've done well brining her back. Am I wrong assuming you would rather be rid of her?"

"What the fuck?" Tracksuit had to do a doubletake at the pure audacity. "I know I said gifts but that was a joke, man. She's like- a person."

"I am aware." Gray said, hovering around you in a loose circle, getting a better idea of your condition. The bruises made him rather unhappy, he had to suppress the urge to reach out. "She is a person safer in our care than anyone else's."

"Uh, yeah, that's not happening." Maskless said though it wasn't aggressive. This move wasn't a trade, it was an olive branch. An acknowledgement they trusted one another even after the shitshow.

Gray didn't understand the concept of life not being tit or tat. He'd rather barter now than feel he owed the duo something later on. He was also not too keen on expanding the camp by three people. It would draw untoward attention from the others, make you less safe.

"I doubt we'll have anything worth your time." He said, implying the idea of trading. He knew a human wouldn't like that word in regard to their autonomy.

"We're not trading." Maskless said with an annoying lack of tact. "Think of this as a favor." He moved to the center of the room where a fire pit better than anything he could build waited.

Gray eyed you. Were they really going to give you up? Just like that? When he and/or Omni could double-cross them at any moment? What was the angle?

You hobbled to the fire, sat by it when you were close enough. Bad leg stretched in front of you with a grunt. Maskless had a growing fire and the rudimentary cookware set up by the time you were settled. Arms lifting out of the cloak, little bugs crawling up and down your forearms. You picked one off, killed it with a flick to the chest, and popped it out of its exoskeleton.

Gray watched on. Tried putting together the few puzzle pieces he had. The bruises. The bugs. The misery on your face. The story he put together in his head wasn't too far off from the truth, though it was missing some key points. Leaving him to calculate risk versus reward. Give up his healing accelerant and get... Nothing. You could aid in his survival with a healed leg, yet you were a crutch yourself, especially when you could not give him children. But despite this, when he saw you it had his immediate thought, to heal your wounds and any burden that would come. But there was no need, you were already giving him food and according to Maskless it was for no trade. He didn't need to barter when provided with everything he needed for survival- bet he still wanted you better. Seeing you hurt, the way your eyes were hollowed out- it shifted something solid within him. Perhaps this was what father described feeling for mother. Caring? Affection?

Maybe he didn't need to get something out of helping you- when helping you was fulfilling enough. Was this...

Gray's stomach growled. Thankfully, you didn't look at him in his embarrassment. You went on, picking bugs off your skin, killing them, and shucking them as the water Maskless brought in the basin started to boil.

Maskless had explained the plan on the way over, though you weren't listening. Feed those two and they'd have two more allies who weren't about to die. By no means did he want to have more buddies or to share his newfound food, but the tortured screams during the night had shook him. He was terrified Lensless and Scars would come for him next. Make him scream while everybody listened and nobody helped. It was better to have people to throw at them first. People who were strong enough to not immediately die so he could get away. Live on for William, for the world lost to his father.

Gray would parse his intentions out later, but in the moment he was focused on you, his mind made up. His heart fluttered as he knelt down, pulling a vial out of his pocket that meant more to him than you could know.

Especially when his voice came out as flat as usual, "Here."

You vaguely remembered him showing them off on one of the first nights. You didn't take it, not quite remembering what it was. Cologne? Plasma from a spine? No, that didn't sound right.

"For your leg." His flat words make you remember. Wound something or other.

You snatched it out of his waiting fingers. He relished the moment of contact but his face gave nothing away. You snapped the top off and threw your head back. His hand is back on the vial, over yours.

"No." He says sharp. Maskless and Tracksuit tense. Not quite willing to fight for you but not quite willing to give up a bargaining chip either. "You have to directly apply it to the skin."

Your hand fell, your companion's shoulders relaxed. Imagination running wild with what would've happen if you drank the stuff. "You're only telling me this now?"

"An oversight."

Tracksuit laughed to himself, "Oversight. Who the fuck says oversight?" He went ignored.

You started to bend forward to undo the tight cloth wrapping only to cringe. A pulse of pain shooting up your leg. "Shit."

Gray didn't think, just moved. Propped up your leg with a rock he zipped away to find before you even noticed. Unwrapped it and laid the bandages and splint to the side. It was... Not good. Your skin was discolored up and down your shin with a noticeable lump in the middle where your bone had snapped. The only good thing was that the skin didn't break.

He held out his hand for the vile, "May I?"

You eyed him suspiciously. His intentions were always hard to read, he was short and acted without explaining. But you had no idea what you were doing in regards to self care beyond stitched up gut wounds. No choice in the matter, you returned the vial.

"I need to make an assessment first." He said, "This will hurt." Before you could protest, his hands were cupping your leg, pressing down gently but sending rockets of pain shooting through your body. You gasped, flinched back, jostled your leg and flinched again. Gray steadied you, voice neutral, "Don't hurt yourself."

You straighten your leg best you could and let him continue pressing, lifting, assessing the damage. The only sounds were the water hissing and fire crackling. It reminded you of the cave. Of Mark. Suddenly you are on the verge of tears, blinking them back.

"How do you know how to do this?" You make yourself say, voice calm but wavering. You needed to think of something else but every time you tried you saw Mark's face in the pale firelight. Then blackness, hearing echoes of his voice. His dying gasps.

Gray notices but doesn't pause. "Viltrumite and human biology are almost identical." He says, "The key differences are in our muscle tissue, much denser than a human's. Our brain tissue as well is denser, allowing for better senses, especially in battle."

"Doesn't make sense why so many of us are so stupid then." Tracksuit said, sitting feet away, idly watching. Ears perked for Omni's arrival. Wondering if he'd kick Gray's ass for weirdly massaging your leg.

Again he is ignored. "As part of the World Betterment Committee, we must be prepared for all sorts of resistance. Many worlds fought against our occupation. Many had no chance but some were clever. We are trained to assess physical damage and minimize the time needed for healing." He flipped the vial, spilled a few drops onto his hands and lathered them together. His hands came down, encompassed your leg best they could. You hissed, pained, but the liquid made his hands a cool relief in the sweltering heat.

"You really are one of them." Maskless said to himself- literally.

Gray didn't reply. Focused on rubbing the slick into your leg. "This is agent fourteen. It enters through the skin into the bloodstream. It targets damaged tissue throughout the body but is faster acting when applied to the-"

"How can you live with yourself?" Maskless said, a little louder this time.

You winced while trying to relax into his cool, gentle touch. His hands were calloused, movement rigid and precise. He was distracted by everything happening around him, the smell of soup wafting on the hot wind, making his stomach lurch and his mouth go dry, unable to salivate with the lack of water in his system. The feel of your skin under his own, the way your heart was beating erratically from the pain. But he didn't stop. "I'm almost finished."

Tracksuit snorted. Maskless snapped, "How could you turn your back on your own people like that?"

"Earthlings are not my people." Gray said coolly because clearly this man-child would not stop pestering him until he answered, "The Viltrumites are."

"Your mother is an 'Earthling.'" Spat like a slur.

"Yes, she's proud of her heritage, but recognizes that Earth was primitive compared to the empire. She has long since accepted what became of it."

Maskless's lip twitched. "And what became of it?"

He had to wait for a reply. Gray only truly cared for your comfort. "You should be able to put some weight on it in a few days. Though it may be a week or so until it's fully healed. It's the best I can do."

"I'm talking to you."

But Gray doesn't hear his poisoned words, focused on the way you mutter, "Thanks," under your breath and look away.

"You are welcome." Said more robotic than usual.

"Hey."

Ah yes, the other one was still speaking to him despite his disinterest. "Most of Earth's population had to be culled to quell any resistance." Despite this resistance was rampant on the colony. The human spirt was a strong, burning flame that'd never go out. Much like the Viltrumites, but they didn't have the strength to back it up. That's why he took you. You burned bright despite your circumstances and it helped he found you rather pleasing to the eye. "Last Father reported, the population had been growing." Gray didn't bother meeting Maskless's hard stare. Attention set upon your leg, now lightly glistening. "Earth's occupation was a success."

Your skin tingles as his touch leaves.

"A success?" Maskless fists ball and unball. Body undecided as his mind was ready for blood. Attack and quell some shred of vengeance. Don't and let that abomination with his face continue to exist. "You call killing thousands a success?"

"We killed millions." Gray corrected. "I don't see your point. You did the same thing working with Angstrom Levy." Gray rose, padding to a stockpile of potentially useful garbage. Looking for something clean enough to wrap your leg in.

Maskless's hand went to his chest, "So I could fix things."

"Millions had to die for the betterment of Earth. It's the same thing."

Maskless's body twitched. The idea of attack clear in his movement. Yet he made no move to hop over the fire and give Tracksuit the drama he craved. Gray waited for him to make a move, back to him, sifting through the materials, body relaxed purposefully. Almost a taunt. He wasn't worried. Which made Maskless want to kick his ass even more.

"I can't believe we're the same person." Maskless rose to his feet. Purposeful. Gray pulled out the longest stretch of dry canvas he could find in the pile- a faded white and green ad for some long dead company. He passed by Maskless, paying him no mind as he began to rewrap your leg. Purposeful.

"Neither can I." Gray's eyes left your leg to flick up and down Maskless' blood-crusted suit. Hoping he'd get the message, that he was a hypocrite- All that death, not for the greater good or the Empire, but for personal reasons. Pathetic. He fought for nothing. Unlike Gray, who finished wrapping your leg. Setting the splint firmly as you'd allow- fighting for something he didn't yet understand, and the Empire, of course.

Maskless stepped around the fire, stood before Gray. Fists twitching. Gray stood, body a shield in front of you. Maskless's gaze flicked to you- his apparent Achilles' heel. "If you don't care about us Earthlings, why do you care about her so much?"

"Keep me out of this." You grumbled.

Maskless went on, chest puffed, feeling emboldened with rage and memory. "Is she different because she was some sort of slave to you? Did you tie her down and force her to have your kids?"

The thought had occurred to him but mother insisted he try things the human way- after he kidnapped you. Despite his attempts, Viltrumite ideology rang true, "Viltrumites choose their mates. If the selected can not fight off their prospective mate, procreation occurs."

A collective cringe crossed your faces. You were thankful for Gray, for the balm, already feeling like the pain had ebbed. But the idea of you as some baby-birthing machine to an alien empire made you look at him differently.

He sensed the shift. "I did not do things the Viltrum way. I courted her." He said carefully. "Mother said humans like to have a choice." She hadn't had one, but you didn't need to know that. "My comrades looked down on me for it but I enjoyed our time together." Much as he'd allowed himself to with the perpetual stick up his ass. "It was a shame when she passed." He snapped her neck like one kills a sick pet rabbit. You were sick, too poisoned by the rebellion's ideologies. Ungrateful for the second chance. Yet he could never bring himself to return to Earth for another mate. Strangely burned on the inside, like something had been lost. He had enjoyed when you were more docile with fear. When you talked with him of inconsequential Earthly things. It was nice, but you were not. So that you had to die. This time he'd do things different. Even if you hated him for it, you would not die so long as he drew breath.

This you didn't need to be so scared. You should be afraid of him, yes, fear would keep you in line, but too much and you'd reject his advances again. Because he wanted to try again, to soothe the burn that ate away at his insides.

Gray thinks he's done well curbing your idea of him. He had, all save for that last part, said with too little care. Like you were a childhood pet, remembered fondly but inconsequential. Maskless opened his mouth to jab at him.

The barely secured floor shook as Omni landed. Suit torn at the knees and fingers. Cape shreds of what it used to be. He stepped into the tent, pulling his mask off his face, blinded by the switch to shade after hours in the bright desert. He was so tired. So frazzled. So grief stricken he didn't notice anything but your loss. "There's no sign of-"

His mask was freed from his sweaty face. Black lenses glinting sunlight. Tanlines softer on his face than you'd expect. Stubble a solid shadow on his jaw, though not as dark as the circles under his eyes. Light and honey-toned but flat with despair.

Until they land on the sliver of you visibly behind Maskless and Gray. They would've been toppled over if they hadn't moved. Quarrel put aside, for now as Omni barreled past them.

He stopped at your feet. Standing close but not touching. Scared you and the food were a mirage. "Is it really you?"

You looked awful. Tortured. Not as bad as he'd let himself hope late in the night- wishing he could see you one last time. Assuming that last time would be holding you dying again. If he ever got to see you, bones lost to the dunes.

"Yeah." You were not enthused by his presence. By any of their presence. You missed Mark, missed being held and kissed. Missed the cool cave but couldn't imagine going back.

"You.." He knelt, hovering over you a moment before lunging. Hugging you flush to his chest. Feeling your skin, your raggedy clothes, your breath and heartbeat against him. "You're really real." He at least avoided your leg, seeming to notice the splint. To be asked about later, but forgotten for now.

You could have shoved at him and he'd have let go. But you didn't. Even as Gray eyed Omni's back, as Maskless stared in mild disgust, as Tracksuit watched the others for their reactions. The contact felt like a missing puzzle piece. You had missed being held, arms like a vice keeping you together in this fucking wasteland.

"I thought you were..." He can't say it. Can't say it because then you'd dissolve in his arms.

You felt that. Deeply. Too deeply.

Your arms came up and held him back, hard as you could. Pressing your body to his like you were trying to become a single whole being. You needed to be held. Needed to be comforted. Hated it at the same time. Hated yourself for throwing yourself into it like a sad puppy. You wanted to scream and cry and puke just as much as you wanted to hold him until everything was better.

Omni pulled back, hands sliding up your sides and to your face, holding your cheeks. He sees it then. The bruises, dark and puffy where Mark had held your mouth shut, where he'd tied rags around your face for days. Your hands come up to push his off, wincing from the pain. Which only lets him see your wrists. The rubbed raw indents, just starting to scab over where the rebar had been for days.

He was absolutely murderous. "Who did this to you?"

Mark.

Mark was right in front of you. Mark was beside you. Mark was watching over the fire. Mark was happy without you in another dimension. Mark was dead. Everything was Mark's fault.

You hated that you couldn't stop the tears. The way his dark brows knit together and his lips fell when the tears came and didn't stop. He reached to wipe them away but it reminded you too much of Mark. You flinched back, covered your face with your hands.

"Eat." You managed. "We brought food."

Omni doesn't want to be away from you. Still partly terrified you'll vanish. He sat beside you, thigh grazing your own as Maskless reluctantly served them both bowls. You were aware they were eating. Talking. You were too busy trying not to lose your shit more than you already had. When the tears and sniveling were done for good, you removed your hands the best you could. Face stinging with shame as wet friction. Palms slobbery with snot. The fire only made your misery more apparent.

Omni had long since finished his bowl. Watched you quietly convulse. Wondering what happened to break you down like this. What stroke of luck brought you back to him. He held out his cape to you. You took it, wiping off your hands. Nodding a tight lipped thanks. He tried catching your eye but you looked away. To the desert and the gray sky.

Maskless told Gray and Omni some of what he knew. The cave, the bugs, how he found you. He left out the rebar around your wrists, the dead body. He hated talking to these assholes enough as it was, that part was yours to tell. But you didn't start talking, just looked into the sandy nothing while they stood around, dicks in hand.

"If there's anything else down there we don't know about, now's the time to tell us." Maskless tossed the ball in your court.

Only for it to bounce, once, twice, then roll to your feet. You hadn't been listening to him anyways. "The bugs. These are the last of them." You said. "Unless you can dig out the nest and save the queen larvae, but they're probably all dead. There's a mold farm too. I think you said it was also collapsed but maybe you can recover some spores from it." You knew what they wanted to hear but couldn't bring yourself to say.

Gray thinks those resources could be recovered but he cared more about, "The prisoner- that's his blood on you, correct?"

You don't say anything for a moment.

"The bugs will last us awhile. Don't make me eat him." An acknowledgment, but the most you were willing to do.

Omni's leg pressed more into yours. "He's gone then."

"I don't want to talk about this."

Tracksuit scoffed, drawing annoyed glances. "Oh, boohoo, your crazy desert boyfriend died. News flash, sweetheart, you've got like a bazillion boyfriends who aren't as crazy right here. So why don't you fess up n' tell Daddy what's wrong?" At Omni's expression, he quickly added, "Not countin' myself or my good man 'ere." He wasn't scared of Omni but he'd rather watch the drama unfold than be part of it. He wasn't good with other people's feelings, let alone his own.

"Did you see the body?" You asked, remembering in flashes. The dark, the blood stench, the sound.

He seemed oblivious to the shift in your tone, the way the others had stilled.

"Nah, but my boy here said it was nasty."

The response made you want to scream, to tear him apart. You turned on him then, hollow eyed, "I could do that to you. I'm stronger now."

You meant it. Wanted to do it. But you were scared of feeling another Mark's body heat dissipate beside you. You knew you wouldn't, but the threat felt good.

"Meeee-ouch! I thought we were friends but apparently not. Okay, cool, I get it. I'd hate me for being chill and normal too since you like 'em crazy." Clearly, Tracksuit wasn't taking you seriously.

You clicked your tongue a few times and tiny bugs began crawling up his legs. He batted a few off but some make it under his collar, crawled under his clothes while he shot up and danced around, trying to swat them all. "Call them off! Call them off!" Bugs were no big deal, they weren't even biting but he hated the little fuckers.

"We ate their queen and lived in her exoskeleton." You say, "They listen to me now. Do you know how many of them there are left?"

"I don't fucking care! Get these things off me!"

"I tried counting before. Lost my place after a thousand." Though there were way more than that and counting had been an exercise in boredom. You couldn't tell one bug apart from another. "I could make you tear yourself open and let them eat you. Think about that before you say rude shit about him again." A few clicks later and the remaining bugs crawled out through his sleeves and dropped to the sand where they burrowed before he could stomp the life out of them.

