#[it does have some more graphic scenes but its still good] | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gingrrfrog · 3 months

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hey! 🫵🏻😐

you look like you want to read a jaeji draft where Jaehyun c*ms in his pants. i'm feeling gracious, so have a 3k nsfw drabble where jaehyun is tipsy, horny, and missing his wife.

warnings: masturbation, premature ejaculation, home-made porn (jaehyun records himself fucking his wife :3c), a man who is obsessed with his wife, basically

pairings: jeong jaehyun x oc female (if you aren't familiar with my work, feel free to check out ivoire and noir on ao3)

authors: one of my many many jaeji drafts that will never see the light of day. this specifically focuses on what would've been their engagement and talking about children. please note: this has nothing to do with the current timeline <3

“Jihyun?” Jaehyun called out on a Saturday night.

Ah. That’s right. It was Saturday. Jaehyun pouted. Jihyun would still be at work and after a night out all he wanted to do was cuddle up to his fiancée and hope for some passive head, but he would have to settle with either his hand or a nap. Tipsier than he would like, he stumbled up the stairs and yanked his clothes off his body before showering.

His shower was short as he didn’t want to be standing anymore than he was tonight at the bar, falling on their bed and landing head first into Jihyun’s pillow. He inhaled and smelled her scent and sighed, hugging the pillow close to his chest.

He reached for his phone shortly after and tried his luck with a quick phone call, his eye brightening when she answered and her face appeared on the screen. She smiled brightly at him and Jaehyun could only return the smile.

“Hi, Sweet Boy,” she beamed. Jaehyun was going to ignore his lower half twitching.

“Hi,” he doped. “How is work?”

“Good, I’m coming home soon after a few things. How was the bar?”

“Boring,” he sighed, rolling on his back, “its fun when we go and you start fighting.”

Jihyun snorted, “thanks. I’m just your entertainment.”

Jaehyun laughed and pressed his lips to the camera, “come home soon. I miss you.”

“I’ll be home in an hour or two. Get some snacks and we’ll watch a movie.”

“‘Kay,” he yawned. “Love you.”

“Me more, I’ll see you in a little.”

Jaehyun did as he was told and prepared the snacks as told after ordering them via delivery. He sat in bed and munched on a bag of popcorn until it was empty, even going as far as gnawing on the kernels until his molar hurt. He gave up on the bag entirely and settled for his movie, his eyes heavy and fighting them.

He had no idea what it was about, as he used the film as a time keeper for when Jihyun would come home. By the time it was over, he told himself, his fiancée would be in his arms.

He thought the movie was an action, and for the most part, it was. There was a secondary romance plot that bored him, up until the middle.

He didn’t remember looking at the rating but was shocked to see the main characters in a graphic sex scene. It jolted him awake, watching the girl rock her hips on the man’s lap. He swallowed and shook his head.

Jihyun does that.

Once his length is nestled in her warmth she’ll start slow, gauging how fast or how slow she’ll want to go by Jaehyun’s facial expressions. Jihyun would watching him through her eyelashes, her hair falling around her up until she would bring his hand up to her soft tresses for him to wrap it around his fist the way she liked.

She was so soft and she always smelled so good. He would never be able to describe it. Her natural scent always swirled beautifully with whatever fragrance she would wear, sweet like honey and warm like cinnamon, Jaehyun had no choice but to fall into her hold.

Said man groaned at his imagination and growing erection, hoping to will it away by squeezing his eyes tight enough. The action, however, only made it worse.

He could almost hear her. Her soft breaths whenever he thrusted into her. Her moans when she found her spot inside her. Jihyun was every bit vocal in the bedroom as she was outside of it, but was quieter, gentler, with more intimacy. Jaehyun loved when his name fell from her lips the most. He loved when she choked it out in between gasps and pleas, whenever he would turn them around and he would be on top, fucking her the way she loved, and her voice hitching up a few octaves. His name was always followed by a desperate kiss to wherever she could reach, his lips, shoulder, knuckle, anywhere.

And when she came…

Jaehyun shuddered. Then froze in horror.

He sat up quickly and looked in his lap to realize he had a full orgasm in his pants without even so touching himself. Humiliated, he peeled his sticky pants off to pull on a new pair before shoving his soiled pajamas into the washer.

Back in their room, Jaehyun sat in bed. Embarrassed and still hard.

He looked at his phone and swallowed harshly.

He pushed his pants towards his knees and unlocked his phone, his lip in between his teeth as he made way through his private photo collection.

Jaehyun let out a loud moan upon wrapping his hand over his length. Photos and videos of his fiancée were plenty, especially if she was so generous to share as many as she could.

He watched as she took his cock on screen, her cheeks flushed and pink lips parted. Her pants and cries were coming through his speakers as she took whatever Jaehyun gave to her.

“Fucking me so good, baby,” she moaned. “So, so, so good, Jaehyun—fuck—“

Jaehyun’s breath shallowed, his hand quickening over his length, “Jihyun…“

“Right there, Jaehyun, please don’t stop, please, please, please—!”

He grunted and fucked into his hand, his heart racing. Surely his own face is red at this point.

“So close, Jihyun,” he breathed, “so /fucking/close.”

“Close to what, baby?”

A cold sweat fell over Jaehyun. If his face wasn’t bright red early it was now, and violently. Shocked and distracted from his orgasm, he made eye contact with his fiancée who was now standing at the door, her eyebrows raised.

No matter how embarrassed…Jaehyun continued to run his hand over his length. He wanted to die, really, to be caught jacking off like a teenager. But the way Jihyun eyed him prompted him to continue, especially since she began to peel her own clothes off.

“Were you thinking about me?” She asked meekly, pushing her shirt off her shoulders as Jaehyun nodded dumbly.

He welcomed her into his arms and immediately went for her neck, drinking up her scent and quickening his fist.

“Want…to be inside…” he mumbled, kissing her shoulder.

Jihyun tilted his head upwards to capture his lips for a kiss, once that he so eagerly return. Jihyun held his face in her hands and locked eyes with him.

“Beg.”

Holy fucking shit, he thought to himself. He almost blew it.

“Please,“ he begged, shoving his head into her shoulder, “/please,/let me fuck you Gigi, please, please let me in your pussy.”

“You want it?” She asked, pulling her underwear to the side.

“Want it so bad,” he groaned, “I want you. I love you, I want you, Jihyun.”

“You have it, I’m yours, Jaehyun,” she all but cooed in his ear.

Gripping her waist, he pressed himself against her waist and shoved himself to the hilt, listening to her whimper before rutting into her. Jihyun threaded her fingers in his hair, rocking her hips against his.

“Missed you so much,” she said into his ear. “I feel like it’s been forever.”

Of course, it was a hyperbolic statement, but there was some truth with it. Both parties were busy with their respective businesses, Jaehyun coming home exhausted and fast asleep before Jihyun came home, while Jihyun left before he woke up. To say it’s been forever was dramatic, true, but to the newly engaged couple, it was arduous.

Jaehyun moved his hands from her hips to wrap his arms around her waist, securing her chest against his own. In his own way, he explained that he missed her just as much, if not more. Snapping his hips upwards, he welcomed her lips onto his, making sure to express his love in the only way he knew how. By giving, by servicing.

“Harder,“ she breathed against his lips. Jaehyun immediately flipped them over so that Jihyun laid on her back, her fiancé ripping her bra off and attaching his lips to a nipple before increasing his force.

“Fuck!” She cried out, her legs wrapping around his waist and her nails scraping down his back. “Right there—right there, Jaehyun, please—“

Jaehyun pulled away from her chest to hover over her, a grin on his face before kissing the tip of her nose, “beg.”

Jihyun gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes, but a harsh thrust to her spot elicited a moan.

“Please don’t stop,” she pouted, her bottom lip jutting out before her fiancé pressed a kiss it it. “Wanna feel good with you, wanna cum over your cock.”

Jaehyun continued his pace again, making sure to snap his hips forcefully, “like that? Do you want it hard, baby?”

Jihyun was all but crying, her moans and curses growing louder. Her hands left his hair and reached for her pillow behind her, fisting the fabric tightly in her hands.

The sounds of their thighs slapping together bounced all throughout the room, and with the way the bed creaked under them, Jaehyun wouldn’t be surprised if he broke something or if something were to break. Jaehyun wouldn’t be lasting long himself either, his grip bruising her thighs.

Suddenly, the grip around his cock increased, creating a tight squeeze that he could barely pull out of as Jihyun cried out her orgasm. She shook under him as her fiancé continued to drill into her, sensitivity running rampant through her body as she tried to push him away just to catch her breath.

To no avail, Jaehyun continued to fuck into her anyway, groaning when he felt something warm splash against his groin and trickle down his thigh, pulling out to watch Jihyun squirt on their sheets and on his twitching cock.

“Fuck, Jihyun,” he gasped, running a hand over his length until cum spewed from the tip.

Judging by the size of the load, he was well pent up, a pool on her stomach that didn’t include the cum he pushed into her wet hole, shuddering as Jihyun squeezed against the tip.

He smiled at Jihyun’s thighs shaking before he snuggled on top of her, ignoring her whines.

“Jaehyun, we’re filthy.”

“I know,” he sighed happily, kissing her chest.

His fiancée scoffed and pushed him off to walk to the shower. Jaehyun frowned and watched as she nearly tripped and fell over, her face alight as her fiancé watched her with a grin.

“Careful.” He warned cheekily.

“Fuck you,” Jihyun huffed.

He sat laid back in bed and heard the shower go off in the background. He really should at least change the sheets, they were wet and full of…fluids. He barely managed to peel himself off before deciding the sheets were a lost cause, throwing them in the washer with his pajamas from early and starting the washer before going back upstairs.

He could make the bed. Or he could set up camp. Literally.

Jaehyun walked over towards the bathroom were Jihyun was now finished with her shower, her towel wrapped under her arms as she dried her hair.

She watched her fiancée circle around her suspiciously, her eyes narrowed until Jaehyun pressed himself against her, reaching to pull her towel off and let it fall against the floor.

His fingers caressed the goosebumps her arms and watched her nipples pebble at the cold before he took her breasts in each hand, his twitching length nestling in between her bum.

“I’m marrying you tomorrow,” he confessed in her shoulder. Jihyun snorted.

“I work a double tomorrow so I don’t know who you’re marrying.” She placed the hairdryer to the side and fell into his hold. Jaehyun nestled his cock in between her thighs and thrusted slowly.

“I just showered and you’re going to fuck me again?”

“I was going to settle for your thighs,” he admitted, pecking her neck. “But I’ll fuck your tight cunt if you want.”

Jihyun slapped him for his crude language but embraced him. “You’re disgusting.”

Jaehyun grinned, “I know. And you’re marrying me.”

“Tomorrow?” Jihyun continued the joke with a laugh, turning around in his hold to wrap her arms around his neck. Jaehyun returned the same goofy grin and picked her up to place her on the sink, kissing her sweetly despite his crass words.

“If you’ll have me,” he returned.

Much to Jaehyun’s dismay, the couple was dressed and settled for a mattress topper on the floor in front of the window. The windows were open, letting in a summer breeze and filling the room with sounds of crickets and leaves brushing against each other. Jihyun turned to kiss her fiancé in bed, pulling him up so that she was sat on his lap. He smiled as Jihyun cradled his head, her thumb on his lips and the other caressing his cheekbone. Jaehyun kissed the pad of her thumb.

Jaehyun’s eyes flitted from her lips to her eyes, leering at her through his eyelashes. “What?”

Jihyun only smiled and shook her head, granting his silent request for a kiss.

“I love you.” She smiled. The smile was pure, innocent, despite their state of undress. “You’re my best friend.”

Jaehyun swallowed harshly, his eyes scanning her face. His heart raced in his chest as Jihyun caressed the new flush on his cheek and nose.

“I really,” Jihyun took a deep breath,” really can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. You…have no idea how much I love you—how much you mean to me.”

Jaehyun smiled finally, securing his Jihyun into his arms as she pressed them down on the floor again. She listened to his heart beat wildly in his chest as she felt his hands on her shoulders, squeezing reassuringly. Jaehyun was always so bad with words, and always tried to replace that with his actions. Jihyun didn’t mind, at least, now she didn’t. It confused her at first, initially, but she knew now that the soft caress and the gentle squeeze was always an I love you more than I’ll ever be able to explain.

“I love you,” he said finally after some time passed. “But you didn’t need to hear it to know.”

Jihyun smiled, knowing that she was referring to her ear placed against his heart. It slow down some, but it was just a tad faster than usual. She laid her chin on his chest, looking up at her fiancé as he brushed hair away from her face.

“Do you want kids?” She asked. With their wedding a few months away, they should’ve had this discussion earlier. She thought she remembered him saying yes once. “Like really? Actually?”

Jaehyun picked up on her uncertainty and raised eyebrow, “Eventually. Why? It doesn’t sound like you’re too keen.”

“I do, I just could remember if you did.” Jihyun reassured, “How many?”

Jaehyun snorted, “isn’t that up to you to decide?”

“I want at least two,” Jihyun explained. “A boy and a girl.”

Jaehyun scrunched his nose and shook his head, “I’ve done my fair share of raising boys. I want two, but I want girls.”

“You don’t think it’d be nice for our daughter to have an older brother to rely on?”

“No,” he mumbled. “That’s why she has me.”

Jihyun hummed in response before perking up, sitting up instantly and holding his hand, “lets have a baby.”

“Now?“ Jaehyun shook his head, “No way. Your dad would fucking murk me.”

“He won’t because we’re getting married in two months.”

“We’ll try then.”

Jihyun whined and pulled on his hand harder, “why not!? No one is going to know. We’ll keep it a secret.”

Jaehyun looked at her in disbelief, “you? Keeping secrets?!”

“Fuck off.”

Jaehyun shook his head once more before snuggling in the blanket, “we have less than eight weeks. Be patient.”

Jihyun pouted and fell on her pillow next, playing with his fingers, “what if we made one earlier?”

“Please don’t jinx it.” Was the last thing her fiancé said before he drifted off to sleep.

#jaehyun #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenario #nct smut #jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun smut #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun scenario #nct jaehyun #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 mafia

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what-have-i-unleashed · 14 days

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a happy life

1500 words of fic i wrote in one sitting because i'm feeling silly (and i'm procrastinating on my wips damn). about something new chara and killer. inspired by that scene in csm iykyk :3

(warning: angst, non-graphic violence, minor character death, abusive relationship)

for @howlsofbloodhounds because you've been on a roll with chara and killer lately lol. this is partly your fault.