You regretted calling him crazy, regretted so much you had done. But you didn't regret your freedom, being in the sun, horribly hot as it was. You missed Mark so much your chest ached.

"Wasn't bein' rude." He shivered, still feeling the little legs on his skin.

"If she said you were being rude, you were being rude." Omni said but still, he needed to know, "We need to know what happened to you down there, we want to understand. What happened?"

Nothing. Everything. A lifetime in two weeks. You didn't want to talk about it, but you knew they were like dogs with a bone.

"He took me down there and I let him. Told me how he was going to fake the disappearance and everything."

"You assholes cut us out?" Tracksuit huffed.

"Would you have taken everybody?" You asked.

That stung. Tracksuit thought you were cool before but... you were sort of traumatized now more than you already were. He could almost give you a pass for being a massive bitch, and you were right. He probably wouldn't have taken you. "Should've never let you smoke my shit."

Omni eyed him quizzically but looked back to you when the story kept going. "Phantom found it first. Showed Mark and Mark showed me." Omni and Gray should've felt insulted you called that prisoner their shared name, but oddly they didn't. Omni knew you knew his name- Markus, though you hadn't said it again. Gray was content with your nickname specially picked for him. The dead man could have the title Mark.

"He was supposed to stay long enough to convince you all I was gone, then he was going to come back. Help us make a tunnel out that you wouldn't find so we wouldn't get cabin fever down there but-" You thought about the screaming in the night but remembered he's fucking Invincible. He should've been able to get away to tell someone else where you were. He'd had all the power in the world to help you and had done nothing. "-Man, wha'dya do when you got two ex-cons and want 'em to hate each other?" Looks of concern were shared but nobody said a word, "That's right! Leave 'em in a dark cave for two weeks until one of them..." The word stuck in your throat, you couldn't say that he killed himself. You'd made him do it.

Omni leaned in soft-browed, fingers hovering over your wrists, "He did that to you?" He was partly horrified Mark Grayson of any variation could torment you so. He had killed you sure, but it had been quick.

"No shit." He doesn't move back despite your venom, "I answered your questions. Answer mine. Where is that screaming asshole?"

Omni hesitated. Gray doesn't. "They're close enough to be a threat."

You leaned in, blood in the water. "Where?"

"If you're trying to get me to take you to him- it won't happen. He is constantly surveilled by those pests." Scars and Lensless in their yellow suits.

You felt the need for revenge pulsing in your scabs, under your bruises, in your heart. "Take me to them."

You cast the net too wide. Connect weakly with Maskless and Tracksuit, but Gray's mind is like a steel trap and Omni had always been difficult to control. Maskless and Tracksuit come for you, held off by the others a few moments until you control snapped back in your face like a bungee cord. Their expressions hard, daring you to try again.

Blood trailed down to your lip. "Fine. I can wait." Until you were stronger, strong enough to get a ride and kill all three of those assholes. A few days was all you needed.

You don't say it but they feel your intent. An uneasy undercurrent passed between them. You were weak, but controlled two of them at once. Being strong enough to survive this long wasn't a small thing. You were a real threat to yourself and to them.

"Don't do that again." Omni warned, though it was soft as he reached to wipe the blood dripping down your nose. "You don't know what you'd be getting into. Those two are a problem but don't push yourself for revenge. It's not healthy." Said the psychosexual, emotionally-incestious-daddy-issue-having freak.

You let him touch you. Smear the hot blood away. Fractionally leaning into his touch. Missing Mark. But knowing, "I can wait."

"Whatever." Tracksuit's feet left the floor. Head shaking off the cloud you'd laid over his brain. "We did what we came to do. We're gonna head out if you're all powered down."

You had some dregs left. You don't tell him that. Thinking it'd be good to always keep a little power in your back pocket. It was safer that way. "I am."

He turned to Maskless, "Cool. You carry her this time."

Light early-life wrinkles the rest didn't have deepened on Omni's brow. He opened his mouth.

"You haven't shown us the cave with water." Gray said first.

"Fine. We'll show you, then we leave." Tracksuit jutted his head toward you, Maskless approached but Omni was in front of him.

"I can carry her." He said.

Maskless narrowed his eyes. "How do we know you won't just take her?" He didn't care about you, not at all, but he recognized you were the glue keeping things together before. Best case scenario, the others would flock to you, kill each other to get in your pants and he'd have more meat. Worst case scenario, you could be traded for his own life.

"How do I know you won't take her away and never let me see her again?" Omni retorted.

You weren't waiting for them to hash this out, "I'm not going down there." You said.

Tracksuit crossed his arms, little more than tiffed with you and your emotional outbursts. He'd been baking in a desert, starving and thirsty while you were cool and fed, and probably getting dicked down.

"Oh yeah? Whadd'ya gon do to stop us?" He was above ground, where the bugs couldn't get to him.

You should save the power but the rage boils out, unexpected and deeply hateful, "Hit yourself."

Tracksuit's fist came up against his will. Reeled back to the shoulder blade before springing forward, cracking against his jaw. Not as hard as Mohawk, but hard enough to send his flight off balance. You caught a look at his face before his mask fluttered down, lip smearing blood cross his teeth.

He doesn't attack as he stabilizes himself. Omni was in front of you like a Viltrumite-human shield. So he spat out a wad on blood onto the corrugated floor, "Touchy, but I'll admit you got me there."

"I'll do worse if any of you think about taking me back down there." You said, weak and weary, "You all go. I'll wait here."

"No." Gray and Tracksuit.

"'S just asking for those other guys to snatch you up then boom! There goes the food-lady." Tracksuit alone this time. "One'a you assholes stay with 'er."

"I will," Gray said before Omni could. Omni wanted to protest, but he needed the building trust between him and Gray to stay. Gray had been the only one Omni semi-tolerated in the caves. The only reliable ally he had. So he'd allow it, remembering he'd get his turn alone with you in time.

"Not alone," Maskless added. "You stay too."

Tracksuit spluttered. "What- No way, man!"

"You got lost on the way here." Maskless deadpanned.

"Only a little!"

"Fifteen miles give or take."

Tracksuit didn't argue that.

And so it was.

Maskless led Omni into the dusking desert, leaving you, Gray, and a pissed off Tracksuit alone. Leg tingling with numbness.

"Hey," Tracksuit was first to talk in the minutes of long quiet. You sat by the fire, the same way you had in the cave before things got bad. Gray stood by the edge of camp, hovering an inch over the sand, straight postured with hands behind back like always. "You're not gonna kidnap her if I take a s-"

Gray held up his hand. "There's nowhere for us to go. This alliance is worth too much to put at risk anyway."

"Cool, cool. Uhm, others shouldn't be back for a bit if they-" He doubled over clutching his stomach, "come back before me tell them to suck it." Tracksuit was gone in a flash. Too much food after a period of starvation making his stomach a roiling mess.

You were alone.

Two days after your... after Mark died. Aching stupidly on the inside, the dark of the desert whispered memories you tried to drown out. Trying to turn your thoughts to Phantom. Where he and the others were, if he was truly suffering or not. If Phantom was already dead, if you'd get revenge or not.

"Where are the others?" You ask.

"In the cave that you-"

"The other others."

"Ah." He's quiet a moment. Deciding weather or not to tell. You didn't exactly need to know. But it wasn't like you could fly or walk.

"Gray." You turned on him, find his expressionless mask cracked by a single word. "Where are they exactly? I need to know."

He knew that look. Saw it on his mother all the time. When father was following Viltrum's customs a little too closely. You'd given him the same look, the other you, when you told him how you hated him even though he brought you to a utopia. Emotional determination that perplexed him so. Father would give into mother, but he never gave in then. He should now to win you over- but you had powers. You cried in front of him and clearly hated it- you were unstable, unreliable. You had plans in mind, ones that'd get you killed.

"You can not make me tell you where they just like you couldn't make me take you. You are powerless."

Stubborn insistence, you knew better. He tried to stay impartial, but he cared about you like the others. He just needed a push and you needed to forget.

"I controlled that asshole." You scooted toward him on your ass, using your good leg as leverage. "You don't know how much shit I got stored up."

He watched you, confused as to why you were trying to pick a fight with him on the floor. "If I were to attack, you're making it much easier for me."

"You won't." You grunted with effort, pulling the last few inches you needed to be by his feet. Sat splayed by his legs like a good dog, looking up at him from under your lashes. "You're right, though, I probably couldn't control you, not for long anyway."

His gaze hardened, understanding you had ulterior motives, "Don't make me restrain you."

"I'm not doing anything." You said as your hand moved to his leg. Feeling up his calf that tensed at your touch.

You knew Gray wanted you. Knew he was some repressed alien freak. People who say 'courting' have never came in their entire fucking life. These over-protective assholes wouldn't give you what you needed, not like this. But if you leaned into their underlying carnal desires- they'd be putty in your hands. Revenge would be yours for the taking.

And Mark. You could hold Mark again. Not your Mark but a Mark and for now, that was enough.

"What are you doing?" Gray watched you feel up and down his calf.

Your hands traveled further up. Over the knee to his strong thighs that unwillingly flexed at your approach. He didn't move away. "Just admiring the view."

Viltrumites didn't do such things. He'd walked in on his mother and father, sure, but not in the light touches of pre-sex, pre-foreplay. He didn't see the bait you were holding.

"You need to touch me to do so?" Your fingers were feather-light. Tracing then cupping much of him as you could in your palm. It sent tingles down his back, electrical shocks to his abdomen. Made something within him that had been in a lifelong slumber, open its eyes.

"Gotta get the full picture." You lifted onto your good knee. Leg numb but scared you'd hurt it. Hands splaying the expanse of his legs, up the to creases his hips not hidden by his stupid skirt. You press your thumbs in and he shuddered. You saw it, how the usual lump in his skirt was a little larger than you remembered. Easy, just like Mark had been. A distraction from your situation, just like Mark had been.

Your touch moved up, to his lower belly. Up the muscles, tightly packed in white clothes. "Very nice."

You weren't just buttering him up. The man was drool worthy. Part of your plans, yes, but a distraction you desperately needed.

He watched you, expressionless, gaze intense. You think he's going to crack. So you snatch his forearms and use them to pull yourself up. He gets the memo, ends up pulling you up himself, feet coming to the ground. "You shouldn't be on your feet for long." He said as you leaned in. Pressed your chest to his, arms going around his shapely waist, hands skimming across his broad back, head crooked in his shoulder despite the height difference because he was so much (taller/shorter) than you. His arms refolded behind his back. Heart hammering oddly in his chest as blood rushed low in his body. He knew what was happening but feeling it was another story. Territory he had never crossed into with the old you, too afraid to touch him in any capacity.

"I won't be." You grabbed the hammer and swung it down- pulling his stupid collar to the side and kissing his neck.

He tensed. Crack. You kissed lower. Crack. He white-knuckled gripped his elbows. Crack. You trailed kiss, kiss, kiss, until you reached the nape of his neck where you sucked. He let out a nearly inaudible sigh. Crack.

Gray knew he should make you stop this nonsense. But when you lathed your tongue up the side of his throat, groaning into his never-before-worshiped skin, his resolve disappeared. He wouldn't stop you, but he wasn't stupid. "He will return soon." Your husband. Technically not, but still he claimed the title. Humans took that title very seriously. Except you.

You kissed his jaw, felt him swallow. Pulled back and looked at his embarrassingly flushed face and apparent hard-on. "I won't need much time."

"Time for what?" He knew what you meant but... why? Why him? Why now? Usually he could think, figure you out but his mind was a haze tunneled on you. The questions quieted when you pressed your lips to his. Chapped and rough. The pressure was pleasant.

You pulled back, ending the feeling too quickly. "You gonna just stand there the whole time?"

He tilted his head. Wracking his brain. He'd never been kissed like this before, his mother had pressed them to his forehead and cheeks when he was young. He had seen mother and father kiss quick morning pecks, but that was no tutorial or training with his mentor.

You breathily laughed at his expression. "What? Big bad alien boy doesn't know how?"

"There is no use for mashing lips together on Viltrum." He wanted his voice to be even but it warbled. Palms sweaty behind his back.

Your hand came to his neck, pressing gently, "Tilt your head like this." He did and went too far, you had to adjust him again. "Good, and I'll come in like this. Just follow my lead, okay?"

He mirrored your parting lips. Was robo-stiff in the kiss while you moved, lips, jaw, and all. Teeth came down on his lip and made his hands slip behind his back and his cock throb in his uniform. When you slipped your tongue past his defenses, he had to reinforce his knees as not to fall. You did all the work while he let it happen. Trying to take mental notes, trying to commit the moment to moment while living in it. So unreal, so good.

When you pulled back, his lips followed yours. Pressing tentative kisses to your buzzing mouth. You chuckled, grinding your tongue against his just to hear his soft whimper. Then you left him, red faced and wanting, looking absolutely fucked-out from a little light kissing. "You've got a lot to learn."

"Activities like this were not part of my training regimen." Gray was unsubtly looking at your lips. Hands hovering, wanting to take your sides and press you to him but he didn't know if that was the right thing to do. He wanted you, but wanted it to be good, worthwhile the way you'd made it for him.

You laugh. "That's fine, you're a fast learner."

Which was true. Heat pulsed hard between your legs. You'd like to take him to the floor. Like to teach him a lot more, but you didn't have time to teach him to get your rocks off. You knew however, you had more than enough time to take care of his straining hard-on which had been delightfully pressing to your thighs. He had twitched, but hadn't dare truly hump your leg.

Your hands go from his sides, down the hard planes of his chest, over the needy bulge. He gasped, shuddered into your hand. "What are you-"

"I think it's pretty obvious." You ran your hand slowly up and down. Watching his face tic and contort. "Do you want me to stop?"

Gray's throat twinged as he tried to find breath, find words as you squeezed him ever so gently. "Don't." He just barely managed to sound composed.

You grinned, touch leaving him a moment to move his skirt to the side. Without the gray fabric, you got a better idea of how pleased he was with his current predicament. Dick straining against the alien white cloth. "I've barely done anything to you, and you're this hard." Your teasing touch returns and his eyes go misty. "Are you sure you're the same guy who conquers planets?"

"Yes." He replied stiffly.

"I'm having a hard time believing that."

"I was a part of three large scale invasions and countless solo scouting excursions-" You palmed at him harder now. Every tense of your fragile human fingers had the composed solider gasping and twitching.

"Wow, great dirty talk." You smiled as you sank to your knees. You paused, pulling hard at his pants that didn't seem to have an obvious fly. "How do you open this thing?"

He slid his thumb into an invisible seam beside his crotch but paused, "The others..."

"Trust me, you'll be done before I even get started."

Still, Gray scanned the horizon. Nobody. Plus, you were... humiliatingly right. He'd never cum before but knew of the function. Knew his heart was hammering, his lower belly coiled tight, cock aching were all signs of what was to come. It'd be better to take care of his problem before anyone saw anyway. He pulled the fabric apart, held together by an invisible magnetic strip.

His cock sprang free in front of your waiting face. Thick and defined as the rest of him. Precum wept out the tip. Slippery and shiny on your hand as you brought it down, from tip to base. Gray had to actively prevent himself from thrusting into your palm as not to hurt you. He watched you, lips parted, gaze burning as you admired him. Jerking him off slow.

"We," his chest heaved, fingers twitching, feeling pleasure he never had, "we don't have much time."

You hummed, pressing a kiss to the side of his cockhead. Eyes looking up at him as your lips slowly captured him. Tongue lathing unhurried over the sensitive skin. Your jerked him off lazily from the thick base. Pushing and pulling his skin back but never enough to fully expose the flash of pink you saw. Not yet. You had to build him up. Make the chance for another blowjob like this worth risking his life.

So you jerked him off, pushing more of your head down his cock. Bobbing lazily, eyes always locked on his. Moaning at the stretch of your lips around him. So big it was hard to swirl your tongue around anything but the bottom of him. Veins pulsing on your tongue. Tasting of salt and sweat.

Gray doesn't know what to say. Can't speak at all. All he can do is try to repress the moans that escape him, foreign as they sounded on his lips. Your mouth was wet, and warm, and so inviting. Lips good on his but so much better on his dick. Looking up at him like you needed this, not the other way around.

His cockhead started to stretch the back of your mouth, soon to hit your throat. You moaned. Feeling a phantom of him in your cunt. Not really there but the thought of him inside you drove your head up, down, up, down until the only thing separating you from his pubic bone was your own hand. Which migrated to his thighs, trying to pull him closer, deeper, to fuck your throat. Fuck the pain away.

"Too-" He gasped, feeling your throat open up around him, feeling your lips press to his hips. Throat tight and vibrating with your moans, "Too much-"

You should finish him off. The others could be back soon. You pulled your head back, feeling the regrettable loss of his girth from your mouth. His cock glistened with spit and a wishing well's worth of precum. It was too easy to grab his dick and pull the skin back, expose the lickable pink of his unsheethed head.

Your open mouth came down, tongue teasing along the bottom when Gray gutterly groaned. Shooting cum onto your waiting tongue. You paused. You were expecting him to not last long but wow. You hadn't even really gotten going.

His chest rocked. Never before had someone, even an enemy or his mentor, left him so red and breathless. Then there was the feeling of cumming, so foreign, but like a straight shot of adrenaline after a hard battle. But there had been no battle. Only you and your flushed face and cum coated tongue that slipped back into your mouth. Throat bobbing before your lips reopened. His fluids gone down your tight throat.

If he hadn't gone soft, he'd cum again.

He could stare at you like this all night long. Wanted to return the favor, though he had no idea how.

Except you rocked back, patting his thigh, "Clean yourself up, think I see company."

He was back in his pants. You were back sat by the fire with him yards away. You looked back at him, lips buzzing, tongue tasing of him, a smile that left him dizzy as you said, "Hey, I'm not doing that again unless those assholes are dead."

You little...