How long has it been? Fifty? Seventy? Or maybe even two hundred Resets? And Chara still isn’t done with this world yet, it seems. This timeline, they want to see how the goat monster would react knowing her human child is still alive, then they would break her heart later on as some kind of sick justice. And so, Chara has been staying in the Ruins for weeks, leaving him directionless in the snow.

Flowey is nowhere to be found. Maybe that little weasel of a creature has caught up to something (not that it will matter anyway), or maybe Chara has dealt with him. It’s hard to know, not with how difficult thinking is lately. It’s like moving against the raging currents, every wave only making him more disoriented than the last.

Sans- no, Killer has been waiting for them in front of the door to the Ruins ever since the last Reset. There have been a few close calls where some monsters spotted him. But he remembers Chara’s words and stays away from them. The sentry dogs would chase him down and play with his bones mercilessly. The kid monsters would throw snowballs with rocks hidden inside at him. The other town residents would close their doors on him, leaving him freezing in the cold. Nothing good to come from them.

(“The world is a cruel place, Sansy,” Chara tells him as they rake their fingers through his broken bones. “They wouldn’t understand creatures like us – so far above monsters and humans it’s hilarious to know how close-minded the rest can be.”

The dead human child wraps their arms around his torso, snuggling their face into his oversize jacket. Their body is cold. They laugh, a broken melody. “I’m so glad I have you. I don’t need anyone else.” Their hug turns constricting, like a snake catching its prey. “You don’t need anyone else.”)

He must have dozed off from exhaustion because the next thing he knows is that very familiar rosy-cheeked face looking down at him with mirth.

“Killz, have you been waiting for me?” They smile beatifically, patting his head. “What a good friend you are.”

Killer turns to answer, but he feels numb all over. His body is heavy, and the warmth he could feel from his meager clothing is barely any at all. He can only manage to nod his head weakly. Chara laughs.

“Look at all that snow! How long have you been sitting by that door, you silly skeleton?”

They grab his arms and pull him up into a crushing hug again. If Killer was not already freezing, he would turn into a rock by how stiff his shoulders are. He forces his body to relax, to absorb every bit of warmth he can have from Chara.

“I miss you,” they murmur into his ribs, a soft cooing sound. They both stay like that for a few minutes before Killer can feel his legs working again.

Once he can stand and not trip over his feet like a clumsy Whimsun, Chara takes his hand and drags him forward to the town.

“I have a new game this time,” they cheer. “This time, let’s have you handle the EXP alone, okay?”

Killer can do nothing but nod. When Chara orders him to kill the dog couple, he does it. When they gesture him to attack the big guard dog, he complies. When they click their tongue at the jokes the feathered kid monster makes, he moves to silence them.

When the dust accumulates on the knife that Chara has gifted him, Killer feels more grounded than ever. The monsters are nothing compared to his friend – all their words and screams and pleads are white noise to his ears. Chara demands a piggy-back from him, and he drops to his knees without question. They trudge slowly forward to the deadly silent town, with Chara wrapping their arms tightly around Killer’s neck, their weight an oppressive force.

“Looks like everyone has been evacuated early, don’t you think?” Chara hums. “Oh, you can let me down now. I’m not tired anymore.”

Killer carefully puts the child down, mindful of the drop. Chara makes a beeline to the house on the near end of the town. A very familiar house, Killer’s mind unhelpfully chimes.

And a very familiar face standing just outside the house. A lanky skeleton monster in a ridiculous battle armor, his scarf billowing in the wind.

“SANS?” the skeleton exclaims. “WHAT ARE YOU- WHERE WERE YOU THIS WHOLE TIME?”

“So, you didn’t seek anyone out,” his friend besides him says. “I know I can count on you.”

“STRANGE-LOOKING MONSTER, THE GREAT PAPYRUS IS GRATEFUL FOR YOU FINDING MY BROTHER! ARE YOU BY ANY CHANCE ANOTHER OF HIS FRIENDS?”

“Well yes!” Chara beams. “Sansy here is my best friend, really! We go a long way back.”

“WOWIE! BROTHER, WHY HAVEN’T YOU INTRODUCED ME TO YOUR STRANGE-LOOKING FRIEND? WE COULD HAVE BEEN BESTIES!”

“I mostly live in the Ruins. Though I bet Sans would kill to let us meet one day,” Chara turns to Killer, their smile wide, “don’t you, Sans?”

Imperative received, Killer rushes in to attack the monster. His opponent lets out a surprised yelp before throwing up an impressive shield out of bones. Undeterred, Killer starts to hack away at the construct, his determination spiralling inside his SOUL. When the barrier breaks, Killer tackles the monster to the ground. They roll in the ground, as Killer doesn’t expect his opponent to be so physically strong. In the end, he grabs the pristine white SOUL with blue magic and throws the other across the field. He summons a couple of cyan bones to pin the monster down while he crawls over him, his knife poised perfectly at the gravity-lead SOUL.

“STOP! SANS! BROTHER, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the monster exclaims, sounding as if in distress. Something in Killer’s mangled SOUL stutters, as he unconsciously lowers in his weapon. The more he looks at the other skeletal face, the louder the voices in the back of his skull are. Something’s wrong something’s wrong something-

“Disappointing. So you cannot do it.”

Sans startles upon realizing how close Chara is. They’re standing, looming over both him and the skeleton monster. The expression on their face is indescribable, but Killer senses a tingling of fear running down his back.

“C-Chara,” he struggles to speak, his voice rough after so many weeks. “I can’t- I can’t-”

“Shut up.”

Sans clenches his jaw. Chara leans down and holds his hand holding the knife. They look at him straight in the eye sockets, unblinking, as they guide him into stabbing into the monster’s SOUL. The SOUL shatters immediately. Sans holds his eye contact with Chara in nervousness, even as the skeleton monster dusts under him, the dust getting all over his shirt and jacket.

In the oppressive silence that follows, neither of them moves or breathes. Chara’s hand holding his knife-hand is still bruisingly constrictive. Finally, they release their grip on his hand, only to grasp at his SOUL instead. Sans gasped, not expecting such a broiling mix of anger from Chara’s intent.

“You can’t do it because you’re not Killer.”

Sans grabs at Chara’s arms, his fingers digging into their flesh and drawing blood. Nevertheless, Chara’s hold on his SOUL doesn’t relent. They violently and abruptly pull his SOUL out of his body, their other hand resting on the back of his neck as they let him rest his head on their laps.

“Killer… doesn’t defy me.”

They stare down at him, a look of apathy in their dark eyes.

“Killer doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t think twice before murder. Every action he makes, he does it for me.”

Squeeze. Pain. Hurt. No no no-

“He does it because he loves me. As his best friend. As his partner. As his creator.”

Their shadowed face illuminated by the red light from his SOUL.

“I don’t know why you’re still here. If you’re going to get in our way… then die.”

The wind howls. Chara sits in the aftermath, cradling the spinning SOUL in their hands.

The body is unmoving. There’s no sign of it getting up any time soon.

“Hey Killer…” they hold the SOUL to their eye level. “Are you there?”