"I'll-" He swallowed, watching the figures grow closer but still out of earshot. "I'll confer with your husband."

You didn't have the energy to be annoyed by the title.

***

He never thought those assholes would leave. Always lurking in the fucked up castle they built. Always indulging in the freshest meat the desert could offer. They had to go out a search for you sometime. Through the madness, it was apparent that they'd lost hope. Looking was just a part of their schedule now. They expected nothing.

Mohawk slipped inside the ruins. Knew what turns to take, he'd done this before. He'd been watching them for days. Stealing food from under their noses.

He's where they left him just... missing another piece. The first time Mohawk saw him, it was his broken forearm. Then it was his calf. Now, they'd taken the rest of the leg nearly up to the hip. Yet he still breathed, shallow in his unconscious stupor. Wounds wrapped tight in bloody cloth.

He recalls your voice, missing it so much it hurt. You called him, the pathetic, plotting motherfucker- Phantom.

So he said it now, hoping the name would goad him into the world of the living. "Phantom."

His head stayed dropped, chin to chest. Unmasked and sunburned. Scalp scabbed and stubbly from where they'd sheered off his hair with that knife that used to be yours. At first, they kept him masked, seeing their own face tortured was too weird, but the hair got in the way of remasking and the longer you stayed missing, the more they wanted him to hurt. They let his skin blister and peel. Broke his bones unhurried before tearing off the limbs and eating them raw. Mohawk had too grown used to the feel of wet, raw meat slipping down his throat. Had almost come to savor the taste, but never as much as those two.

"Phantom." A little louder this time. Mohawk wasn't afraid of Lensless and Scars per se, but they could be back anytime. Give up leaving any day, eat Phantom whole and let their fragile brains collapse even further into ruin. "Hey."

Phantom's head bobbed. "Whhaaa?" Mohawk was in front of him, holding him hard by the chin, forcing him to look up with those disgustingly blue eyes. Cloudy with hardly held on lucidity.

"Where is she, shithead?"

Phantom hadn't told Scars or Lensless where you were despite the torture, so there was no way in hell he'd tell Mohawk. Would rather go to the grave then let them find you. But he wasn't planning on it. He told himself he'd escape sooner or later. He'd get back to you. Take care of Baldie. Be with you the way he had planned. Delusionally sure since they made the first cut.

Phantom smiled before his body slumped. Unconscious again. Dying.

"Hey." Mohawk shook him. "Hey!"

The building shuddered as one of them touched down, then the other. "Did you hear that?" Lensless. Home earlier than usual.

"No."

"I swore I heard something. Do'ya think he got loose?"

Boots crunched glass and gravel as they made their way through the winding halls. Mohawk looked to Phantom, still unconscious, useless. Mentally promising to be back, to get answers, and if he didn't? He'd kill the fucker himself.

Mohawk slipped out the busted window, flying low and thanking Art for his suit that melted into the night.

206 notes · View notes

kawhh · 3 months ago

Text

It's once again time for another spiral. Once again going off the rails. Losing my mind a touch.

Jack Hughes x Reader x Quinn Hughes

I'll be honest, @sweetestdesire made this worse.

3.3k words.

Warnings: Okay hear me out. This probably makes no sense. I ramble, I'm out of practice. It's long and it goes through the stages of them losing their minds on their own. The obssession corruption. Leading to them being together with you. Also not proof read. Face slapping, whore use, being made to feel like a sex doll, non-con sorta, biting, bruising, more slapping, double slapping, saliva in mouth, heavy saliva in mouth. Gagging you with fingers. Bitch use. Heavy degrading themes. Mentions of how scary they can be. Pain fucking mention. Them not caring about your feelings. No checking in on you. Breath play. Big primal/prey. Grinding against you inside your underwear. That's probably mostly it.

It's rare to have both of your men in the same place, their hockey schedules mostly keeping them away from you. You have the off season, but they're still often elsewhere or working out.

They keep themselves fairly well behaved alone with you, never really having the means to fully let loose with you. Their visits are short, they don't have restraints. They have no time to plan, not even having enough time to fully push you.

You can always see the urge in their eyes, the feral look in their eyes when they fuck you, forcing you to make eye contact with them from the first thrust into your cunt.

It's like they're collared, a glint of something dangerous and obsessive flashing across their eyes when you squeak. When you moan, when you cry out for them.

The way they bury their heads against your neck, their breathing rapid and hot against your flesh. Their teeth always rest against your neck, giving you enough pressure to make you panic, to make you squirm, to make the prey alarms scream in your head.

They never push you further, but it's like they swap notes. They're brothers, but there's something so organised about how they deal with you. It's like they fully pass you over to whoever's free. Their intensity is the same. The look in their eyes is the same. The power and dominance behind their every action is exactly identical.

It's almost scary sometimes, how intense they are. You're used to the prey mental alarms but sometimes they push you further. Their eyes sharpening as they glare at you, the harshness stopping you in your tracks if you complain.

Their thrusts punishing to match, fucking you deep enough to cause you just a slight twinge of pain until you stop. It's like it soothes them, having that control over you. Their thrusts gentler when you don't complain. When you behave for them. When you fully let them take care of you, let them take care of themselves, drunk on you.

The tears that escape your eyes cooling them off, dimming that the look that follows their struggling self control. You're not sure who's taming who - are you taming them by making them relax into the feeling of your cunt clenching around them, taking what you deserve, or are they taming you? Teaching you to behave, to never complain.

If you're determined to be a fucking brat, they're reaching for your chin, a grip on your face just hard enough to be threatening, resting their palm on your cheek. They don't hit, they don't slap, they just rest it there. Their thrusts slow and deep, almost like they're giving you back the mental capacity to take in the threat.

There's no escape from their punishment either. They just swap off. If you've been more of a brat with one of them, you won't get a second of gentle treatment when they have to rotate. It only ever confirms the theory about them sending notes, no doubts about them having a text chat devoted to you.

You react strongly to something one of them does? The other now just knows about it. Every pet name, every touch of your skin, every tongue movement inside of your cunt, every perfect angle of their cock against your walls.

It's concerning how it's only getting worse with them, like they're testing both their limits and yours.

Their teeth dig into you further, they start leaving marks on your skin from the pressure. Harsh enough to last until the other brother can spend time with you, when he'll just double down on the marks, digging his teeth into the same exact spot. Lapping at your skin if you whine like he's soothing you but with no intention of giving you a break.

It's forced you to wear more conservative clothing - the angry purple and red blotches standing out against the rest of your skin, enough to make someone question you if they see them. They can't help that they can get a little.. over enthusiastic. The marks trailing further down your skin, not being able to limit themselves to a bite.

They used to start slow with you, used to spend most of their precious time with you making sure you cum over and over again. Their thrusts slower and focused. They used to need to make sure you were properly prepped for them.

Now? You're lucky if a single one of their touches is gentle. They aren't even waiting for a reason to punish you often now. It's almost like a game to them, like they're competing to make you crumble. There's no softness to them, their eyes being devoured by that once small feral look.

They don't seem to care if you're wet, too focused on needing to be inside you. Even that doesn't calm them down now though, it only seems to fuel their need to break you. They're constantly hungry for you. They don't stop when they cum. Even if it's overflowing out of you, dripping down the sides of their cock. They just keep thrusting, burying themselves in you if they need a break, if the exhaustion gets to be too much.

They don't check in with you, even when you pass out from the overstimulation. They don't care about you crying, don't care if you're thumping your fists against them as a warning, pleading with them to just stop.

Your words are broken, your throat feels like sandpaper. Every single night with them. It hurts to protest. It hurts to moan, hurts to whimper. Your only way of stopping them hurts and lands you in more trouble.

If you try and control yourself, if you try and hold back the painful noises, they're just increasingly their level of brutality against your cunt. They won't have you being quiet. They need you to show your appreciation for them, for how they're fucking you.

The way they used to just rest their palm against your face is escalating. Nothing is safe. The most you had from them in the way of a reaction was a brief wave of hesitance before their hand made contact with more force.

The slow wind up, pulling their hand back. The sharp slap sound piercing the air, shattering their resistance to the idea. Their cock throbbing at the contact, marveling at the red mark on your face, the imprint on your skin.

It's another ownership mark. Another way to punish you. Another way to silence your cries. The pathetic, glassy eyed expression on your face at the contact.

The panic starts to creep in when the circled date on your calendar gets closer. The day you're all together. After months and months of their behaviours spiraling, they'll be in the same space as you. They won't have to text eachother. There's no wait time to work together.

You'd be lucky if they even said a word to you, you're whimpering the second there's a knock at the door.

The sharp, loud knocks sounding like gunfire. They're impatient. Walking to the door feels like a death sentence, but a death sentence that sends a shiver of arousal down you. You half hate how in love with them you are. How everything they do still turns you on, even with them losing their sanity.

Every harsh word spit at you, every bite, every savage thrust. It's an addiction for you as much as it is for them. There's a reason why you circled the date. A reason why you've been struggling to sleep for the past week, so consumed with the thoughts of what they might do.

They're so fucking intimidating leaning against the door frame as you open the door for them, they're not making any fast attempt to come in even after their frantic knocking. It's clear to you that they were doing it on purpose, knowing the fear you'd feel.

It's infuriating how casual they look, how they crowd the door. The way their eyes drag down your body, darkening with every inch they pass.

You're frozen in front of them, your limbs don't feel like they work. You're too nervous to speak, to do anything to spark them. They're like lions trapped in a cage, you're just slightly too far away for them to bite. You can imagine the saliva pooling in their mouth. The urge to snap forward and claim you is clearly a problem. Their knuckles pale with how hard they're gripping the door frame.

You can't help the squeak that escapes when they fake lunge towards you. You can see how Jack tries to hold back his laugh as you almost trip backwards in fright when he moves his leg, the way you lean back when he loosens the reigns of his self control, keeping his sanity by clinging onto the door frame with every inch of strength in him.

You can see how hard it is, how he grits his teeth after the initial burst of amusement. It's harder for him to hold himself back compared to Quinn. He's quicker to bite, quicker to punish. He doesn't have the patience, doesn't want the patience.

You can see the minute he's had enough of this stand-off, he eyes focused on the exposed inch of your tits. Your shirt disheveled from your scare, dipping slightly to show the soft lace cradling your flesh.

He's almost racing towards you, closing the gap before you can blink. His arms feel like iron bars around you when he slides around you, pulling you backwards into his chest.

They're locked around you, he's not holding any of his strength back. You're trapped against him and he has no intention of letting you leave. He's not the only one here to touch you now. He doesn't need free hands. Inhaling deeply against your neck, staring at Quinn over your shoulder.

"How's our little bitch doing? You look nervous."

His taunting voice so close to your ear is terrifying, the end to the silence marking your doom.

He's reaching one of his hands up to your face, gripping you tightly, forcing your head up to stare at Quinn. Shaking your head slightly like he's proving how in control of you he is.

You feel powerless against him, you can't even fight back against this. You can't get out of his arms, you can't fight the grip on your face. You're not even control of your own vision, he won't let you look away.

If he sees your eyes drift, he's nipping at your neck. A warning bite compared to his usual behaviour. You're like an animal. A pet.

"You think he's gonna fuck you, baby? Do you deserve it?"

You don't dare respond. He's baiting you into it, but you know how far things can escalate if you go with it. If you fall for the trap.

It won't matter much. Quinn's already moving towards you, his eyes focused over your shoulder, back at Jack. They're plotting. You can tell they're plotting. They've probably been fucking plotting since before they got here.

Jack's shoving your back slightly, following as you stumble forward, crashing into Quinn. He's looping his arms around your front, sandwiching you inbetween them. You can feel what seems like every muscle in their body, every inch of their cocks digging into you. It's oppressive.

You're squeezed between them, feeling Jack against your ass, Quinn against your cunt. They've hiked you up their bodies just enough to make it worse. Your feet don't touch the ground, it's harder for you to breathe with how close they are, how they're restricting your movement.

It's such an easy show of strength and possession for them, they don't break a sweat, slowly grinding against you. The look of fear they're so familiar with on your face makes them throb. It's almost like they're in sync, their practice with you 1 on 1 helping them out.

They know how much being their whore turns you on. They feel no guilt for how they've devolved. No guilt for the marks on your skin.

"Want the bed, angel? Getting tired? You're that fucking exhausted already? You're trembling. We've barely touched you."

You're not getting the bed. You know you're not. They aren't going to let you free for even a second. There's a gleam in Quinn's eyes. They know you know.

They're tugging and pushing you inbetween them like you're a toy. You've never felt so small in your life, it's so much worse than the usual behaviour between you.

One of them you can deal with, they have to be focused on you. They can't restrain you like this, they can't make eachother spiral. Both of them is killing you, you're so tense. You feel like you're one breath away from being fucked to death.

"You want our cocks, angel? Your slutty fucking cunt needs us, huh? Think you can beg? I don't think you deserve it."

You're embarrassed at the pulse that races through you when Quinn reaches up to cup your face, walking forwards against you, forcing you and Jack back until you hear him crashing into the wall behind you. You can hear his slight grunt of frustration at his brother's actions, he's being slightly squished against the wall, but you're being forced against his cock harder so he can deal.

The harsh slap against your face is unexpected. He was finally being gentle. The sting sticks around, your skin throbbing with heat. He doesn't even give you a pause. His hand swinging over and over again, your head being forced side to side.

The tears from the harsh treatment only make him smirk.

You don't even notice Jack's hand creeping up your neck, joining Quinn's hand. You can't help the moan when they attack you together, you can feel your body shaking between them. You don't know where to look, what to feel, what to do.

The double assault hurts more than anything they've done before, the automatic flinches forcing you further into the other's attack. Your skin feels like it might bruise, you've never been so glad that they don't wear rings. You hate how they barely react. You hate how you're soaking through your underwear.

"Look what you're making us do, angel. You know what you should've done. Should've been bent over waiting for us. Took so fucking long to even answer the door. Are you really that dumb, baby?"

He makes you nervous when he talks. He's almost more unpredictable. Quinn still hasn't said a word, he's in control. He uses his body to force you into situations. Jack's the instigator. The one to rile you up. The one to make you feel more pathetic with his words.

The panic spikes when the slaps stop, the confusion growing on your face as they keep their hands on you, feeling Quinn's fingers slipping further towards your mouth, crying as he forces them into your mouth, slowly digging them into the sides of your mouth, stretching you open.

He looks at you like you're beneath him, watching as the saliva in your mouth drips down your chin, watches as you struggle to swallow. He can see how hard your throat is struggling.

You're so focused on his treatment of your mouth, you don't hear Jack spitting against his own fingers. You didn't even realise he'd removed them from your face, gagging as he's suddenly forcing his spit covered fingers back towards your throat.

Your feet still can't touch the ground, you're suspended, you can barely breathe, you're gagging against his fingers, feeling how he's spreading the spit around your mouth. Coating your tongue, forcing you to gag over and over again. You're only making your own saliva problem worse, the mess of spit on your face ever increasing.

They're bullying you inbetween them. You can see Quinn trying to produce as much saliva as he possibly can, swishing it around in his mouth. Panicking and squirming as hard as you can when he leans forward, tilting your head back, hovering his face over your stretched out mouth.

You can't stop him from slowly parting his lips, watching as the saliva starts to escape his mouth, falling directly into yours. You feel like you're drowning. His spit combined with Jack's own actions is fucking overwhelming. It feels like it's pouring down your throat. Jack making you gag makes it worse, you can't swallow. It's just filling your mouth.

He's forcing your mouth closed after he's done. Yanking Jack's fingers out of your mouth. He's had enough of it. You've shown how pathetic you are. He needs to feel your cunt.

They're yanking your clothes down your body before you can swallow the spit, ripping the button off your jeans in their haste. Tugging them down your skin. You're confused when they stop at your jeans. You don't understand their plan. You can feel the pre-cum leaking through their own jeans, why aren't they...?

You get your answer fast. Their fingers digging into your underwear. Jack pulling them away from your ass, Quinn pulling them away from your cunt. You're surprised they aren't ripping the material with how they're pawing at you, how harsh their tugs are.

Dread fills you when you realise they have no intention of fucking you now. They both know they have a few days with you. There's no rush. There's no deadline. You're theirs for at least 48 hours.

Whimpering while they unzip, facing the realisation head on. Your cunt feels like it's in pain. The throbbing is so intense you might lose your mind. You're clenching around nothing. The tugging of your underwear occasionally making it rub against your clit the only relief you have.

Their cocks feel like they're burning your skin when they slide them under the fabric. You can feel Jack's cock sliding against your ass, his hands forcing your cheeks to part enough for him to get more contact.

Quinn's cock harshly slapping your clit before he slowly starts his own grind against you, your suspended body giving him a good angle. He's pushing so hard against you, he's parting your lips. They're almost hugging his cock, only making him squish you harder.

You're crying at how unfair it is. You feel like you'll die. You're barely getting any relief and the relief you do get is accidental. They aren't even trying to get you off.

Their heads are buried against your neck fully. One on either side. Their heavy breathing makes you feel claustrophobic. Everything about this makes you feel worse. Being squished, the grinding, the breathing, their cocks.

They're losing themselves in you, their thrusts speeding up. Their cocks getting caught on your underwear with the speed.

You're like a broken toy between them. A sex doll. You're not in control of your body, it's theirs. You've never felt more owned by them. You're lost in the throbbing. You can feel every single pulse.

You feel dazed and floaty as you feel them reach their limit. They're pulling away from you by an inch or two, lining themselves up with your holes. You know they still won't fuck you.

Whining in resignation as you feel them cum against you. You can feel it hitting you, making a mess of you. It somehow makes you feel even more used, like you're just a rag they're cumming against. Your underwear is ruined. You can feel the mess slide down your legs. Clinging to your skin. There's so much cum. It'll ruin your jeans.

They'll use it as an excuse to fully strip you. You wouldn't be surprised if they make you stay naked 24/7 while they have you. They won't see the point in letting you get dressed. They know what it'll do to you, how bad it'll make you feel. How much it'll turn you on.

They'll keep you suspended between them for a while. There's no rush.

#quinn hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagines #quinn hughes smut #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fanfiction #jack hughes x you #quinn hughes x you #dark jack #dark quinn

346 notes · View notes

0-n-1-x · 10 months ago

Note

Hey hey hey! I just read your Damian x photographer reader post (love btw) and instantly became infatuated with the idea of Reader who takes pictures of Gotham vigilantes for the news. Kinda like Peter Parker taking pictures of Spider-Man? (Not a 1 to 1 comparison but you get where it coming from) Basically they’re close with Damian but they don’t know Damian’s Robin. Cue secret identity shenanigans!

Damian Wayne x Hero Photographer!reader

link to my masterlist <33

As a talented photographer, you’ve made a name for yourself by capturing the best shots of Gotham’s vigilantes in action. Your photos of Batman, Robin, and the rest of the Bat-Family often end up on the front pages of Gotham’s newspapers, earning you both praise and a bit of notoriety in the city’s media circles. You and Damian have been friends for a while, bonding over your shared love of art and your similar work ethics. He admires your dedication to photography, though he’s secretly amused by the fact that you’re unknowingly photographing him in his Robin persona.

You and Damian have been friends for a while, bonding over your shared love of art and your similar work ethics. He admires your dedication to photography, though he’s secretly amused by the fact that you’re unknowingly photographing him in his Robin persona. Despite being so close to Damian, you have no idea that he’s actually Robin. He’s careful to keep his vigilante life separate from your friendship, though he occasionally drops hints that go right over your head.

There have been multiple instances where you’ve almost caught Damian in his Robin gear. Whether it’s seeing a flash of green and red out of the corner of your eye or noticing how familiar Robin’s fighting style seems, you start to get the feeling that there’s something more to Damian than meets the eye.

One day, you capture an exceptionally clear photo of Robin, and you can’t help but notice something oddly familiar about his eyes. You brush it off at first, but the thought nags at you. Damian, of course, is aware that you took the photo and goes out of his way to ensure you don’t connect the dots.

Whenever you talk to Damian about your latest photos, he can’t help but tease you a little. He’ll ask about your “favorite vigilante” or make subtle comments that hint at his dual identity. You laugh it off, thinking he’s just poking fun at your obsession with Gotham’s heroes. (i like to think that your favorite wouldn't be him, and he'd be slightly offended and try to explain why he's robin's better than his brothers other vigilantes)

There are times when Damian has to abruptly leave your hangouts to attend to Robin duties. He always comes up with an excuse—whether it’s a sudden family emergency or needing to take care of something important. You find it a bit odd but don’t press him on it, chalking it up to Damian’s sometimes mysterious nature.

One night, while you’re out trying to get some action shots of the infamous Gotham Vigilante Group, you get caught in the middle of a dangerous situation.

As you leaned over the ledge to get a better angle, you suddenly heard the sound of gunfire echoing through the alleyways. Your heart leapt into your throat, but you didn’t move, focusing your lens instead. Sure enough, you spotted Batman and Robin making their move on a group of heavily armed thugs. You quickly snapped a few shots, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment.

But then, something went wrong. One of the thugs spotted you—your lens reflecting just enough light to catch his attention. Without thinking, he pointed his gun upwards and fired.

The bullet whizzed past your head, shattering the brick near where you crouched. Panic surged through you as you scrambled back, nearly dropping your camera. Before you could react, you saw a flash of red and green—Robin was suddenly there, pulling you out of harm’s way.

He shielded you with his body, guiding you towards a safer spot on the rooftop. His gloved hand was firm but gentle as he held onto your arm, his other hand reaching for a grappling hook.

“Stay close to me,” he ordered, his voice low and urgent.

You barely had time to process what was happening before Robin swung the two of you off the rooftop, carrying you safely to a nearby building. Your heart pounded in your chest, both from the fear of what just happened and from the adrenaline of being in such close proximity to the vigilante.

When your feet finally touched solid ground, you stumbled slightly, still reeling from the close call. Robin’s arm was still around your waist, steadying you, and you couldn’t help but notice how strong and warm he felt, even through his suit.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with concern.

You nodded, but your mind was spinning. There was something about his voice, the way he held you—something that felt so familiar.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you managed to reply, your breath hitching slightly as you looked up at him. Your eyes locked with his, and suddenly, everything clicked into place. The green mask, the intense gaze, the way he said your name earlier—it was Damian. It had to be.

“Damian?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Robin stiffened, his grip on you tightening for a split second before he quickly let go, stepping back. His expression was hidden behind the mask, but you could see the conflict in his eyes. He hesitated, clearly torn between continuing the charade and telling you the truth.

“I—” he started, but the words seemed to stick in his throat.

“Damian, it’s you, isn’t it?” you pressed, your voice trembling slightly. “You’re Robin.”

#dc x you #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne headcannons #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcanon #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader

924 notes · View notes

keithyp00 · 2 months ago

Text

●・○・The Congressman's Shadow・○・●

Pairing: Congressman!Bucky Barnes x f!assistant!reader

Warnings/Tags: slow-burn, secret identities, mutual pining, angst, eventual partnership, redemption, mild language, references to violence/espionage, tension

Word Count: 1.9K

Author Note: This was inspired by Thunderbolts* but does not contain any spoilers so don't worry!

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

Washington D.C. was a city of secrets.

They clung to the marble walls of Capitol Hill and twisted like ivy up the columns of the rotunda. They slipped into briefcases and beneath the tailored hems of suits. And Bucky Barnes- James Buchanan Barnes, newly elected Congressman from New York's 14th district- was learning quickly just how deep those secrets ran.

But none, he would later say, ran as deep as yours.

______________________________________________________________

You were already in his office when he arrived that morning.

Coffee in hand, heels off, fingers flying across a tablet. You didn't look up when he opened the door, just muttered, "You're late."

"You're early," he countered, tossing his coat onto the couch in the corner of his office.

"I'm always early. It's my job to be early."

"And my job is to be charming," Bucky replied, flashing a grin. "Which means I'm on time, actually. Fashionably."

You gave him a flat look. "You have a committee hearing in twenty minutes and a briefing on the humanitarian bill draft after that. I moved your meeting with the energy council to next week because they double-booked you with a security panel."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. "How do you keep all that in your head?"

"I'm terrifying and overqualified," you smiled with a shrug.

You were. And he knew it.

When Bucky first hired you, he figured you were another one of those political lifers- impossibly efficient, quick with a lie or a smile, maybe both. What he hadn't expected was someone so... sharp. Like a blade that hadn't dulled with time. Someone who didn't flinch at veiled threats or news of violence overseas. Someone who looked at him like she'd already figured out every angle of his plan and had a backup for every possible outcome.

"You ever think about running for office?" He asked once, weeks ago, after a long day of policy wrangling and political bullshit.

You laughed. "No. I've seen what it does to people."

"From the inside?"

You just smiled. "Something like that."

______________________________________________________________

He learned more about you in pieces.

Like how you hated being called 'ma'am' even by staffers, or how you could defuse a tense room with a single sentence. How you noticed things- things Bucky didn't even know he's missed. The way a hallway felt too quiet. The change in security's walking patterns. You moved like someone who had trained to make herself invisible, only now you chose to be seen.

And god help him, you were his type. Smart, steady, unflinching. Unreachable, most days. But he could see the slivers. The soft smiles when he made a joke that landed, the concern that crossed your face when he rubbed at his arm for too long, the subtle way you always knew when he needed to take a break.

He tried to ignore it.

He failed.

______________________________________________________________

The shift came quietly. A fundraiser. A suit. Your dress.

"You clean up nice," he said, eyes trailing the sweep of your gown.

"You say that like I'm usually covered in dirt."

"You say that like you haven't threatened six lobbyists this week alone."

"They deserved it," you replied flatly, but there was the ghost of a smile lingering on your features.

He laughed and offered you his arm. And when you took it, something clicked into place.

You belonged at his side.

Not just in the office, not just at events. But somewhere deeper. And Bucky- who'd known war and pain and redemption- felt that longing stir like a ghost.

Still, he didn't act.

Not then.

______________________________________________________________

Everything changed in early spring.

A car exploded three blocks from the Capitol. Not near Bucky's office, not officially tied to his work, but close enough to raise alarms. Security tripled. Surveillance swept wider.

But it wasn't until the second explosion- a smaller one, near a protest line- that the fear set in.

That night, Bucky sat at his desk long after the rest of the building emptied. You stood across from him, tablet abandoned on your desk, arms crossed.

"You know something," he said quietly.

You didn't respond at first.

Then, softly: "It wasn't random."

Bucky met your eyes. "How do you know?"

You hesitated. Then: "Because I used to be the one who cleaned up after these."

The silence stretched.

Bucky didn't move.

"I wasn't always in politics," you said, voice flat. "I did clean-up work. Intel. Field extraction. A few other words that mean 'get in, get out, cover the mess.'"

His jaw tightened. "For who?"

"Multiple flags." You looked away. "Mostly ours."

The room spun slightly. You'd always been a mystery- but this? This was something else. Not a background in policy or communications. You weren't just overqualified.

You were dangerous.

He should have been angry. Should've felt betrayed.

But all he said was, "Why tell me now?"

"Because if this keeps escalating, you're going to need to be more than a congressman. You're going to need to be someone who knows the shadows."

Bucky stood. "Then I want you in the field."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. You said you used to clean up messes. Well, we've got a mess. I want you in it with me."

You stared at him. "That's not how this works."

"It is now."

______________________________________________________________

The days that followed were a whirlwind.

Behind closed doors, you coordinated with quiet operatives still in the game. Bucky pulled strings through back channels, dug for funding, arranged travel that wasn't logged. Together, you became something more than just a politician and his assistant.

He wore suits by day, but carried a sidearm by night. You traded in heels for boots, tablet for a burner phone. The city didn't know that their congressman was going off-grid with a former spook, but they didn't need to know.

The intel led to a hidden cell. You were recognized once, during a recon trip in Prague, and Bucky had pulled you into an alley, pressed close, and pretended to kiss you to hide your face.

It wasn't a hardship.

Later, in the hotel room, you broke the silence. "I should've told you who I was."

He shook his head. "You did. Just not with words."

"And this? Us?" You met his eyes. "What are we?"

He stepped close. Touched your cheek. "We're a team."

Then, softly: "We're more than that."

______________________________________________________________

The mission ended with a fire. A final ambush. You dragged Bucky out of the flames with blood running down your arm and smoke in your lungs. He woke up in a safehouse, dazed and furious with worry- until you limped in, bruised but smiling.

"You survived," he whispered, pulling you close.

"You make it sound like I do this often."

"You do."

"...I did." You cupped his face. "Not anymore."

He kissed you then, fierce and aching and full of everything left unsaid.

______________________________________________________________

Back in D.C., the headlines never learned the full story. Just whispers of an international threat neutralized through backdoor diplomacy. The public never knew about the fieldwork, the close calls, the quiet way Bucky took your hand when no one was watching.

You returned to your role as his assistant.

But sometimes, when the shadows whispered of danger, he'd look to you.

And you'd already be ready.

Because you were never just a congressional aide.

You were his partner- in every sense of the word.

______________________________________________________________

You didn't talk about the kiss again- not for a while.

It lingered instead, suspended between you in the quiet spaces. In the mornings, when you handed him coffee and his fingers brushed yours just a little longer than necessary. In the silence of long car rides, where you sat just a little closer than before. In the hotel room in Berlin where you shared a wall but never knocked.

You were both too careful.

Bucky had lived through too many secrets, too many betrayals. And you... you had buried your heart deep beneath mission reports and false identities. Feelings, you'd once said, made people weak. Vulnerable. And Bucky had nodded, because he knew exactly what it meant to fear wanting something so badly it hurt.

But he wanted you anyway.

______________________________________________________________

Three weeks after the mission ended, you walked into his office just after sundown. You looked different- no heels, no blazer, just a soft sweater and jeans that made you look like someone who belonged somewhere safe.

He was still in his suit. Tie loosened. Sleeves rolled up.

You didn't say anything at first. Just closed the door behind you and leaned against it.

"I thought we agreed to keep it professional," he said gently.

"I didn't," you replied.

His chest tightened. "You didn't what?"

"I didn't agree. I just didn't say anything."

Silence stretched between you again, like a wire strung too tight. Then you stepped closer.

"I'm tired, Bucky," you said. "Of pretending. Of acting like I don't think about you every damn time I lay down to sleep. Like I don't see you in the field and feel something real, something dangerous-"

He crossed the room before you could finish.

His hands cupped your face. "You scared the hell out of me when you got shot during the last mission."

You smiled faintly. "I scare you a lot, don't I?"

"Only because I-" he stopped. Swallowed. "Because I don't know how to keep you safe without locking you away."

"I don't want to be safe," you whispered. "I want to be with you."

The kiss was slower this time. No need for cover. Just lips on lips, hands in hair, breath caught in throats. You pulled him in like gravity- like coming home.

______________________________________________________________

After that, it changed.

Not in the obvious ways. Not publicly. You were still his assistant, and he was still the rising star of Capitol Hill. But when the doors closed, when the world fell away- Bucky became yours.

He started spending nights at your place.

At first, he brought nothing. Then a toothbrush. Then a drawer's worth of clothes. He cooked like a man who used to forget to eat. You teased him for it until he made you pasta that tasted like heaven.

You weren't used to softness. But he gave it to you anyway.

You slept in his arms, legs tangled, his hand always resting lightly on your hip light he was afraid you'd vanish. You told him stories of old missions- bits and pieces, never names. He listened like every word mattered.

One night, as rain drummed against the windows, you asked: "Do you ever regret this? Politics, I mean."

He was quiet for a long time. Then: "I regret not meeting you sooner."

You looked at him, heart aching.

"I would've fallen for you no matter where we met," he said, voice low. "But maybe if I met you sooner, I wouldn't have been afraid of it."

______________________________________________________________

The next mission came quietly.

And anonymous tip. A potential mole inside a federal agency. Something smelled wrong.

Bucky wanted to send someone else.

You refused.

"This is what I do," you said. "What I've always done."

"But now you have more to lose," he said softly.

You reached out, resting your palm against his chest. "So do you."

The op was simple. In and out. Or it should have been.

Instead, it ended in a warehouse fire and a chase through the streets of Philadelphia. You made it out, barely. Bucky took a hit to the shoulder and refused medical attention until you were safe.

Back at the safehouse, you stitched his wound with trembling fingers.

"I hate this part," you whispered, dabbing away blood.

He looked at you. "Because it hurts?"

"No," you replied. "Because it reminds me what I'd do to keep you alive."

You sat on the floor afterward, arms wrapped around each other, like survivors after a storm. You didn't speak. You didn't need to.

181 notes · View notes

ooooo-mcyt · 2 months ago

Text

I've always thought the idea of Double Life soulmates gaining or swapping some of their physical features (like giving grian cat ears or scar wings because they're soulmates) absolutely worked from the cute design element angle it was usually intended to come from. Like it was definitely cute.

But I specifically have chosen to co-opt this concept not for the cute design elements, but because I think it has great potential toward my view of the soulmate trope within Double Life as an absolute horror trope.

Because gaining new marks on your skin or hair or fully just new limbs to mark you as being inherently tied to a person you never got to choose could be a massive violation of personal agency and identity actually.

Scott and Cleo definitely painted each others faces and dyed each others hair to cover up any physical reminders of their assigned soulmates that could easily be covered.

#trafficblr #traffic smp #life series #double life smp #it's a traffic jam #i imagine martyn has very minimal identifiable features that can be transferred like that. so cleo didn't have much to cover.#but scott was probably having a. bad time. with crescent moon symbols on his face and blonde highlights in his hair. like pearl's.#and cleo just goes “..well you don't need to *keep* it”#i think double life is when scott starts wearing fashion colors in his hair too #so like

166 notes · View notes

wildestdreamsblog · 4 months ago

Text

Latibule Season 2: VII

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which he lost his latibule.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Happy birthday, Yoongi! I hope you are happy <3

GIF by uriamygdala

Masterlist,Latibule 2.VI

“This is…” Kim Taehyung started as he looked at the toddler that was bravely meeting his emotionless eyes.

“Problematic?” Jungkook supplied when he noticed that his hyung was grappling for word to describe the child that was now bouncing on Jimin’s lap.

Jimin gasped and covered the said child’s ears. He shook his head at him with a pout. “Don’t listen to your ugly uncles. You’re so precious! Look at your little hands and feet! So cute!”

Taehyung scoffed before returning his bored eyes on his phone. “I was gonna say interesting, but sure, that works, too.”

Kim Namjoon, who all called for an emergency meeting without Yoongi, massaged his temples. He couldn’t fathom how nonchalant the maknae line was about all of this. For fuck’s sake, they were all under the impression that Jung Hoseok perished in that fire! They had mourned him, gone through all the grief, the questions, the pain of losing someone they thought was gone forever. Yet here he was, standing in front of them like nothing had ever happened, as if that fire hadn’t nearly killed him — or worse, hadn't been part of a plot to end one of their own.

Yet when they walked in the room, they greeted Hoseok like he was merely away for a trip, completely unbothered by the fact that he had once tried to kill one of their own. Well, all except Jungkook, who had hopped over to Hoseok like a happy bunny and pulled him into a quick hug before declaring he was hungry.

Hoseok was whistling when he returned to the room, holding a bottle of milk that he had heated for Yoongi’s son. He looked so annoyingly calm, so normal, that even the calm façade that Namjoon was putting could not hold up any longer.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Because just as he was about to open his mouth, the door swung open with a soft creak.

The atmosphere shifted in an instant.