The SOUL pulses. The dead child smiles.

“It’s okay. The comedian is defeated. Now you belong to me.”

Maybe they should redo this all over. This timeline is a bust. There’s nothing to show Killer here. Everything is so monotonous without him.

“We’ll be together forever, right?” Chara gently pulls the SOUL closer to their empty cold chest. “Let’s play our games together, watch silly cartoons together, and annoy Asriel together. Let’s live a happy life forever, okay?”

Only silence greets them. And yet, they feel hopeful.

#i put killer through the wringer: the fic #i write #killer sans #something new chara #something new au #undertale au #utmv #cw abuse

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quoththemaiden · 5 months

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I hope everyone enjoyed the finale of @mrghostrat's Big Name Feelings Good Omens AU as much as I did. While ghostrat ended his story perfectly with a beautiful and realistic close to the part of their relationship we as an audience get to see, I had one more scene idea close to my heart and so I'm putting it out here because my heart still sings with love for this story and its characters.

These fanscenes now also appear on AO3. Along with the four I've already posted here (1, 2, 3, and 5), you can find a scene I kept off Tumblr ("Ch. 12"). You can read the final scene ("Ch. 17") below, but you can also find it on AO3, where it shows the text messages in graphical form.

Bilv, thank you once again for creating such an amazing story! I'm happy to say that my mind is no longer filled with your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems. Instead, please enjoy these 3k words of pure fluff.

—

Crowley dumped his bag on the hotel room floor and did a lazy spin to take in the space. "Not bad, eh?"

"It's very posh," Newt agreed, setting his bag down more gingerly. "You're sure we can't pitch in for it?"

"I'm not dealing with you setting your phone on fire trying to do a transfer." Crowley waved the offer off and flopped onto the couch. The hotel suite had two small bedrooms plus a nice little sitting area that would be perfect for board games. It was set up to mainly accommodate a family with kids, albeit a family that could afford to splash on a multi-room suite for the family vacation to Spain. Crowley stretched out, shamelessly taking up the whole couch in a bid to ease the stiffness in his hips. "Tell ya what, if you're feeling guilty, you can buy my drinks tonight."

Anathema laughed and gave Crowley a poke in the side, looking quite satisfied at his jerk and yelp. "Knowing you, that will end up being a fair deal. And I'll take care of renting the wheelbarrow to cart you back here."

Crowley rubbed his side dourly. "Maybe I preferred you on the other side of the ocean."

Anathema grinned at him, unrepentant. "If you want to stay at my place while I'm here, I'll lend you my keys." She ducked a thrown pillow with a laugh.

—

The weather was perfect for sipping cocktails outside, and their mutual agreement to all try drinks they'd never had before helped keep the night from slipping away from them too quickly. Being able to chat without the artificial framing of a webcam was a delight, too, but all of them were too continuously connected to be interested in a strict phones-down policy.

Anathema rolled her eyes and took another sip of her drink before answering the text that had just popped up on her screen.

Aziraphale: Are you certain he doesn't know I'm nearby? Anathema: I didn't tell him, Newt doesn't know, and he doesn't have a magical angel-detecting sense does he? Aziraphale: I'm not so sure about that last point. Some of his last texts seem awfully pointed. Anathema: You're being paranoid

Anathema slipped her phone away before leaning over to look at Crowley's phone screen, where he was lining up a very artistic shot of his drink, showcasing as much of the swanky beachfront seating area as possible. She blinked at him slowly. "Have you been sending Aziraphale 'wish you were here' texts?"

Crowley glanced at her sideways, his thumb paused over the shutter button. "Maybe."

Anathema sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Are you an adult who can handle a vacation with friends or are you going to pine after your boyfriend all night?"

"I'm here, aren't I? It's not like we're tied together at the hip."

Anathema shook her head in fond exasperation. "Getting these printed on postcards for him would be funnier than this text spam." Crowley barked out a laugh and sent Aziraphale his next promise to take him here sometime anyway.

Anathema pulled out her phone again, tapping out a quick message.

Anathema: He says he's a full-grown adult who can handle being away from you.

There was a pause before Aziraphale responded to her — probably due to dealing with a barrage of messages from Crowley.

Aziraphale: A very convincing claim.

Anathema looked up as Crowley put his phone away. "All done?"

"Yeah, he's taking an early night." Crowley took a languid sip from his drink.

"How have his workshops been going?" Newt asked, fiddling with a vibrant russet cocktail in a type of glass he couldn't name.

"Good!" Crowley's eyes lit up with excitement, his cheeks pink. "We polished his presentation before he left—"

"I heard about that!" Newt cut in. "He said it was more like beta-testing than beta-reading."

Crowley snorted. "If you want to see what happens when someone goes against the script, I'm your guy."

"The reception's been okay?" Anathema asked. "I know getting audience participation at workshops can be pulling teeth."

"Nahhh, it's different in the library world. Those weirdos actually care about their jobs."

"So do I, but it would be pulling teeth to get me to do a 'group active learning exercise.'"

"Fair." Crowley grinned. "They know how to talk like humans, then. And they really are interested in anyone with tips on how to break into digital spaces in an authentic way."

Newt hummed thoughtfully. "He's really okay with talking about his online presence at work like that? I'd be way too embarrassed."

"Nah, you stop caring about that stuff when you get older."

Anathema snorted. "I'm still saying it's pure luck you didn't chase him offline again with that con nonsense."

"Pfffft." Crowley made a sound that was all plosives and no vowels. "Never even close."

"Right," Anathema replied with tasteful sarcasm.

Crowley cut her teasing short by slapping a yellow canvas pouch down on the table. "C'mon. Let's play a game!"

"Oh, Bananagrams!" Anathema accepted the diversion and unzipped the banana-shaped bag, pouring the Scrabble tiles out between them. She deftly started flipping them letter side down. "I don't think Newt's played?"

Crowley nodded and waggled his fingers at the pile of tiles. "Rules are easy: Everyone's building their own board-free Scrabble grid. You start with 21 tiles. Say 'peel' when you've used yours up to make everyone take another tile from the stock. Say 'dump' to trade one of your tiles for three from the stock. The first person to say 'peel' without enough tiles left for everyone to take one wins. Simple, right?"

Newt nodded slowly, watching as Anathema divided the tiles out neatly. "So they're putting Scrabble in bananas these days."

—

Aziraphale: Is he up yet?

Crowley gestured Anathema towards the table where their phones sat in a cuddly pile of charging pads and wires. "You got a message while you were in the shower. From Aziraphale?"

Anathema kept her face carefully schooled as she sauntered over and picked up her phone, using the need to adjust her towel turban as an excuse for not making eye contact. "Mm." She picked it up and read the incriminating message, then snorted. "Bracing himself for when your wall of texts will start, I imagine."

"Nahhh, he loves it!" Crowley snagged the glasses cleaner out of his bag and sauntered into the bathroom. He'd be wearing them all day and he'd murder someone if he had to deal with the scummy film left by hotel soap.

"Whatever you say, lover boy." Anathema breathed a tired sigh.

Anathema: Yeah, and he saw this. We should be at the conservatory by 11

She should have just taken the phone into the bathroom with her, steam be damned.