The moment Kim Seokjin stepped into the room, the air seemed to freeze. Silence descended like a heavy fog, and the once lively chatter of the maknae line came to a sudden halt. Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin, who had been acting so carefree, now sat up straighter, their faces momentarily void of expression. Even Hoseok, who had been so at ease moments before, paused, his eyes flicking toward the door.

Kim Seokjin entered with his trademark aura of danger. He didn’t say a word, but his mere presence was enough to command attention. Dressed in head-to-toe black, his face was as unreadable as a stone mask, as if his emotions had been sealed behind it for years. The sharp angles of his jawline, the coldness in his eyes, and the sheer stillness with which he moved only added to the mafia prince vibe that seemed to pour off him in waves.

Namjoon’s breath caught in his chest. The maknae line might have been able to brush off Hoseok’s return with a shrug, but Seokjin was a different story. Namjoon did have a suspicion that Seokjin knew something he had been hiding. The tension in the room doubled. There was a weight to the silence now, a suffocating thickness that no one dared break. It certainly did not help that he was carrying a gun in his right hand.

Hoseok, ever the calm one, moved slowly in front of the child, shielding him with his body. The toddler, blissfully unaware of the danger surrounding him, stared up at Seokjin with wide, innocent eyes. Jimin instinctively tightened his hold on the baby, though he, too, could feel the shift in the air. His expression faltered, a flicker of fear crossing his face for the briefest of moments before he masked it with forced calm.

"Hyung," Hoseok said, his voice steady, but there was a steel edge to it that betrayed his focus. His eyes never left Seokjin as he continued to shield the child.

Steadily, Seokjin pointed the gun at him and without any preamble, he pulled the trigger.

Jimin jerked back instinctively, his arms tightening around the child as if to protect him from the impact that never came. Taehyung and Jungkook both lunged forward, their eyes wide in a shared moment of panic. Taehyung’s hand shot out to shove Jimin further away, while Jungkook’s hand reached for the gun, but stopped just short. They couldn’t process it. The shot had been so fast, so sudden.

And then it hit them — Hoseok was still standing.

There was a pause, a beat too long, before the confusion started to lift. Hoseok, still calm, didn’t move. He wasn’t even wounded.

Seokjin chuckled darkly, his voice low and amused. “It’s not your day to die, I guess.”

He lifted his right hand and displayed the bullet, holding it between his fingers like a trophy. It was still intact, unspent. Namjoon’s blood ran cold as he realized what had just happened

Russian roulette.

The gun had been loaded with one live round, but it had chosen to be a dud this time.

“Lucky,” he murmured as he tucked the gun back into his waistband with a casual motion, as if the threat had been nothing more than a fleeting thought. "We’ll see how long your luck holds," he said, his voice cold and final.

The air was thick, saturated with the remnants of tension, but then — as if nothing had happened at all — Seokjin straightened, his face suddenly shifting back into something more neutral, almost... cheerful.

“Anyway,” Seokjin said, clapping his hands together with an exaggerated cheer, the shift in his demeanor as abrupt as the tension had been moments before. “I brought dinner!”

Jungkook, who had been frozen for a heartbeat too long, blinked, his face lighting up as if he hadn’t just witnessed the life-and-death moment play out before him. “Yey!” he exclaimed, bouncing on his heels. “Food! Finally!”

The tension from earlier still lingered in the room, but for the moment, it was buried beneath the surface. They were all gathered around the table now, the same group of men who had just been at the brink of chaos, but now, a strange kind of calm had settled over them. Even Seokjin, who had moments ago held their lives in his hands with the coldness of a seasoned killer, seemed... human. The mafia prince had brought a highchair for Yoongi’s son, placing it carefully beside him at the table. Along with the chair, he had brought a selection of colorful toys, almost as if to soften the edge of his own dangerous persona. Of course, in only a way that Seokjin knew how, he also brought with him several luxurious clothes for the baby. It was hard to believe this was the same man who had so casually played Russian roulette with Hoseok’s life just minutes before.

“How was the vigilante life, Hoseok?” he asked, his tone light but laced with something deeper — curiosity, maybe, or amusement.

Hoseok chuckled, a sound that seemed at odds with the darkness of his past. His eyes twinkled slightly, though there was a touch of sadness buried in them, a residue from everything he had been through. “It was… interesting, hyung,” he answered, taking a slow breath before continuing. He didn’t shy away from the complexity of the question. It was difficult, of course. He did not have the usual advantages seeing as he had to leave his belongings behind. After all, how could he bring something with him when he was truly ready to die that night? However, he did gain something meaningful. He glanced at the baby, who was now happily gnawing on a colorful plastic ring, oblivious to the world around him. Hoseok’s lips curled into a soft smile as his eyes lingered on the child.

Seokjin’s gaze softened, his expression almost imperceptibly shifting as he followed Hoseok’s line of sight. For a brief moment, there was no air of threat about him, no hard edge to his demeanor. Just a quiet understanding. The silence stretched for a beat before Seokjin nodded slightly, as if acknowledging something unspoken.

It was clear enough — since Yoongi’s son had come into Hoseok’s life, the darkness that had once swirled so heavily in his eyes since the only woman he loved died had lessened, the demons no longer clawing at him with the same intensity. It wasn’t a perfect peace, but it was something. And for Hoseok, it was enough.

Seokjin leaned back in his chair, his posture casual, but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed his focus. He was quiet for a moment, swirling the drink in his hand as he observed Hoseok. There was a reason why the man, who had been living in the shadows for so long, was suddenly back in their midst — Seokjin wasn’t one to miss the details. He exhaled slowly, his voice carrying a certain nonchalance as he spoke, but there was an underlying edge to it.

“There’s a reason why you’re suddenly back,” Seokjin remarked, eyeing Hoseok with calculated calm. “I mean, you definitely could have stayed under the radar. You did so successfully. So, what is it?”

Hoseok’s expression shifted instantly, the casual demeanor he had earlier slipping away as he turned serious. His lips thinned, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke, his voice steady but filled with urgency. “I need your help. Someone’s been following us, and I know it’s not Yoongi’s men. He doesn’t even know I’m alive. Just last night, someone broke into my safehouse with a gun.” He paused, eyes meeting Seokjin’s as if weighing the gravity of his words. “We all know he wasn’t there for a meet and greet.”

Seokjin looked thoughtful for a moment, the gears in his brain turning as he turned to Namjoon. “One of our enemies.”

Namjoon nodded in affirmation, his jaw clenched, the weight of the situation clear in his stance. His voice was low, serious. “One that is powerful enough to know you’re still alive and who has the resources to trace your location.”

The air in the room thickened, the tension rising once more as the implications set in. Seokjin’s expression didn’t shift, but there was an intensity to his gaze now, a quiet readiness that signaled he was fully engaged in the conversation.

But Hoseok wasn’t done yet.

“It wasn’t only me that person is after,” Hoseok continued, his voice hardening further. “It seems like he was also after Yoongi’s son.”

Seokjin’s face darkened, his eyes flicking momentarily to the baby before returning to Hoseok. His voice was low, measured. “Whoever this is, they’re not playing games.” He shifted in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest, his mind already calculating their next steps.

“That’s why I’m here.” Hoseok’s gaze was intense, his seriousness unwavering. “I need to know who’s after us and what they want. I can’t risk it anymore. Not when they’re going after him.” He nodded toward the child, his eyes softening just for a moment before hardening again

Jungkook, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, his eyes flashing with a steely determination. “Give me details, hyung. I’ll look into it.” His voice was sharper than usual, the intensity behind it undeniable. “You know I won’t let anyone hurt our family.”

There was a quiet confidence in his words. Jungkook was the tech genius, the one who could track down anything, anyone, with the right tools. He didn’t need much more than a name and a hint of a trail to start pulling at the strands that would eventually unravel their enemy.

Hoseok gave a sharp nod, appreciative but still focused. “I’ll send you everything I have — anything that can help. But I need to move fast. This is bigger than me, and I won’t let it touch Yoongi’s son.”

It was late when the men called it a night, their plans were solidifying. This was not the first time someone was stupid enough to make an enemy out of the Bangtan, but it sure was the first time that they involved a child.

What a fucking mistake.

Hoseok stood from his chair, moving toward the door where Seokjin was about to step out. His expression was somber, but there was something in his eyes — a weight that had been there for a while but was more apparent now than ever before.

“Hyung,” he called, his voice quieter than usual. Seokjin paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

Hoseok’s eyes softened, his lips curling into a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Seokjin, still leaning against the doorframe, gave a small chuckle, his posture relaxed as he regarded his younger brother. "For not killing you?" he teased, an easy smirk tugging at his lips.

Hoseok laughed lightly, though there was no real humor in it. It was the kind of laugh that came when one was trying to find some levity in a dark situation. “That, and for helping us.”

Seokjin’s smirk faded into something more sincere, and he stepped back into the room, closing the door behind him. His voice was soft but firm, carrying the weight of unspoken loyalty. “We’re family. That’s what we do. What we don’t do is betray each other.”

He placed a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, the gesture light, but the meaning behind it heavy. “Don’t worry. No one will dare hurt either of you in this safe house. You’re safe here. Well…until Yoongi learns that he has a son. Even I cannot guarantee your safety, then,” he teased before smiling at Namjoon who had been oddly quiet now. “Joonie will tell Yoongi, won’t you?”

Namjoon looked at Hoseok before slowly meeting his hyung’s eyes. He knew. It was foolish to think otherwise.

Of course, he knew. He had an inkling that he knew for a while. Namjoon was not sure when Seokjin figured it all out. But he was aware of Namjoon’s involvement in hiding Hoseok and Yoongi’s angel, except that he didn’t know she was pregnant that time. Nothing could move past his hyung’s attention. It was idiotic of him to assume that he or anyone of them for that matter could move without Seokjin knowing. The man had eyes everywhere, ears in every corner of the city, and a mind that could anticipate everything.

He was not the mafia prince for nothing.

Seokjin’s eyes narrowed, and the playful smile he had been wearing faded. "That’s enough of your twisted justice, Namjoon," he said, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Don’t you think Yoongi paid his dues?" His voice took on a sharper tone, more biting. "The two of you think Yoongi killed Hoseok’s girl, and you thought it was only right and just for Hoseok to also take away Yoongi’s angel. You’re both idiots."

“Hyung…you knew? Why didn’t you tell Yoongi?”

Seokjin shrugged, “For the plot,” he replied casually, as if his reasoning were something trivial.

“Wha-“

"Tell him," Seokjin demanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. There was no softness in his voice anymore, only the raw, unwavering certainty of a leader who had seen too much to tolerate any more lies.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but for the first time since that fire, you slept without experiencing any crippling nightmare. You felt rested. It was like your body knew it was safe. For the first time, you woke up without feeling that heavy brick pressing down on your heart, restricting your very breath.

Yesterday’s confrontation had done you good– regardless of whether you accepted it or not.

You weren’t even fully awake yet when you felt an arm tightened around your waist. Yoongi’s face burrowed on your neck, inhaling your scent as he completely plastered his front on your back.

Warmth. You realized that what you were feeling was warmth. His scent was all too familiar. It was like coming home to a place you never thought you could ever return to. Slowly, ever so slowly, you touched his large hand that was resting on your stomach. It was the first time you ever willingly touched him since he returned in your life. He did bare himself to you last night, and you were only too cowardly to do this when he was awake. You noticed new callouses and scars on his hand. The callouses were rougher than you remembered, and there were scars now, marks of pain he’d suffered, perhaps even inflicted, in the time he’d been away. He got hurt, something deep enough that it left marks. Gently, you brushed your thumb across them, your breath catching in your throat.

“What happened, Suga?” you whispered softly, careful not to wake the slumbering man up. You wondered if he still suffered from insomnia like he did before, when every hour of the night seemed to stretch endlessly, leaving him lost in a cycle of waking nightmares of his own.

“I made the men that had anything to do with your accident bleed, angel,” he whispered hoarsely. He was awake. “I made sure to triple the pain they gave you.”

You froze, your thumb pausing in its movement across his hand. The weight of his words settled over you, but it wasn’t anger you felt. It was something else. Something softer. A strange sort of relief. Your chest tightened, the guilt creeping in slowly like a poison, too slow to stop. You had hurt him. You had taken so much from him over the years. The lies you had believed, the things you had said.

“You got hurt… because of me,” you muttered, the words barely leaving your lips. You couldn’t even face him, couldn’t bring yourself to look at him because it hit you all at once—the gravity of what you had done. You had taken from him. You had taken his trust, his peace, his family. For heaven’s sake, you had taken his son away from him. His chance at a future that was never meant to be stolen.

You felt his lips press gently against your shoulder, soft as a prayer. His voice was quiet, but there was a tenderness to it that you could feel seeping into your skin, warming you from the inside out.

“I don’t mind bleeding for you, my angel,” Yoongi murmured, his words settling into the deepest part of your heart. They held no bitterness, no resentment, just raw devotion.

You couldn’t help but think about what transpired with the years that set you apart. Your mind went to the horrible things that happened for him to end up so wounded and so calloused. He had been alone for all those years. Maybe there was some truth to what he was saying. Maybe… he suffered just as much as you did. Your lips tremble and before you knew it, he was facing you, taking your tears in, taking the way you weren’t leaning away from his touch.

“Shh,” he consoled as he wiped away your tears. He would willingly leave the past behind because you were here now, and you were never going to leave him again. His arm was supporting his weight as he gazed down at the only person he would ever love in this life and after. “It’s all in the past now, angel. We will do better, okay?”

You nodded, feeling the weight lift from your chest just a little. He was right. The past couldn’t be changed, but you had the chance to do things differently now. To make it right.

Without another word, Yoongi leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. His lips lingered, and you could feel the heat of them seeping into your skin, a promise of the future you could still build together. He kissed the tip of your nose, then trailed down your cheek, slowly, deliberately. Every kiss was an unspoken declaration of love, of regret, of forgiveness. “I love you.”

His lips found yours then, soft but insistent, as though he was telling you everything he had never said. His hand moved to the back of your neck, holding you close as he deepened the kiss. And when he pulled back just enough to whisper against your skin, his voice was gentle, but his words were firm.

“Say you love me,” Yoongi ordered, his breath warm on your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. His arms were around you, pulling you in, as though there was no place in the world for you to be but with him.

The command, simple and sweet, sent a wave of warmth through you. But for a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to put all the emotions into one sentence. You wanted to say it—needed to—but your heart was still catching up with the flood of everything you’d just realized.

Yoongi, ever patient, waited. But when you took just a little too long, a mischievous spark lit in his eyes, and he bit down on your neck, just lightly enough to make you gasp, the sensation sending a shiver through you. “I love you, Min Yoongi. I never stopped,” you confessed.

Yoongi’s face softened, his expression brighter than you’d ever seen it before. It was as though all the pain and suffering he had endured in this life meant nothing anymore. The world had been cruel to him, but in this moment, with you in his arms, everything was finally okay. He would gladly go through all those hells if it meant being with you like this.

And maybe, this was the right time to come clean and admit that the two of you had a son.

“Yoongi, I…I have to tell you something.”

“What is it, angel?”

“We have a –”

But before you could even begin to confess, something shifted. There was a sudden sound—an all-too-familiar voice coming from the other side of the apartment.

“Hyung! Where are you?” Jeon Jungkook’s sing-song voice echoed through the penthouse, breaking the intimate silence between you and Yoongi.

Yoongi’s face twisted in irritation. He groaned in frustration, his shoulders tensing as though he were ready to throw something at the door. “For fuck’s sake,” he muttered under his breath. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for months.”

But then the sound of Jimin’s voice followed, much too cheerful for Yoongi’s liking. “We brought you and noona food!”

“And we brought you someone you’d like to see!” Taehyung added, his voice laced with playful mischief.

“I highly doubt that,” Yoongi grumbled, resting his face against your neck in an exaggerated pout. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his stubbornness, at how he still refused to let go of the moment you were sharing. But then, with a light laugh, you kissed his temple, trying to calm his growing frustration.

“Come out, hyung!” Namjoon’s voice joined in.

“I also have my ever-trusty medical bag just in case!” Kim Seokjin added.

“What do you mean just in case?” Yoongi muttered, but you could feel him finally relenting. His arms loosened around you, but he didn’t let go completely. He still kept you close, as if the outside world couldn’t reach you while he held you there.

With a sigh, Yoongi finally pulled away, but his eyes never left yours. “I swear, if they ruin this moment…” His words trailed off as the two of you walked out of the bedroom with him guiding you ever so gently.

As you stepped into the living room, although you couldn’t see much, you could feel the wide, shit-eating grins from the guys. They were all looking at you both, clearly enjoying the playful tension in the air. Yoongi, however, didn’t seem to be paying them any mind at all. He kept you tucked into his side, his arm around your waist as he guided you toward the group.

And then, his eyes caught something, or rather, someone—someone he hadn’t expected to see.

There, in the corner, stood Jung Hoseok, holding a baby strapped to his chest. The baby was giggling, reaching out with tiny arms toward you, and your heart skipped a beat when you heard his giggles. You knew you ran out of time.

“Long time no see, hyung,” Jung Hoseok greeted him.

Yoongi froze for a second, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. And then they turned murderous as he pushed you behind him, standing in front of you as though protecting you from the person who took you away from Yoongi. The veins in his arms protruded as calmly walked to the table and pulled the gun strapped under the table.

You wanted nothing more than to run to your baby, to cradle him in your arms. It had been too long since he was separated from you. You longed to bury your face in his soft hair, to inhale the sweet scent of his innocence but you knew how one wrong move could escalate this situation. You were in the presence of the most dangerous men in the country. You had to thread this situation carefully.

Seokjin, who had been lounging comfortably on the couch as if the world around him wasn’t about to implode, didn’t seem phased at all by the tension crackling in the air. He was flipping through the movie options with an air of complete nonchalance, one leg lazily draped over the other. But then, he glanced up at Yoongi, a knowing look passing between them. His voice was completely unbothered when he spoke, as though this whole situation were nothing more than an ordinary day.