—

The botanical conservatory was, frankly, gorgeous. The greenhouses were so large the ceilings weren't even noticeable, and the outdoor gardens were a riot of native plants. Crowley devoured the signs about plants he was unfamiliar with with gusto, and pointed out those he recognized with the enthusiasm of a man determined to prove he wasn't hungover. Newt listened with unfeigned interest, while Anathema wasn't shy about slowing them down to take photos of particularly artfully arranged displays.

They'd been there about half an hour when a patter of English broke through the background chatter of Spanish. "Could you spot me the entrance fee for the butterfly room?"

"Aziraphale!" Crowley immediately spun to his right, his whole face lighting up in delight before realizing that seeing him here was, in fact, quite odd. "What are you doing in Spain?"

"I left right after my last workshop. I thought it might make a nice surprise."

"It made the best surprise." Crowley pulled him into an ardent kiss that went on long enough for Anathema to cough something about public displays of affection. Crowley eventually relented on the kiss, as much for the sake of their breathing as anything else, but kept his arm slung firmly around Aziraphale's shoulders. "You're a bit of a bastard, you know that? I could've been looking forward to this the whole time."

"Only as much of a bastard as you deserve," Aziraphale teased right back with easy familiarity. His heart kept pounding hard anyway.

"Heh. What a way to butter me up while you're angling for a free ticket." Crowley snuck another kiss onto Aziraphale's cheek. Aziraphale laughed as he slipped his arm through Crowley's, relishing the contact after their weeks apart.

The butterfly room, when they got in, was a riot of fluttering wings. The promise of iridescence was enough to get Crowley to remove his sunglasses, and a quiet compliment on his eyes from Aziraphale was enough to get him tucking them into his pocket instead of putting them right back on afterwards.

They left the butterfly room — with some careful mutual inspections to make sure no one was harboring a stowaway, involving perhaps a bit more care in running fingers through another's hair than was strictly necessary for the task — and emerged near the exit to the rose garden. Crowley's hand moved towards his sunglasses but Aziraphale put his hand on his arm. "Just a couple more minutes? There's something I want you to see first." Aziraphale glanced over at Anathema, who nodded slightly but otherwise kept her expression carefully uninterested.

Crowley looked between them and shrugged. "Not exactly subtle as far as hangover tests go, but a'ight." Aziraphale laughed breathlessly and kept a firm grip on his arm, drawing him deeper into the garden.

The rose garden featured small offshoots to the main path where groups could sit for a little while to rest. It wasn't until the third one that they came upon an alcove that was empty, and Aziraphale promptly pulled Crowley aside, Anathema holding out her hand to keep Newt just outside it with her.

"Crowley—" Aziraphale began, his breath catching in his throat as he caught Crowley's full attention. "I, ah. I actually came here because there was something I wanted to say."

Crowley's hand twitched reflexively towards his glasses again, but this time he kept it down himself, even as his heart started to pound. "...yeah?"

"Yeah," Aziraphale breathed out as he sank to one knee, reaching into his pocket. His fingers were trembling, and his smile was nervous but so very adoring. "If I ask you something, will you promise to laugh?"

"—huh?" Crowley blinked in confusion, then stared as Aziraphale opened a jewelry box to reveal a simple ring.

"Anthony J. Crowley, would you be my snouse?"

It took a few seconds for Crowley to register any of the words Aziraphale had just said, but then he barked out a laugh as the last one hit him. "Really? That's how you ask?"

"You don't like it?"

"I just... I thought if you did it, you'd do a whole speech for it. You even brought us out to a rose garden!"

"I'll be honest, I had one of those planned. I just... couldn't quite seem to bring it to mind." Aziraphale had no idea how he was managing to talk even as much as he was around the tightness in his throat. "You haven't answered my question, dear."

"Pfft..." Crowley closed both his hands around Aziraphale's. "Yes. Yes, of course I'll be your... your whatever. Forever and always."

"Thank goodness." Aziraphale half rose and was instead greeted by Crowley also kneeling, both of them moving together for a kiss that was slow and deliberate. Aziraphale could feel the pounding of his own pulse against the tight hold Crowley had on his hands, and he could tell how Crowley's heartrate had risen to match his by the way their kiss kept shifting for quick intakes of air. Aziraphale finally broke the contact only so he could gently extricate his hands from Crowley's. It took every scrap of concentration he could scrape together to find Crowley's left hand and slip the ring onto his finger. "...it fit okay?"

"Nggh," Crowley replied before pulling him into another kiss.

They might have stayed there all day if Anathema hadn't cleared her throat — snapping another quick photo as they looked up at her, flushed and frazzled. "We are still in public, I'm afraid."

"Yeah," Crowley breathed.

"Huh..." Aziraphale added, just as coherently.

Newt shook his head at the unlikely prospect of them getting up anytime soon, and looked over at Anathema instead. "How were you so prepared?"

Anathema flashed him a smile. "I knew this was coming. Aziraphale asked me to take the photos."

"Is that why you're here?"

"It was the other way around," Anathema replied. "Aziraphale realized he could arrange his schedule to join our trip partway, and we worked out how to take advantage of the situation."

"Bastard," Crowley muttered in response to nothing and everything, pressing tender kisses to Aziraphale's left ring finger like he could imprint a ring there with his lips. "Did you measure my finger while I slept?"

Aziraphale smiled as he watched him, his heartrate finally settling closer to normal under Crowley's reassuring touches. "It's scarcely my fault you're so easy to send to sleep, dearest."

"You're ridiculous. Adorable. Incorrigible."

"Are those all synonyms in your mind?" Aziraphale leaned in to steal another kiss.

Crowley laughed breathlessly at how easily they'd returned to comfortable teasing and carefully pushed himself up. He tugged his clothing straighter and tried to pretend he was put-together as he glanced at Anathema, who was grinning unabashedly at them. "I'll want those pics for... for everything. All of them."

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley's arm for support as he straightened his own creaking knees. "I'm claiming Tumblr first, if you don't mind."

"Eh—" Crowley gave him his full attention again, not that it had strayed for more than a moment. "This will really get you notice, Angel."

"Good." Aziraphale took Crowley's hand and leaned in to kiss him. He rubbed his fingertip over the ring settled firmly onto a finger that had never borne one before. "Let them know who's claimed you."

Crowley snaked his arm around Aziraphale's neck, chasing down another kiss that went on long enough to have Anathema clucking behind them. "We're gonna get kicked out of the garden, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled against Crowley's lips. "Let them. The one we made is better."

—

Three bottles of wine sat open and mostly-drunk on the table, divided between four glasses that were using the remnants of the previous night's game of The Quiet Year as a coaster. ("We set it in an idyllic countryside and it all went downhill from there," Crowley had explained when Aziraphale came in and started examining the hand-drawn map. "I think the arrival of the dog was the real turning point to madness," Newt had chimed in. "It was doomed from the start," Anathema declared with a resigned sigh.) The red rings of wine stains could have added as much to the group narrative as anything they'd purposefully drawn.

"I came in like a wrecking ball~! I never hit so hard in love~!" Newt sang raucously, a broad grin on his face while Anathema laughed into her hand. Aziraphale tilted his head as he watched them, visibly processing the music.

"All the other kids with their pumped-up kicks, you better run—!" Anathema joined in as the tune jauntily transitioned to a new melody. Aziraphale's face froze into an expression of fond but intense confusion.

"Problem, Angel?" Crowley drawled, utterly amused as he watched the tableau.

"I'm fairly certain that isn't how those songs go. And isn't that polka?"

"Never heard of Weird Al? Bit bigger overseas, I s'pose." He gestured to Anathema's phone, which was supplying the impromptu karaoke party.

Aziraphale nodded, confusion dissolving and leaving just a hint of distaste in its place. "And a different generation, I suppose." He took another sip of his wine, a nice Syrah, as the melody shifted to a new and equally abrasive polka.

"I wear your granddad's clothes," the millennials continued singing, until one of them glanced at Aziraphale and started laughing and the other followed suit, wineglass held out in an attempt to insulate it from deep belly laughs. Crowley snagged it deftly and set it on the table, another drop of wine rolling down to stain the paper there. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, much more amused at their drunken good humor than offended.

Crowley patted Aziraphale's thigh. "Want to take the rest of that Syrah back to my room and leave the loverbirds to it?"

"It would still be rather noisy if we stayed here," Aziraphale replied with a tempting smile. "Why don't you come back to mine?"

Crowley leaned forward eagerly, only a fraction away from jumping up at the unexpected invitation. "Oh?"

"Well, the room may not wind up being quite as nice as the one you got, but I thought for our first night together as a formally promised couple..." Aziraphale's smile said everything.

"You're a genius." Crowley kissed his cheek and grabbed Aziraphale's hand to pull him up with him, then firmly refused to let it go despite the challenge of tucking a wine bottle under his arm while juggling a wine glass and his phone.

Aziraphale laughed. "We can take two trips, since you'll want your bag. Did you leave it packed?"

"Like always." Crowley grinned. "Not going to rib on me for that ever again, huh?"

"One occasion of convenience is not worth the wrinkles, my dear," Aziraphale responded with all the primness he could muster around a wide grin.

Crowley laughed and took the opportunity of Aziraphale opening the hotel room door to crowd closer and steal an eager kiss that was just as eagerly given. "You really managed to hold in that you'd gotten us a room all day?"

"I kept the trip secret from you too, didn't I?"

"Age will not wither," Crowley chuckled and nipped Aziraphale's ear. "C'mon, let's see that room. Coming back for pyjamas optional."

The two of them left the hotel suite hand-in-hand, with everything they truly needed already right there with them.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #bnf au #ineffable husbands #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man joy

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glitchedsoftware · 1 month

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well its been long enough so here it is -

My personal thoughts and issues with Sammy Lawrences characterization in Dreams Come to Life

little disclaimer im obviously gonna be pretty negative in this so if you like the books good for you!! i just want to put my thoughts on the matter out there its just some silly indie horror game book and i wouldnt take others opinions TOO seriously lol also spoilers for dctl of course

also another little edit - a majority of this was written before the graphic novel came out,, not like that changes anything rlly just yk remember im exclusively talking about the original novel here

Lets start with the most obvious point first - the racism/misogyny

The idea that Sammy's racist and misogynistic mainly stems from two parts from the book - the part where Sammy refers to Tom by his first name instead of "Mr Connor" to which Tom replies quote "Not used to giving someone like me respect?" and the part where he refers to Abby by her first name with Buddy directly stating how he wonders if this could mean Sammy has some sort of bigoted views.

Now of course he does consider if this is just a habit of his, but it is pretty unclear if that's the case. This weirdly vague and ambiguous way of writing a fan favorite character to be racist and misogynistic is just generally very weird to me. Before anyone tells me I am aware of the fact a former kindly beast member claimed that Toms race had nothing to do with it and Sammy just said that because he's a repairman or whatever, but that still doesn't remotely change the fact that it can easily be read as Sammy being racist.

(Also even in said screenshot they said how could be easily interpreted as that. Also they didn't even write the book obviously so that whole point just falls flat.)

To be fair, there is a line from Buddys first encounter with Sammy in which he also refers to Joey by first name, which could imply Buddys other conclusion was correct and that its just a habit of his.

However, I'd argue this small details pretty easy to miss (even I almost forgot about it while writing this) especially considering the only other people he refers to by any sort of name was Tom and Abby. That paired with the other two scene previously stated still make this very easy to misinterpret and even considering this, very confusing on if Sammy was written with the intention of him being racist. Also Sammys bigotry in this book being conflicted by literally one word kinda speaks for itself. It's just super weird and definitely should have been handled better. If you don't know how to write topics like this with the amount of care they deserve then you don't need to write them. On another note, Sammy being racist or misogynistic just wouldn't affect the story or world building in any sort of meaningful way. Whether he was supposed to be bigoted or not, it has no bearing on the story or characters. Any time It's even slightly implied this could affect someone it's just super underdeveloped which makes this whole thing just feel completely pointless and unnecessary. It really does just come off like it was just thrown in there to "make it more realistic to the time period" instead of working it into the story in any meaningful way that actually works, or any sort of commentary on that sorta thing other than just "racism and misogyny exist".

On a related note, I saw someone speak out about how they interpreted specifically the scene with Tom to be intended not to show that Sammy's racist, but to show how Tom would assume that it was about his race considering he's of course a black man in the 1940s and has clearly faced discrimination over that before. I could almost see how that could be perceived, but that along with the part with Abby really makes me contemplate if that was really the intention behind that scene. Also, as I said before, it isn't really expanded on how that would affect Tom. I get that that could just be because Tom is supposed to be more of a rude abrasive kinda guy, I'm not expecting him to cry over it or something. I just feel it should have either been a bit more developed on, or not been there at all. I'm all for subtly, I love how the subtle misogyny is shown in BatIM with the Alice angel merchandise not selling as well as other products, but if that's what they were going for I think this was a bad way of doing it. If you wanted to portray how this kind of bigotry affects people, maybe choosing the rude asshole character who doesn't really seem to give a shit wasn't really the best idea. (Also who's in the games implied to be classist but that's a whole other conversation) Sorry for the little detour away from discussing just Sammy, I just felt it was important since I do get where that point was coming from, I just still feel like the execution of it all was FAR from perfect.

Also overall the idea that Sammy would be racist or misogynistic is just awfully misunderstanding Sammys character and it just really fails at what its trying to do. Sammy is shown to have had a genuinely strong relationship with Susie (whether you interpret it as romantic or not) and never shown to have seen women as less than, quite the opposite actually. I saw someone say Sammy being bigoted doesn't make sense because "he doesn't respect anybody" and I heavily disagree. I think it doesn't work because he does care so much about people. In the cycle Sammy isn't shown to be selfish at all, like he's not just trying to free himself but also others (albeit through sacrificing Henry, and even then describes that as seeming "cruel"). You know it's "he will set us free". Whether he himself knows or not, Sammy does care about people deeply so him being bigoted just really doesn't work at all.

I just generally thought the topic of discrimination was handled pretty bad. I could go on and on about this subject alone, but hopefully I was able to get my point across.