“Before you kill him, you should know that that’s your baby,” Seokjin said, the words rolling off his tongue like he was discussing the weather. “And you see that Gucci onesies? I bought it.”

Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat. He froze, his eyes narrowing as his mind scrambled to process the words. “What do you mean, my baby?” His voice was hoarse, a dangerous edge to it as if his brain hadn’t quite caught up with the weight of the revelation.

And just as the words left his mouth, a soft giggle echoed through the room, like a sweet, innocent chime. The baby’s arms shot up toward you in a gesture so familiar, so natural, that it made Yoongi’s heart clench in his chest. The little voice called out to you, a word that sent a shockwave through his entire being.

“Eomma!”

The sound of it hit Yoongi like a thunderclap. His breath caught in his throat as everything seemed to fall into place all at once. His eyes widened, disbelief warring with something more primal.

He had a son.

You and he had a son.

You made all his dreams come true.

You gave him a family.

Family.

It was everything he had wanted, everything he had longed for, and it had been torn away from him. He’d wanted to build something real with you, but it had been ripped from him before he could even hold it. You and his son were ripped cruelly away from his grasp. Hoseok had stolen his latibule, his sanctuary, out of spite and revenge for things he didn’t even understand.

Yoongi clenched his jaw, the familiar ache of anger twisting in his chest. His eyes never left Hoseok, the man who had caused him so much pain, even though the rest of the room felt like it was spinning out of control. His gaze was sharp, calculating.

“Y-Yoongi, listen. I I- was about to tell you. Believe me. I j-just wasn’t sure what the truth was. But n-now, I know. You have to believe me,” you begged as you forced him to face you. “I..I’m sorry, Suga.”

A moment was too long, and you could only feel the rapid and hard beating of your heart. His rigid back remained on you until slowly, too slowly, he turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon,” Yoongi’s voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of a thousand unsaid things. He called out, his tone emotionless, as if he were giving an order rather than asking for clarification. “The license I asked of you?”

Namjoon, who had been watching the unfolding scene with a tired but resigned look, sighed deeply. He walked over to Yoongi, an envelope in his hand, the kind of folder that held paperwork that would change everything.

“Just needs your and her signatures,” Namjoon said quietly, his eyes flicking between Yoongi and you, sensing the turmoil in the room as he placed the envelope on the table.

Yoongi didn’t hesitate. He opened the folder and saw the papers inside. His eyes skimmed through the papers. His signature was swift, precise, the ink dark and final on the page. His movements were calculated, his expression stoic, but his eyes—his eyes were locked onto yours with an intensity that left no room for ambiguity.

“You want my forgiveness?" Yoongi's voice was low, cutting through the air with a sharpness that made your chest tighten. His gaze never wavered from you, and the weight of his words felt like a weight pressing on your ribs. "Sign this.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, your hands trembling as the truth of what he was asking sank in. "W-what’s that?" you stammered, your voice betraying the fear you felt, the confusion swirling inside you.

“Marriage license, dear,” Namjoon answered, his voice as tired as his expression. He was no stranger to Yoongi’s intensity, but this? This felt different. The stakes felt higher than they had ever been. “If you sign this, we can start over again with our son. We will be complete. And the two of you will be completely, irrevocably mine. You can do that for me, right?”

Yoongi’s hand was already reaching for you, holding out a pen—just a simple pen—but to you, it felt like a lifeline and a leash all at once. His eyes were filled with something fierce, something that made your pulse race, but beneath that fierce exterior, you could see something else: vulnerability.

The hand that offered you the pen was steady, “Sign this, angel.”

Your heart was pounding. The room seemed to shrink, your mind racing with fear and uncertainty, but deep down, something else was stirring. Love. It was still there. It had never really left. Despite everything, you still felt it for him.

You took a shaky breath, your hands trembling as they reached for the pen. For a moment, you hesitated, your mind filled with doubts, but then you looked at Yoongi—really looked at him with what was left of your eyesight—and you knew this was the only way forward.

Despite that, with the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, waiting for your next move, you couldn’t help but falter. To Hoseok, though, that was enough. “You don’t have to do this, Y/N. You can still walk away-” Hoseok’s voice broke through.

Yoongi scoffed as he stepped near you as though the miniscule distance he afforded you was simply still too much. “I lived in hell for you, Angel,” Yoongi interrupted, his voice low but steady, his gaze never leaving yours. “I endured hell because of what he did. Don’t I deserve a happy ending now? After everything I’ve been through—wasn’t that enough for you? Do I have to suffer more?

Do we need to suffer more, my Angel?”

He was right, you surmised. You wanted this. You wanted him. You wanted your son to have the family you both had always dreamed of. Maybe, you really were selfish to have stolen what could have been with him. You knew how shaded his past was. You knew that the world owed him softness and happiness, that if he was sharp, it was only because he had to be in order to survive.

But when he was with you, those edges softened. With you, he could breathe easier. With you, he believed—for a moment—that he didn’t have to be on guard, didn’t have to protect himself from the world. You were his haven, and yet, there was a part of him that feared he couldn’t hold you forever. This was his way of knowing you couldn’t simply walk away from him, a legal binding document that declared it unlawful for you to love someone other than him.

“Please,” he begged for the first time in his life.

With a hand that trembled just slightly, you took the pen from Yoongi’s outstretched hand. Your fingers brushed his, and for the briefest moment, you felt the weight of everything settle in. Your hand moved without hesitation now as he guided your hand to where you would sign. The ink met the paper.

And with that, you made the choice that would change everything.

Latibule 2.VIII

#bts fic #yandere bts #bts yandere #min yoongi fic #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x y/n #yandere min yoongi #bts fanfic #Mafia bts fic

250 notes · View notes

starsworldd · 2 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐬-𝐒𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐢𝐨 𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬

PLEASE READ:

long post - thank you for 2k! i apologize for the wait but this took me a longggg time to prepare.

it’s also important to note that planets in taurus/scorpio will effect how you resonate with the interpretations below

reminder that readings are open! i’m now selling persona chart readings of planets/angles as well

take with a grain of salt

1st (scorpio) - 7th (taurus)❤️: relationships are a source of comfort and wisdom. scorpio risings’ experience of reality has to do with trust, hard truths, and taking back your power but their relations with others often bring a sense of peace and value into their lives. people may perceive you to be useful and smart in these similar qualities as well. your partnerships help to balance out the chaos and even insecurity you face at times with your identity and precense in the world

2nd (scorpio) - 8th (taurus) ❤️‍🔥: you are powerful in your resources/skills and in the way you support yourself overall. in this lifetime, how you find worth and appreciation for yourself and what you have (skills, physical resources, etc…). you may feel suppressed or face much controversy for what you value or for how you choose to support yourself monetary-wise or as a person. your biggest comeback story in life may have to do with self-esteem and with how you accumulate worth and value (physical or moral/mental) into your life and goals.

although there may be much turbulence and important realizations/truths that are found in how you support yourself and your goals, the transformations and scary things you face in life ironically enough can bring you lots of support if you choose to make good use out of it (which taurus is naturally good at). of course, this is the house of fears and traumas so a big part of your life story may include building your own sense of independence by learning from times of distress.

3rd (scorpio) - 9th (taurus) 💋: you could be especially sensitive to input from others and be able to pick up undertones and double meanings from others easily. communication, creativity (especially having to do with hands or written words), is your superpower. you grab others’ attention easily with your stories and artistic output when you learn to harness your fears/limitations effectively. this also makes you very intelligent of your community + gossip because scorpio rules over extremes as well

while in your everyday communication and daily life you may uncover and discuss skeleton’s in other people’s closet and may be doing a lot of activities that use a lot of your energy (scorpio is ruled by mars, planet of action), this makes you very comfortable (taurus) in being able to adapt to different environments and perspectives (9th house). having taurus in this house can make someone very wise because they find value and meaning in variety.

4th (scorpio) - 10th (taurus) 💄: people with scorpio in this house have usually had some sort of significant event or trauma regarding their family or childhood or may have regrets as to their actions in the past. these people could be born out of either extreme poverty or wealth too. these people’s sense of safety/privacy can be very important to them or they could feel like this aspect of their life is being compromised often (mars = conflict) but you could also find safety/comfort in curiousity or things that are “off-limits”.

if the private/emotional life of the native is exacerbated and transformative for them the career and reputation for the native is where they feel appreciated and most creative. having these signs in this house-axis can be indicative of a strong comeback story (extreme poverty to extreme wealth or even the other way around). the career-field can be very fulfilling (emotionally or monetary wise) and where you are grateful or feel lucky for the events your work presents.

5th (scorpio) - 11th (taurus) 🌹: feelings of creativity, romance, and happiness are taken to extreme lows and highs throughout life. if you’re a cancer rising, i believe this is where the “moody” reputation for us comes from. like leo rising, there could have been significant changes or revelations during childhood that changed your way of deriving happiness and familial support. these people may crave for luxury and overindulgence and can do so by turning their pain into power. scorpio in this house can make someone very grateful as well.

if our sense of happiness and luck undergoes significant change and gives us our “comebacks” throughout life, the 11th house is where we have already found peace and prosperity with our place in society. we encounter valuable experiences when polishing our individualism (5th) within our community (11th). we can find personal contentment and growth in accepting our individual, unique role amongst the people around us. you may like to surround yourself with confident people as well.

6th (scorpio) - 12th (taurus) 👠: these people can feel very unlucky or trapped throughout life, with the 6h ruling bad luck + burdens and scorpio relating to extremes. scorpio is a smart zodiac i’ve noticed as well, so these people usually have a certain way (especially that requires much energy) of doing their work and job that could defy others’ expectations. extreme focus on a certain obstacle or insecurities is also possible and can take awhile to finally figure out what makes you feel secure and satisfied with how you manage your burdens.

if your everyday burdens and responsibilities test your strength to the max in this lifetime, your imagination, creativity and solitude is where you find peace. it could also be that these people do unusual things to satisfy their need for pleasure and wholeness, because the 12th house is where we are easily misled. these people are internally comfortable with their thoughts and ideas, regardless of how odd they may be because it takes them to a place of stability from their scorpio 6h.

7th (scorpio) - 1st (taurus) 🍒: these natives’ partnerships/commitments make the native have to look more deeply into their underlying intentions or feelings with said partnerships/commitment. this can bring a lot of disturbing but also very eye-opening and insightful experiences that affects the native’s identity and ambitions going forth. scorpio can also be a curious sign so there can be a little bit of investigative or persistent approach to your partnerships and this is where your power can derive from.

it may seem like your partnerships “destroy” parts of your identity, because you approach the world from a sense of wholeness and peace. at least, these are circumstances that you are ambitious to achieve in your life. pleasure and steadiness are big life themes and at first it may seem like life is rather dull or boring, but similar to scorpio in its opposite function, taurus asks us to dig a little deeper into the simpler things in life and to find enjoyment.

8th (scorpio) - 2nd (taurus) 🍫: when dealing with other people’s problems (financially, intimate connection, debts, etc…) it brings about experiences that require you to fix what’s wrong or holding you back in life in rather uncomfortable ways. this can indicate someone who is afraid to acknowledge psychological blockages or who lacks the necessary bravery/instincts to attack underlying problems. you could earn valuable assets (tangible or not) from others when you engage with activities that are “gross” but healing/heroic.

this native survives on feeling complete. having a sense of wholeness is very important to these people and makes these people very resourceful because they are able to make the seemingly mundane valuable and able to work in their favor. these people are good at feeling in control of their life, future, and choices because they are committed and secure in their abilities. these people place much importance on authenticity, diversity, and self-sufficiency.

9th (scorpio) - 3rd (taurus) ❤️: when achieving mastery/global knowledge, and self-discovery it may have to do with bringing up topics that you ignored or swept under the rug especially having to do with your identity/precense (in context of the world and society). your global approach and experiences have to do with dealing uncomfortable topics in order to achieve better awareness and understanding of all aspects of the world. how you navigate foreign environments and your sense of flexibility is your strength.

if foreign experiences provide you with strength through perseverance, your intuition and familiar environments provide you with strength through growth (tangible or not). although it may seem like the everyday social rituals and ideas (including intuition), can appear mundane, this setup of houses gives an opportunity to grow a garden that provides roots, beauty, and good taste in the way you perceive and express yourself local environments.

10th (scorpio) - 4th (taurus) 🪭: these people have to have a ton of intiative when working in their career and towards their big goals in life. it may feel as though these people have to start from a bad hand of cards (compared to everybody else) in order to make it to the top or that their working conditions and/or responsibilities throughout life may feel difficult to complete or deals with high stakes/status. but even though there are difficult tasks they have to be done and you have drive/resourcefulness to do it!!

if the workplace is where you see the thorns in your garden (where you have to get rid of them) your home life and condition is where you see the roses. taurus is good at being able to attract good circumstances for themselves because taurus is very representative of wholeness and the feeling of completion. there’s probably more opportunities for you to setup and manage your domestic life the way you like. wisdom may be found through your domestic life too.

11th (scorpio) - 5th (taurus) 🧨: your surrounding communities/people who support you seem to try to pick you apart. you may feel as if the people who you’re around with don’t actually support you or that there’s something incomplete or “wrong” with the circumstances and people that made you successful, imposter syndrome possibly? your supporters/friends could show you things you couldn’t see before, likely for the better although they may reveal this in dramatic or difficult circumstances.

if you feel incomplete about the people/circumstances that support your public achievements, your creativity and lust for life is where you find contentment. these people feel most stable and appreciated for their talents and way of enjoying themselves. for these people, they find stability, growth, and satisfaction when they engage with activities that bring them happiness. they find beauty and appreciation from others for their self-expression/creatvity.

12th (scorpio) - 6th (taurus) ♠️: your drive to feel complete is what can you mislead you in life. this may be because you feel as if there’s always something missing or not being to shown to you but you are persistent in finding what that something is. this same energy can make the native very wise because they have to overcome their demons over and over again throughout life. but at the same time, you could also feel like your sense of resourcefulness and strength fails to manifest in reality.

if there’s conflict/determination in trying to protect yourself from things that induce bad energy, then there’s likely to be tranquility and acceptance in doing activities that can put your life back on track. the 6h is known as the house of bad fortune in astrology so these people are good at being able to find the most reliable way out of a difficult situation. and while these natives could be good at finding solutions, slacking off and overindulgence can lead to oversight with tasks.

once again thank you for 2k!

hope you enjoyed🥰

3K notes · View notes

licncourt · 3 months ago

Note

#gabrielle and lestat body swapping might actually fix them both

Tell me more about that………. 🤔

I would love to so much! I think this is a main point of tension between them in the books, almost as much as the strained mother by force/needy child dynamic.

Throughout TVL, their relationship is marked with so much unspoken envy. For Gabrielle, being Lestat would be freedom from her body and what it means for her to be a woman. In a cultural sense, she's chained to her womanhood like a prisoner. She was all but sold as a wife to an abusive man in a marriage transaction, raped into carrying seven children, most of whom died anyway, and kept hostage as a trophy. If Lestat hadn't turned her, she would have lived and died as an object locked away from the world. Lestat was born into the same prison as Gabrielle, but his maleness allowed him to escape and carve out his own way in the world. He was the one who freed her because she had not been given a way to free herself in mortal life.

Once she becomes a vampire, the path she takes (solitude, independence, learning, living off the land) is simply the one she would have taken if she had been born a Gabriel instead of a Gabrielle. Her body is what held her back in life, and Lestat represents the person she could have been, living freely and loving freely and moving through society without restriction. Their taste for adventure, thirst for knowledge, free expression of sexuality, disdain for authority, and desire to drink in all the world has to offer is the same. The only difference is their bodies, and that's something vampirism could only partially remedy. In some ways, she'll never be free of her human womanhood, not the trauma she endured and certainly not the long hair that never stays cut and everything it represents.

As a lesbian myself, I tend to read her a butch lesbian, but this applies to the transmasc reading as well. If you want to take the trans reading with her masculine presentation, that adds a whole other layer to this. It's not like a vampire can transition, her body is static and unchangeable, there's no path away from it. From that angle, the hurt is double.

For Lestat, both his mind and his body are their own ball and chain. So many of the books see Lestat grappling with his own masculinity and what it means to be a man, deeply insecure and failing by his own standards and those of others to live up to the ideal. His brute force tactics are incredibly transparent, it's clear to everyone that the idea of manhood he was raised with does not come naturally to him, but he craves the acceptance it would bring. I think Lelio was so important to him because it was something he COULD live up to, an idealized man he could successfully fill the shoes of, to great fanfare and accolades even. It allowed him to belong and be Enough, no matter how fleetingly.

I think he sees Gabrielle as aspirational because of all of that. She's a woman, but she's transcended her "nature" so easily. The quiet, competent masculine comes naturally to her. She's mentally and physically strong, self-reliant, well educated and intelligent, rarely overcome by emotion, never paralyzed by her trauma or doubt, always in control of herself and her surroundings.

Being a woman in itself could be freedom for him. Freedom from the obligation of masculinity, or at least freedom to engage with masculinity on his own terms. Freedom to be weak and freedom to Need. Being Gabrielle would be more than that though, it would be independence, education, respect, self-assuredness, gravitas, all the things he desires so deeply that exist freely in his mother in addition to the perceived benefits of womanhood. He doesn't just want femaleness, he covets the very identity of his mother just as much as she covets what his male birthright offers him.

#i'm the best at answering asks when i have pressing work matters to attend to #answered #vc #interview with the vampire #the vampire chronicles #lestat de lioncourt #tvc #meta

70 notes · View notes

archive-professional-jaywalker · 9 months ago

Text

It's kind of interesting to start hitting a time in my life where... i've kind of said most things about my identity at least once, somewhere. Not that i don't have things left to write, reword, say in better prose, or again because the first time was a passing thought in a chat with no archive.

But i'm not anymore, in the phase of joining the community, and rediscovering my every angles and needing to word it. It's mundane now, when I feel something bird-like. It's not a "ah, so that's what it was all along!", it's just me. It's a double edge, because I then sometimes forget how complex that web of experience is.

Today was mundane. I was just me, just a bird. Nothing much to say, from my perspective.

Today, I woke up later than usual. The sun was already up. I'm not used to this, as I usually wake and sleep with the sun, but i stayed up later than usual yesterday. Diurnal, like roadrunners.

Then I was quite pleased to see it was actually quite sunny. I wanted to sunbath, so i took out my bearded dragon in the garden, and sunbathed with her. She took on darker spots to soak up the sun, i wore a black shirt to mimic the patches of skin roadrunners show to do the same.

In the afternoon, I helped my family clean up my grandfather's house. I sent a message to another bird, inquiring whether she, an owl, would be interested in one of my late grandmother's owl statue collection.

I remarked how strange it felt for my neck to not be able to look upward how i wanted to. How bizarre the human activity of cleaning up spider webs felt, my arms-wings-talons straining to reach the roof.

Tonight i'm eating sushi. The raw fish always feel particularly birdy to me, I think it's the sensation of it. If I didn't stop my bird side, I'd want to swallow it whole, as birds do.

It's all so mundane. it doesn't even register as a particularly bird like day to me. I didn't do anything that made me shifty, that brought out the roadrunner in a way that supersedes the human. So many things that I just forget to mention, after a while. Obvious to me and only me.

#bird therian #therian #bird kin #roadrunner therian #bird banter #alterhuman #honestly i may even have forgotten things. there's so much one doesn't even note.#it's kind of vertiginous to imagine all of the things other people forget to say too.#things that seem obvious to them #but that would seem fascinating to me

155 notes · View notes

mama-qwerty · 6 months ago

Text

Sonic 3 - Knuckles

Okay, so I’ve been wanting to do some deep dives into the different characters of Sonic 3, addressing their motivations, reactions, and mindsets throughout the film.

And first, to absolutely no one’s surprise, is Knuckles.

Buckle up, kidlets. This’ll get LOOOOONG.

Sonic 3 spoilers ahead

At the beginning of the film, we see Knuckles being competitive, but not aggressively so. From the first few minutes we see him, we notice he’s not leaning hard into his warrior role. He’s not taking every competition as some serious challenge to his status, and overall seems much more relaxed than we’d seen him up to this point.

The events of the series helped to temper him, to show him that it’s okay to have fun, it’s okay to unclench sometimes, and it’s okay to be the kid he is. He’s part of a new family, a new tribe, and he’s thriving in it.

Yet when the opportunity arises to go into battle once more, he’s ready to do so. He’s eager for a challenge, and Shadow gave him more of a fight than he was expecting. He got his tail handed to him, and although he was likely injured to some degree, his pride was what really took the pounding.

But he shook it off.

Shadow kicked all three of their butts, easily, and instead of getting angry and losing himself to that rage, he followed Sonic’s lead to pull back so they could regroup and get some more information.

The Knuckles of Sonic 2 would not have done that. That Knuckles attacked Sonic without warning, without getting all the facts, without allowing his opponent to properly fight back. Picked himself back up after getting run over by a speeding car and gave chase. Attacked the car, holding on even when it flew over the edge of a cliff. Threw himself off a plane so he could attack a giant robot, without contemplating or coordinating any other plans or angles of attack first.

That Knuckles would have seethed after Shadow’s victory, angry that he’d been bested, and eager for a rematch as soon as possible.

But he didn’t. He listened to Sonic.

At the Chao Garden we see him having a little fun at Tails’ expense. They’d just engaged in a battle with a stronger, unknown foe, and lost, but he’s relaxed enough to engage playfully with his brothers, and take in the atmosphere of the restaurant.

Ya know what that showed? It showed that Knuckles had accepted Sonic and Tails as his allies, people he could trust and look to for alternate strategies in any challenge. Were he on his own, he would have hunted Shadow down endlessly, much like he did with the Master Emerald, to restore his perceived lost honor.

But he’s not on his own anymore. He looks to Sonic and Tails for their thoughts on a situation, and trusts them when it seems his own brand of dealing with something is ineffective.

Once they follow Stone and realize his identity, Knuckles doesn’t immediately engage in battle over the events of the last movie. Even when they go aboard the crab bot and see Robotnik, Knuckles still doesn’t immediately attack. He doesn’t threaten the man, or exhibit any anger toward him over the way Robotnik double crossed him, stole the ME right out from under him, and left him for dead.

When Tails admits that working with Robotnik is the only way to find who’s behind releasing Shadow, Knuckles agrees. He trusts his youngest brother’s ideas, as he knows the fox is more clever and able to see a bigger picture than he is. If Tails says this is a good idea, especially if it involves technology and finding a foe that seems otherwise untrackable, then Knuckles will agree.

Surprising no one, Robotnik double crossed them, and they only managed to escape thanks to Knux’s quick thinking and strong bite reflex.

Back home, he happily let Tails take the lead once more, concocting a plan to get into GUN HQ and retrieve the second key to prevent the use of the Eclipse Cannon.

Knuckles is a great warrior. He kept himself alive for the ten-ish years he traveled the galaxy, searching for Sonic and clues to the Master Emerald. He can face down nearly any foe. But his strength is a full frontal assault, not so much stealth and espionage. He himself knows this, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

It may have simply seemed like an easy few jokes regarding his desire to “break the glass”, but this is a dangerous mission, and he doesn’t like to feel like he’s simply sitting on his hands, waiting for his turn in battle. He knows Tails’ plan is a good one. He knows going in fists first isn’t going to get them anywhere. But it still bothers him that he is told to simply “wait until we need you.”

But he was there when they did. He acted the moment he was called into action. Everything he did was to further the plan, to keep his tribe safe. And to him, crushing the floor pad controller should have stopped the machine from functioning. When he’d accidentally crushed the toaster at home, it stopped working. Same with Sonic’s cell phone. And Maddie’s. And the VR headset that he totally didn’t freak out over.

Electronics are delicate, and if they are broken, then the thing they are designed to do will stop, too.

But it didn’t work that way, and instead he was lifted into the air, unable to help. His tribe was trapped, and the building he’d destroyed on the way in was threatening them. And he couldn’t help them.

And everything just went downhill from there.

Tom was hurt, and Maddie was . . . oddly quiet.

Knuckles was used to danger. To people getting hurt. He’d lost his tribe and his father all those years ago, so he wasn’t a stranger to feeling that fear or pain.

He himself had been on the receiving end of Shadow’s blows, and knew how painful it could be. But whereas he and his brothers could mostly shrug off those kinds of hits, push through those injuries within minutes, humans didn’t seem as resilient. Weren’t as ‘sturdy’ as they were. And there was a real possibility that Tom could die from such a blow.

A sobering idea.

The head of their tribe was gravely injured, and that meant Knuckles was the eldest warrior in charge. His whole demeanor changed the minute the ambulance pulled away. Gone was the more kid-like echidna, who let his brothers take the lead. He was now the eldest, the one who needed to look after the others.

Sonic was understandably angry, but when Tails tried to soothe him, the hedgehog turned his anger on the fox. Knuckles stepped between them, keeping Tails safely behind him as he focused Sonic’s anger on himself. He stayed calm and level-headed, trying to talk Sonic down. At the mention of using the Master Emerald, Knuckles still remained calm. He understood Sonic’s anger, his pain, but he knew from experience that did not make for good decisions.

And when Sonic insisted, when he threatened to fight Knuckles for it, Knuckles almost took the bait. He geared up, ready for battle, before backing down. Fighting would solve nothing. It wouldn’t take Sonic’s pain away. It wouldn’t diffuse his anger. It would only waste precious moments, and allow the Robotniks to continue with their plan to harm the planet unopposed.

Ultimately, Knuckles knew the only way to stop this weapon was for Sonic to go Super. And the only way for Sonic to go Super, was to use the Master Emerald.

And maybe, in that moment, Knuckles was hit with a sense of deja vu. It wasn’t that long ago that he himself had been so blinded by revenge he’d allowed an enemy to escape with a dangerous weapon. Had he not fought Sonic so hard, had he not been so focused on destroying the hedgehog, would he have recognized Robotnik’s plan to steal the Master Emerald for himself? Could he have stopped Robotnik before he got that close to the Emerald in the first place?

Yes. Yes he would have. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his anger toward Sonic—because of his association with Longclaw, and by extension the other owls—if he hadn’t been so enraged because his entire tribe had fallen that day, all those years ago, then he would have noticed Robotnik going for the Emerald. And everything that had happened after wouldn’t have.

And maybe it was that thought, that experience, that made him back off. He knew the anger inside Sonic. But he also knew Sonic’s heart, and it was that knowledge, that hope that Sonic was not so far gone, that the warrior’s heart that beat within the hedgehog’s chest would keep him from going too far.

And that was what made Knuckles let Sonic go. He didn’t approve of Sonic getting the ME while he was in that state, but they had precious little time to talk it over.

And he’d been right.

He wouldn’t quite know what happened between Sonic and Shadow, but seeing them work together to take on the Eclipse Cannon confirmed he’d made the right decision.

And when the effects of the Master Emerald wore off, and Sonic plunged toward the Earth, he trusted Tails’ idea to go after him. Sonic was falling too fast for both of them to leap out and catch up, but with that extra throw from Knuckles, Tails could reach him.

It was only a few moments later that Knuckles leapt from the failing ARK. He watched Tails grab onto Sonic, clinging to him as they plummeted, but then the fox went as limp as the hedgehog. The force of reentry had knocked him unconscious and now they both ragdolled in a freefall.

Knuckles fists were large enough to protect him as he entered the atmosphere, and he kept his eyes locked on the glint of gold as the portal ring slipped from Tails’ hand. His more streamlined form meant he descended faster, his experience with gliding aiding him as his tail acted as a rudder to maneuver the wind sheer to reach them.

Ring caught and thrown, and brothers safely tucked beneath each arm and held close to his body. The change between the atmospheres as they fell through the ring hit him like a punch to the chest, and he barely had enough time to spin them around so he took the brunt of the impact when they landed, before they hit the ground hard.

He had only one thought in his mind. PROTECT.

And when they awoke, and found that they’d been successful, he could go back to being pissed at Sonic for challenging him. Because even though everything had worked out, he didn’t like being put in the position Sonic had put him in. But when Sonic apologized, Knuckles believed he’d seen the severity of his actions. And his heart had stayed pure.

This movie proved that Knuckles is the bestest big brother, and will step up whenever necessary to ensure the safety of his tribe. That even though he’d lightened up, he will still kick ass, and take his role as protector very seriously.