Now with that out of the way I can discuss just the general mischaracterization and demonization of Sammys character

This obviously being a more broad subject makes it a little difficult to start so let me just start with this- I believe that Sammys character get heavily dumbed down to just being an asshole. I of course have no problem with Sammy being a bit of a dick considering the sort of sarcastic tone he's shown to have had in certain audio logs, but the problem arises when that is practically all he is shown to be. Looking through every scene with him, all he ever did was just be super rude to everyone and eventually go insane and kill people and talk about worshiping Bendy or whatever with little depth. This, in my opinion, makes him both weak as a character and antagonist. I mean, Buddy only first met Sammy the DAY he got infected by the ink. He never even knew what Sammy was like before that incident which REALLY makes the line "I just know that Sammy isn't Sammy anymore" make no sense. Buddy never knew Sammy, he only knew the one dimensional character we got in Dreams Come to Life.

After looking through all of Sammys characterization outside the novels I can clearly deduce that Sammy was never even explicitly the sort of condescending asshole hes shown to be in Dreams Come to Life, but was just a bit blunt and stern due to the stress of working at the studio. I get that some people just chock up his behavior to the fact that he had been drinking ink at the time or whatever, but again the fact we're never shown how he was before that just makes this feel like overall bad writing to me. It just feels like a very poor attempt at writing Sammy that lacks any sort of nuance his character was shown to have. Characters have intended purposes, and I believe Sammys was to display a character who was so overworked it drove him to insanity. Part of the reason he even worships Bendy is just because the unhealthy hours he would spend working forced him to have to see his stupid face everywhere, not the whole ink addiction thing the book goes with. It's one thing to make him unnecessarily rude, but the thing is that they never really deviate from him being just that, which just left his character feeling very flat and lackluster to me. Buddy being an "unreliable narrator" doesn't excuse this both because Buddy only states that he sometimes forgets the order of events, not the actual events themselves, and, as I said before, it never deviates from this view of Sammy. I don't even think Buddy was supposed to be an "unreliable narrator" in that way as I've heard people excuse this for. If all of Sammys mischaracterization was because of that, than like half of the book would just be Buddy completely making shit up, which clearly isn't the case. The book just genuinely tries to portray Sammy in some of the worst light ever.

All that along with the the whole implied bigotry thing I just discussed really makes it seem like they tried dehumanizing Sammy as much as possible, which really goes against one of the core messages of BatIM. Sammy just being some asshole who got addicted to ink and went crazy because of it is FAR less interesting or emotionally compelling than him being an abused overworked employee and a prime example of what working at the studio can do to someone. Stripping him of that in favor of making it that he's always just been a total dick just completely misses a lot of the point of Sammys character and even BatIM as a whole. It's not just a game about "ooh scary ink" or whatever, it's also a game about corporate greed, capitalism and obviously how big corporations abuse and manipulate their minimum wage workers. And that's what Sammy is. He's not "evil" he's just a victim of a highly unhealthy work environment. Sammy being overworked to death (literally) is something that is barely, if at all, developed on in the book weirdly enough, despite being a very interesting part of his character that they had every opportunity to explore. It feels almost like they explicitly tried making Sammy so unsympathetic so he could be a more "evil" antagonist which, in turn, makes him a very poorly written antagonist lacking depth and completely missing anything that made his character so interesting. Again they just took Sammy being a bit irritable and sarcastic and wrote him as being a genuinely bad person, which really bugs me for sorta personal reason I'll get into in this next section.

Why this matters (to me)

I feel its of importance that I discuss how writing an implied mentally ill/neurodivergent character in such a demonizing way can, whether intentional or not, come off as ableist. TO MAKE THIS CLEAR I am NOT stating Adrienne Kress is ableist. This is overall just a much larger issue in general that definitely could have a discussion of it's own. However I will be briefly talking about it since it does unfortunately relate to dreams come to life.

As I said before, Sammy is a victim. Yes, he's still a morally grey character who generally does bad things with good intentions, but hes still a character. The way Sammy is shown to act and have acted in the past is very likely because he was mentally ill and possibly autistic. Taking an actually nuanced character like that who was clearly just extremely mentally unwell and writing it that he's some evil irredeemable asshole has always just rubbed me the wrong way. As an autistic person myself, I've always kinda had issues with regulating my emotions and coming off as "too blunt", so seeing a character who also has those traits be warped into being a "bad person" just. Really sucks.

When I read Dreams Come to Life, I had always sorta read Buddy as being autistic, all though this coding could have been unintentional. For instance, he's shown to not fully get some social cues and mentions feeling like people would kinda talk down to him for not getting certain things. This being the case really confused me for a bit as to why Sammy was demonized for also displaying traits of autism until it finally hit me as to why that is. It's likely because Sammy shows symptoms that are unfortunately far more stigmatized by society. Lack of emotional/impulse control can obviously lead to someone being more prone to lashing out than other people would, and I hate how just in general people or even characters who do that are labeled as "bad people" since that clearly isn't true. Again, he's not evil or whatever, he's just extremely stressed and overworked. That's all it ever was.

Sorry for getting a bit personal, in case it wasn't obvious I'm just very passionate about this character (and franchise in general) and just wanted to discuss how I personally perceived certain things. I'm sure I wasn't supposed to read into it THIS much and I know I'm probably stretching with this. Again, I VERY HIGHLY doubt Adrienne Kress intended for Sammys writing to be read as ableist, just felt like getting my thoughts out there (regardless of how insane I probably sound)

Conclusion

To sum it all up, I just found Sammy character to be heavily flanderized and lacking a lot of the things that I personally loved so much about him, as well as finding the way bigotry was portrayed to be very nothing. It just overall didn't build on what we know about Sammys character in game in any interesting way, at least to me. Despite how long this was, I honestly don't really mind people who enjoy the books, this wasn't some personal dig on anyone of course lol. Hell, I'm even friends with some people who like Dreams Come to Life!! I've tried putting different perspectives into writing this, and I've obviously concluded that this, on top of just a bunch of general issues with the book, have just made me personally unable to like it. I'm fine with people liking the books, however I do wish people would actually criticize them more than they do. Like, you're allowed to criticize the things you like, especially with a franchise as flawed as Bendy lmao

Anyways that's pretty much it. Thanks for listening to me ramble about this silly little series I'm hyperfixated on <3

#autism be damned my boy can. write a god awfully long post about bendy and the ink machine.#batim #bendy #bendy and the ink machine #sammy lawrence #long post #kai please shut up #this post has been in the works for a couple months so if i worded anything poorly pls lmk lol

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alanisinstone · 2 years

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so i've had a channing tatum obsession since step up and a magic mike one since the first and i just thought this little shit up so. uh yeah. read at ur own risk mfers

18+ content

so male stripper bakugou who works at the best club there is in Tokyo really, has the hottest guys, the skimpiest outfits, the best liquor, its clean and sexy in there, and the music isnt corny (think the weekend and shit😛). so you come in there because ur girl wanted to do a girls night (she’s crazy) and you didnt really want to go but your therapist has been telling you that you should get out more.

so you go and you feel kinda out place and uncomfy a little because (for the sake of my fantasy) you’re not rlly the party type. ur not like bible thumper but ur just reserved. in general you like reading and picnics and flower arrangements and sunsets. so this isn’t rlly ur scene yk. but the tip of the iceberg of things that people would never suspect about you, is that you are desperately shoving your cute little fingers in your cunt every night searching for release. and you literally want it so bad but your own fingers just never seem to be enough for you. you just wanna get railed like a cheap whore and then loved like a queen.