I loved the way they portrayed him. He was so perfect.

~~~

Check out my other Sonic 3 analysis posts

#sonic 3 #sonic 3 spoilers #knuckles the echidna #sonic the hedgehog #tails the fox

143 notes · View notes

kakao-lovey · 3 months ago

Text

𖦹 Your all-encompassing scripting / OC creation sheet for shifting, writing or manifestation

Just something I created for funsies. This sheet doesn't really have a target audience, use it for whatever you like.

Full name:

Nickname: (Family: Partner: School/work: )

Age: (Perceived: Mental: Physical: )

Pronouns:

Gender identity:

Sexuality, romanticism:

Status: (Single/Dating/Engaged/Open/Married/Other)

Height:

Weight:

Family:

Medical conditions:

𖦹 Physical appearance

Most striking feature:

Skin colour: (Undertones, overtones, cold/warm/neutral)

Blush colour:

Skin features: (Acne, rosacea, freckles, stretch marks, moles, vitiligo, wrinkles/lines, scars, tan lines, bruises)

Skin type: (Oily, combination, dry, normal, eczema)

Other skin descriptions: (Ashy, transparent, clear, soft, even-tone, rich, glowy)

Hair colour: (Specify warm/cold/neutral shade, dyed or natural)

Hair type: (1a-4c) *

Hair porosity: (Low, high, normal) *

Hair thickness: (Strands, overall volume)

Hair length and cut: (Waist, mid-back, shoulder-length) (Find a picture on Pinterest and paste it here)

Other hair descriptions: (Glossy, soft, coarse, feathery, light, glowy, matte)

Eye colour:

Eye shape: *

Eyelid type: (Double, monolid)

Glasses: (Prescribed or fashion, colour, metal or plastic, shape)

Eyelash length, thickness, colour:

Other eye features: (Eye patch, scarring, heterochromia, aegyosal, eye bags/under-eye appearance)

Other eye descriptions: (Tired, sparkling, starry, watercolour, deep, dead)

Nose shape: (Hooked, button, ski-slope, flat, angled)

Lip shape: (Heart-shape, round, thin, plump)

Lip colour: (Rosy, red, neutral, two-toned)

Other lip descriptions: (Plush, soft, kissable, upturned/downturned, cracked)

Ear shape: (Large, small, more protruding or less protuding)

Piercings: (Any facial/body piercings)

Tattoos:

Other body modifications:

Posture:

Mannerisms:

Body type: (Plus-size, athletic, underweight, toned, thin, chubby etc.)

Body shape: (Pear, hourglass, inverted triangle, rectangle, apple)*

Hands: (Long or short fingers, bony or chubby, veins)

Arms: (Muscular, thin)

Legs: (Thighs, calves, ankles)

Waist, belly:

Chest:

Shoulders and back:

Feet: (Large shoe size, small shoe size)

𖦹 Style

Main wardrobe colours:

Clothing aesthetic in a few words:

Statement pieces:

Clothing quality and material:

Preferred clothing store(s):

Casual outfit: (An example of what you wear):

Dressy outfit:

Sports outfit:

Sleepwear:

Hair accessories:

Main hairstyles:

Bags:

Jewellery:

Other accessories:

Specific items of clothing you have:

Makeup style:

Perfume/body scent:

Manner of talking:

Stance on swearing:

𖦹 Personality

Take each of these attributes and put them on a slider from zero to one-hundred. Add explanations, if desired.

Introvert/Extrovert: (Social battery)

Pessimist/optimist:

Kindness and generosity:

Charm:

Serious/silly:

Self-love, self-preservation:

Energy in social settings (Hyperactive, tired and reserved):

Attitude towards work/education:

Attitude towards life in general:

Discipline:

Love of routine:

Quiet life / busy life:

Creativity:

Attachment to reality: (Tendency to dissociate)

Paranoia:

Political/social opinions: (Or lack thereof)

Philosophical standpoint: (Optional)

Religious standpoint: (Optional)

Dislikes:

Likes:

Motivation / reason to live:

Love language(s):

𖦹 Occupation

Current place of education/work:

Your standing at your place of work/education: (High schooler, manager, CEO, apprentice)

History of education/apprenticeship/lack thereof: (E.g. Went to kindergarten here, primary school there, switched schools etc.)

Academic achievements (What you would put on your resume):

Grades: (Past, present or future)

Hobbies:

Activities in free time:

Favourite music / things to listen to:

Favourite movies / shows / things to watch:

Favourite books / comics / manga / things to read:

Favourite things to draw / paint / compose / create: .* : If you are unsure, do research

62 notes · View notes

felassan · 1 year ago

Text

Dragon Age: The Veilguard info compilation Post 5

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

[There are also a series of 'lil snippets' posts where I was just chucking together bits and pieces that I saw at other times: one, two, three, four, five, six]

Post is under a cut due to length.

There is a lot of information coming out right now about DA:TV from many different sources. This post is just an effort to compile as much as I can in one place, in case that helps anyone. Sources for where the information came from have been included. Where I am linking to a social media user’s post, the person is either a dev, a Dragon Age community council member or other person who has had a sneak peek at and/or played the game. nb, this post is more of a ‘info that came out in snippets from articles and social media posts’ collection rather than a ‘regurgitating the information on the official website or writing out what happened in the trailer/gameplay reveal’ post. The post is broken down into headings on various topics. A few points are repeated under multiple headings where relevant. Where I am speculating without a source, I have clearly demarcated this. if you notice any mistakes in this post, please tell me.

For notes in here on community council things in particular, I recommend to listen to the vid directly, it's always better hearing things first-hand ^^

Character Creation

"The diverse body and gender options make it an industry leader by a signifcant margin" [source]

"BioWare was keen to highlight the hair strand technology that looked very similar to that seen in FIFA and EA FC, also made under EA's roof" [source]

"Fine tuning sliders that allowed for microscopic adjustments of nose angles, it was clear that a lot of options exist to get the smallest possible body parts exactly right" [source]

"There's no specific genital customisation to be oversold as CDPR did but, much like Saints Row, there is an option for bulge customisation" [source]

Pronoun choice, gender identity, body type, and voice choice are 4 separate options, not tied together [source]

Height is customised on a slider [source]

Size is customized on a triangle like in Saints Row: the 'points' are fat, slim and muscular [source]

The different lighting options are 4 different settings: clean, bright, dim, sunset [source]

In CC you can also try out what Rook looks like in their starting rags, in typical mid-game armor, and some level 50 gear (class appropriate for each one) [source]

There's a way for you to modify your character's look once the game has started if you want to make some tweaks [source: the official Discord]

You can be any class and choose any backstory/faction, any race, any gender [source]

Story and lore

On meeting Neve in the opening, if Rook chooses to say the positive dialogue option (I think this is the thumbs up one, "You rescued yourself, I see") they say something like, "It looks like you're doing pretty well by yourself huh?" [source]

According to someone who played the game at SGF, the game has a Mass Effect 2 Suicide Mission feel to it [source]

The Shadow Dragons are kind of an anti-Venatori faction, sort of. [source] A freedom force. [source]

The Mourn Watch are kind of like the police for the Grand Necropolis [source]

The Veil Jumpers are kind of like weird magical investigators, weird magical nerds [source]

The moment right after the gameplay video ends is 👀❗❗...? [source]

On the timeskip, the Community Council were told that they were going to make it about the same amount of time in-game as the amount of time that passed in real life from the time most people would have last played DA:I [source]

Rook's faction is also referenced outside of the intro segment of the game [source]

In the gameplay reveal video that we saw, some of the Evanuris statue assets at Solas' ritual site are doubled up in error, i.e. some of them have the wrong heads. This is not supposed to be the case, they are supposed to each have a different head (bear in mind this was an early build and isn't the final build of the game) [source]

Characters, companions, romance

Go [here] to see some DA:TV doodles of the characters that a dev drew this year and last year. :> the hidden doodle is a version of Rook, hidden as they have not yet shown any of the possible hairstyles for Rook outside of the gameplay reveal video. [source]

It is Lucanis who has the purple wings [source]

His name is pronounced "Loo-khan-ess Day-ah-MORT-ey" [source]

Lucanis is hands-down "the sole dumpster fire of the crew". Mary "wrote him specifically to be a bisexual disaster of a human. You're welcome." [source]

As a name 'Rook' is closer to 'Inquisitor' than 'Hawke' [source]

The Community Council highly requested there to be 4 voices for Rook. They kept bringing it up [source] (there are 4 voices for Rook)

The Solas face model has been tweaked "a hundred times" [source]

Gameplay, presentation, performance etc

Rook can jump [source: the official Discord]

Rook can sprint [source: the official Discord]

Warrior gameplay (or at least one build of this) involves doing the right parry timing to lead to a certain attack [source]

Warriors have a dropkick ability, enemies can be dropkicked off cliffs using this [source]

According to someone who played the game at SGF said that the game ran smoothly and didn't have any bugs [source]

Companions can have an ability that heals Rook even when they are not mages [source]

Sword and shield warrior's ranged skill is like, boomeranging their shield over there [source]

In terms of the 'the game isn't open world, it's mission-based' stuff, it could be likened to Trespasser in this regard [source]

The first time the Community Council played, they asked if there is a photomode. BioWare said no, and the Council were like 'aw that really sucks, we really wanted one'. The next time that they went to play it, BioWare introduced them to a dev and said "Okay, we have photo mode, all thanks to this guy". "So there is one particular dev we all need to be kissing the feet of" because he figured out photo mode. [source] [nb, more on the Photo Mode situation here]

The current build of the game is not the final build of the game. A few things are currently being vigorously worked on [source]

Other

Someone who played the game at SGF was told that all of the choices and consequences were in the game, and that basically the team are just polishing things up right now [source]

The number of community members on the Community Council is in the double digits and they are from all walks of life. They don't have any contracts which say that they can only say positive things; they can be as negative as they want about DA media. Not every member of the council has said publicly that they were part of the group, there is nothing mandating them to do so [source]. They have not played the full game [source] and they tested it on consoles [source]. A lot of them ended up liking the gameplay [source]. They played some of the main story but they don't know how it ends. At one point they did three days of playtesting from like 9am-4pm daily. "I liked the quality, I liked what was going on, I was very invested. I did have some worries from the first playtest that were completely resolved in the second". "If you are someone who is into the story, I think we're safe, in the clear, I think we're okay. What I saw, I was really enjoying, I'm really excited about" [source]

The name change also surprised the community council. They aren't keen on the 'the'. There are a lot of things that they said to BioWare which, sometimes things just cannot change as it's too late. [source]

They did not see the finished game trailer before it released, and at that time it might have had a different song in it. They fed back that the version of the trailer that they saw was fine (what they saw was a bit different) [source]

BioWare have data on the percentage of people who used tactical view in DA:I and it's in the single digits [source]

Upkeep of the The Keep is a lot and it goes down like once a month. There have been times when it was down for weeks at a time [source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #mass effect #lgbtq+#solas #some overlapping info in these posts but i figure it's better to say a snippet twice than miss sth :>

279 notes · View notes

accio-victuuri · 5 months ago

Text

i already posted about hui-ge before but the lore behind this person and the fansite is coming up again. more recently, because something xz said in the wuhan loch roadshow is very close to the words they used for an edited photo of wyb. this site has been long closed and inactive and i guess it was for the better considering fans were being too all up in their business. and if it’s true that they are somehow an insider, then it’s best to stop at some point.

i found this post of some more explanations on why hui-ge is known in the fandom & why we think he is in the inner circle. 🫶🏼

1. The website was launched before the 2019 Thailand concert and declared that it was not profitable. Not authorized, a non-profit site. which is kinda weird for a fansite, cause they also don’t sell photobooks or other merch. which may be this person’s own decision — but some see this as a possible hint at why they are doing it. it was a secret way to share things to fans. and knowing how this fandom works, especially with lrlg and other fakes, it’s not far fetched. plus the boys are known to have side accounts.

2. The night before the Thailand meeting, all the fans who went to Thailand were waiting for two people at the airport, he was the only one who posted on Weibo that night saying "No need to wait until tomorrow, "See you", and they really arrived the next morning. 👀

3. The later activities are basically shot from the inside, and there are no pictures from similar perspectives on other fan sites — or even official ones.

P1: 2019 Nanjing Meetup Audience entrance front desk view.

P2: 2019 XZ Milan Fashion Week Inside View

P3: 2019 Starlight Awards front view from the audience. The back view is opposite to the audience view that night.

P4: 2019 New Year's Eve Rehearsal Perspective

P5: 2020 The Untamed 1st Anniversary, this video is basically from the crew. Shooting angle of view. Aerial photography by drone. Close-up of crew props.

P6: Weibo Night 2021 Backstage Perspective: Double Award Preview

P7: 2021 ADLAD Backstage View

So basically, these photos can only be taken by someone who is very close. Especially the backstage ones.

4. Multiple advance notices, including but not limited to event previews notice, the owner’s itinerary, and the owner’s Weibo.

P1: the first one who clearly announced that they will be at the Double 11 night show in 2019.

P2: 2020 Preview that XZ will not participate in any platform double Eleventh Party

P3: 2020 New Year's Eve Preview

this is the more interesting one tho that made cpfs really believe his credibility. First snow in Beijing in 2019 they posted p1 and 10 minutes after this Weibo post, XZ also posted a Weibo post about the first snow. on that day, WYB inexplicably posted a message of "Happy New Year" and deleted it immediately.

BONUS: i also remember him saying in a message to fans that the “clinic is open” days before OOL was announced. there was also a possible clue regarding the cat and shiba inu cake when he celebrated his bday on set of OOL that year.

5. After Weibo started to display IP addresses, only three Weibo posts were posted, and all the IP addresses are in Beijing, and then he retired.

The coincidences also don’t stop here, fans are also seeing some similarity in his captions with the boys’ recent music. especially XZ’s.

we will never know the identity of who this person is but we gotta admit that all the coincidences are too much. how many times does it have to happen for it to be real?

oh hui-ge, you are definitely missed! 🙏🏼

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i have some more hui ge related posts and mentions on here at some point lol #you just gotta search #but anyway this has always been v interesting

124 notes · View notes

bronx-bomber87 · 6 months ago

Text

Hello lovely fandom! It’s tiiimmeeeee. I’m so ready for this premiere. This hiatus felt like the longest one yet. Probably cause they weren’t allowed to share literally anything for months and months. While I might still gripe we’re only getting 18 and 20 would’ve been better….I am psyched to be analyzing a new season ❤️

Changing these up to First impressions cause mini and I don’t get along in terms of brevity. Now imma try and be briefer since I’ll be doing a deep dive next summer. Hopefully in our next hiatus. *fingers crossed* The library still a turd for new gifs. So had to make all mine. Also I must have a new angle at my new place. So they came out not how I wanted lol But after a full day of work I was too tired to re-do them all. It's a miracle this is coming out with how tired I am haha Anyways bear with me and hopefully next weeks gifs are better ha Off we go!

7x01 The Shot.

Cool thanks recap. Not like we forgot the breakup that ruined us all…Would like to say someday that won't ruin me to watch, but that's a lie...Love that to leave the lineup for recaps now. Thanks.

It's the little things like them sitting next to each other in the swat car that make me so happy. Not gonna lie I was grinning like a damn fool just seeing them seated together. God I missed them. Straight giddy them working together in the field. It’s where they originated. It’s where they’re going to heal.

I love her directing him in the field. That snap of her fingers and he knows instantly what she needs and follows. That beautiful rhythm only they can achieve. Silent communication at it's finest folks. Mmm loving this. Lucy taking down a dude double her size and Tim coming in to help finish him off. Hot damn I love them in the field. Legit ship crack to me everyone. Look at those beautiful humans in motion above. I can't get enough.

Oooh lord T.O Tim *fans self* Mmm Can’t say haven’t missed him. I'll be real honest. Yum. Thank you Nolan for not undermining him while he sized them up. We would've had words sir. It probably shouldn't delight me watching him tear them apart, and yet here we are with me drooling over him. With zero regrets. Just nice to see him in his element after being knocked out of it last year. I shall enjoy this year for him I can already tell.

Ha! Bingo card hit. That's one square down. ‘Grey guides Lucy with her career.’ Yasss I’m a dork I know but you all knew this ha Grey pulling strings to get her to T.O. "Temp." I’m sure it’ll stick. He see’s what a good teacher and leader she is. Look at him jumping starting this for her. Nudging her in the right direction.

Lucy not being sure....Still battling with that UC identity and detective path. Some left over S6 bleh hanging around. I think Grey is setting her path and she has no idea how ‘not temporary’ this will be. At least IMO. I see her excelling at this and wanting to stay at it. Plus like Grey said it’ll strengthen her position should detective come back up. Also like to list the reasons why I think this will be good for her.

One it'll rebuild her confidence. Something we all know was shattered and then run over by s6. Second it'll give her a new purpose and clarity for her career. (Which is also a bingo square for me. Yes I'll be tallying mine all year lol) Now she has to accept being a FT one for it to apply but I think it will. Lastly it'll get rid of the pesky 'Chain of Command' issue for them later on. Because we don't want that again.

Tim enters the chat and he is a most welcome addition. The mini banter about her training. I'm here for it and I love love love it. Look at the flirty smirks on these idiots. Like breathing fresh air once again. The small smirks have me reeling. Gimme. Grey although has no time for this LOL Ushering their asses out. Just happy they can breathe the same air again and not have it be nuclear.

Then the real banter begins. I’ve missed them so much. I wanna cry. Tim instantly offering to give her tips. Is this one of his small doses? Possibly I think he would’ve offered this as an olive branch either way tbh. But I love seeing how eager he is to bond with her over this. Lucy’s so cute with her ‘ My rookie.’ Girl you’re gonna wanna stay a T.O. I already see it.

Lucy of course has her sassy answer locked and loaded for him. He answers right back. Goodness their banter is top tier. And woo another bingo card for me. Well this was not in my official bingo card. BUT I did say how if she ended up as a T.O. this season this would happen. In my 6x08 review said they would end up doing a bet over who trains a better rookie. And here we are. I'm enjoying my spoils and grinning like a happy fool. Which is nice after spending the second half of s6 being emotionally spent and destroyed.

Oh Lucy, like you could ever walk way from your man about a competitive bet of all things. This is how they’re gonna heal my friends. Going back to the beginning. To their roots. Where this rock solid bond was started. In the field. Along with some banter and fiery competition thrown in. This new dynamic has me so giddy I can’t even contain myself.

You can see how excited Tim is she’s going to be a T.O. With him. Flirting with her by offering this up. Moth to a flame with her in general. But this? Man is raring to go. Being a T.O and competition with his girl? He is beaming with excitement. Also probably knows this is a good way to further his cause of mending fences.

The goading of her oh my lord. It’s s4 all over again and I’m here for it. Except Tim is far more aware he’s in love with this woman. The straight teasing and flirting in front of the entire station. Welcome back. Oh my word I love sfm. His telling smirk is amazing. Reeling her back in slowly LOL

Nolan actually ignites more flirty flirts for them when he tells them about the ringer. Because classic John can't shut his yapper. I’ve truly missed this high grade goodness though. Lucy accusing him of hustling her haha Tim deescalates her like only he can with his strong logic. Saying it's actually harder that he has previous experience. He’s not wrong. First thing I thought about him when they said he had experience…Poor Seth called a virgin lmao

The rookies get assigned and we get jealous/protective Tim. Welcome back to our screens. You've been missed. *grabs ice water* This premiere is trying to kill me in the best way. I was here for the show. You tell that cocky little boy babe. I think someone else had one of the rookies flirts with Lucy in their bingo card. So you get that square ha The balls to do that in front of Tim. This kid has a death wish on wheels.

Ovary explosion at the way he barked at him though. Man is making me thirsty af. Also this kid is not a ringer in the least. I know what it’s like to de-program someone. It’s not easy. When I would get someone from another team (and terrible manager btw) I would spend the first 30 days just getting rid of the bad habits before I could begin to mold them. So ringer he is not....Lucy has a better shot with fresh meat tbh. Seth is far more impressionable. Hence her finishing line above.

Tim TEARS Texas a new one. Was kind of hoping he would. Nothing like a solid Tim T.O. rant. This kid needed it holy cow. Too damn cocky for a rookie even with experience. Makes it worse. Get em Tim! I’m enjoying this far too much. Haha Mmm. Sidelines his ass as he should. Maybe he can rejoin when his ego is in check.

This scene had me cackling. First off look at them both with crossed arms. I'm dying. Also Lying liars who lie LOL Both struggling a little bit with their rookies. It’s hilarious. Can’t ever admit fault of course. Very s4 vibes going on here I love it sfm.

Friggin Nolan has to be include himself...Listen John they checked the guest list for this work flirt convo. You're not on it sir. So needy this one. He actually didn't bug me much at all in this one. Probably the lack of Bailey....

Tim’s final T.O scene has me drooling holy hell. The jacket, the stern taking to, and telling them to suck less? I’m dying hahaha I loved how this was shot. Seeing the faces as Tim grills them both. Putting them in place. I love it sfm I'm so VERY excited for this season for him. If this was our look into it I am ready for more.

Oh my word, this final scene of theirs. If you don’t feel giddy, and a sense of promise for reconciliation from this interaction, I can't help you. LOL. I mean that in the nicest way haha I really do. The subtext running through this scene like a bullet train of hope. The moment begins with puppy dog Tim. Let’s take a second to contrast how he just was with the rookies earlier. To seeing his girl in the parking lot. That's the Lucy Chen effect.

That man is walking on air, and beaming his best ‘Lucy’ smile as he approaches her car, looking like a damn snack I wanna devour. I adore the swapping of stories. Giving each other shit but staying confident in their abilities to right their rookies ships as it were. Lucy saying ‘Tomorrow is another day.’ With Tim’s hopeful ‘Yes it is.’ Got me all in my damn feels. To me it’s a positive setup for the entire season. The low key flirty vibes here are glorious first and foremost. Second the flirting inside the promise with those two lines has me reeling.

The smiles they both convey just shows our babies are healing. Lucy is healing. She isn’t holding back with the positivity and flirting right back. There is this underlying UST too. But the most beautiful part is their talk about 'Tomorrow'. Tomorrow is another day for them to get one step closer to being who they once were. Only stronger. Tim’s 'Yes it is.' Is everything. His tone of voice, how he’s looking at her, and that determination to make something out of every day he gets with her. Driven to make tomorrow a day he inches one step closer to the promise he made in the elevator in 6x10. Oooh lord I’m excited for this season.

I said couple days ago how amped I was for this new dynamic. Them being T.O’s together and finding their way back in this fashion. It’s a fantastic and true to them way to do it. Couldn’t be more excited. The LOOKS everyone my god. The way he is pining after her. Doesn’t tear eyes away for a second as she pulls off. And our girl checks the mirror not once but TWICE.

Making eyes right back at him. This scene should excite the hell out of you. I’m scaling the walls right now haha This is as a very very promising opening episode for them. Little more proof they're going to make their way back. Won't be right away but it's coming. This is what I was longing for when we left off all those months ago.

For them to be in a better place to even start this healing. I’m so ready for this journey. I really am. Trusting the writers to do this at the right pace. So when it does happen and it will. We’re gonna be on cloud 9 x1000 Ooof lord that was good. They know how to close out an ep our ship. Watched promo for next ep. I’m vibrating with excitement.

The UST I feel from that little clip is the beauty of Eric and Melissa. This season gonna be incredible i feel it deep in my soul baha Now I’m excited we don’t have a break now that we’re here. As always thank you thank you thank you. To any and all who comments(love me to chat don’t be shy wanna theorize with you all) , like or reblog these. You have no idea how much it means to me. Also proud of myself for keeping this brief ish for me lol Below is my side notes feel free to comment on anything said in this or below till next week my lovely fandom :)

Side notes non Chenford

No Bailey in a the premiere was already staring off with a win for me. Sorry Jenna but ya know lol sorta not….really…

Lieutenant Grey! So happy for him. Solid reasoning why he got it. Sucks he feels bad but I'm glad for him.

Lots of action off the bat hot damn. They said we'd have more and I loved it

Oooh loving Wes being assumed to the station. Welcome sir. Happy to have you and more Wopez moments to come.

Aaron went to north Hollywood someone had to lol Makes sense he would leave due to Blair. Also leaves the door open for him to return someday. Which makes my heart happy.

Poor Wes has to hear the recording of a man wanting to do things to his wife lol oh my lord. He’s legit having a meltdown about it hahah I sense some trouble for Wopez. Should be interesting season for them.

#Caitlin's First Impressions #chenford #the rookie 7x01 #7x01 The Shot #the rookie #tim x lucy #lucy chen #tim bradford #s7 #eric winter #melissa oneil #otp: doing my job

82 notes · View notes