and there’s like, little nuances to ur personality for example you’re a little bookworm, but like 75% of the books you’re reading are very explicit eroticas. and you like going to the beach at sunset but only because that’s when you can somewhat discreetly strip bare and finger yourself to some good graphic smut or skinny dip (you’re dying to go to a nude beach). and you’re always going to little quirky thrifty markets but partly so you can brush your cute, tight little booty up against the men (married or not... its for scientific purposes) staring at your tits from across the way, innocently urging them to get a peak of your lingerie down the front of your shirt or under your SHORT SHORT skirt (you only dress like that when you’re extra desperate tho, you dress pretty normal on the reg. it’s part of ur unsuspecting hottie thing).

so inside you’re like a little sex kitten, but outside you’re too shyyyy 🥺 to make any moves. then out walks katsuki. you’re sitting pretty on the black velvety half circle couch with ur girls, smack in the middle of it. you have on like a tennis skirt and a no sleeve, collared polo. you’re over there giving country-club-virgin-daughter-of-the-mayor and all ur friends are giving saturday-night-slut. anyways.

kats comes out giving TYLER GAGE but you can see he has like a thong on under his cargo pants. and it’s the first act you guys have really seen since u sat down and settled, all ur friends are hollering like banshees, and ur tryyingg to keep up your “oh my, this is so unsavory, how raunchy!” thing but the way hes LOCKING eyes with you and humping the stage is making you start to loose your composure.

so he’s doing his little moves or whatevah, lookin fine as hell. the crowd is already going crazy and he’s not even been out there for two minutes, so he decides to like spice it up a little. he sees you trying to act all nonchalant and it makes you stand out amongst your friends so he jumps of the stage and gets on top of you grinding and shit and he’s leaning all over you like "hey mama you havin fun" all up in ur ear, and you're like "umm, i mean, this isn't really my scene you know..." bashfully looking away. And you can feel him literally staring into your soul like he is STARING YOU DOWN, and its making you so shy and wet as fuck at the same time.

so the snap-back comes off and all the sudden its on your head and the shirt is coming off (hes still grinding on you and doing his little choreo) and he places your hands on his washboard abs and you are fully like "oh shit. this couch def has a wet spot on it" and hes whispering all low in your ear like "you like that shawty" and you're speachless. so he gets up and does the pants-rip-off thing and he has a literal thong on that is not containing anything. and he jumps up on the couch and grabs your head and pushes it against the back of it and is fully humping your face.

at this point i would have fully been grabbing HANDFULS of his ass and licking his shit fr and i like to think you would be too.

now hes straddling your face and his hand is all up in your hair, looking down at you like the sexy motherfucker he is and hes like "well I think a little fun would do you good, you look like you need to loosen up babe." and his dick is like right in your face, his thighs, his v-line, happy trail, you can literally see his balls, and you're drenched and flushed at this point and he can practically smell you.

so he does a flip off the back of the couch or whatevah.. comes around, grabs your cute hand thats been in your lap since the beginning, tugs you up off the couch and picks you up, legs around him. everyone is cheering and your still wearing his hat as hes walking you to the private room....

AAAAAHHHHHGJVGGHH BARK

likes and reblogs appreciated!

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genericpuff · 3 months

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welp, i finished the Dawntrial MSQ last night

it was

uh.

i actually enjoyed a lot of the things people were complaining about in the beginning, because while i could understand their criticisms, to me its flaws felt like something it would grow past as it was establishing a new foundation for a new story, which was what was promised to us, and obviously that's gonna require slowing down the pacing and lowering the stakes, which is fine!

but then the second half of the MSQ hit and i just-

on paper it should have been amazing

on paper i should have fucking loved it

but in execution, i stg trying to finish the lvl 98-100 MSQ took years off my life, even tho the majority of them took me a single night to beat, it still felt like it both overstayed its welcome and also did way too little with what it was trying to present us with

i know this is vagueposting because i don't wanna spoil, but man. "divisive" is definitely a word to describe the Dawntrail MSQ with, especially considering how many people were telling me "it gets better in the second half!" and again, I thought the first half of it wasn't as bad as people were saying, so I was HYPED for the second half, and instead I was brutally disappointed by what I got instead u.u

that said, the dungeon and trial gameplay mechanics are great, when the expansion remembers that it is in fact a video game it does it really well, it's just unfortunately not often enough for it to make up for the sloggy pacing of the story

the music is a bop, there are a couple tracks that i was a little eeeh on because they just felt really saccharine in a way that just clashed entirely with the tone of XIV and made me want to throw my headphones in the garbage, but the majority of the soundtrack was otherwise really well done, soken was really channelling his inner david wise here with the donkey kong vibes LOL but there are some somber tracks that are great too, there's a lot of range here in the soundtrack that should be appreciated despite the odd cringe track

youtube

environment design was solid, there were some zones that were questionable in their design because some of them felt pitifully empty despite promising bustling populations (looking at you, Tuliyollal and Solution Nine >:x)

but man , the last zone was brutal and that sucks because again, on paper, the concept SHOULD have been awesome, but ultimately it's still relying on the exact same plot devices in the past (insert lost civilization whose previous inhabitants/rulers are hellbent on keeping it alive even at the expense of current civilizations here) and the gameplay itself deadass forgot it's a game because there isn't a SINGLE instance of necessary combat or gameplay during all of it and so when the final quest (as per tradition, named "Dawntrail") finally pops up, it's like wait what ? that's it?? thankfully the last quest has both a dungeon and trial in it but it feels less like thought out design and more like the game devs remembering they had to actually include some gaming in their video game at the last minute LOL

i think the extra burden of directing FF XVI definitely caught up to Yoshi-P on this one, as well as the budgeting problems that still exist from COVID, and the fact that much of that budget clearly went to overall QOL changes like the graphics engine getting an almost complete rehaul (even in the previous expansions which is. a lot of work. like they want to re-texture ALL of the gear in this game and THAT'S A LOT, literally thousands of items!). where this expansion wins, it wins big, but those wins aren't enough to carry an overall lackluster experience that drags itself out way too fucking long for its own good. the story could have absolutely used a few more rounds in the writing room, if they couldn't afford more voice acted scenes then they should have simply just cut down on the amount of cutscenes, and i think the devs need to seriously ask themselves if the Trust system is worth dragging the Scions back into every adventure even when they have nothing to do (and it shows). like idk, just spitballing here, but the Trust system might be a good chance to re-introduce the GC squadrons, no? maybe go back to the roots a little bit and buff up the stuff that could still have a lot more life if given a chance?

anyways my experience with DT has been about a 6/10 and that score in the end will depend on how the patch quests go over the next couple years, I still prefer it over Stormblood (fr fuck SB lol) but it definitely feels like it's trying too hard to be like EW and ShB while missing what made EW and ShB so good in the first place (or acknowledging why its flaws were forgivable within the context of their respective designs, like yeah EW's pacing was iffy too but it at least had a lot more going on in it to justify it, DT is just grasping at straws by comparison). and in that sense it winds up being a lot more like ARR, where it's just kind of lost in what it's trying to do and creates a worse experience by the end. hopefully like with ARR back in the day the devs will figure out it's time to shake things up and try something new without using the old as a crutch.

#also yeah sorry past me but wuk lamat actually does really suck in the long run #or rather what the writers are doing with her sucks #i don't mind an optimistic character but it's a little much when her optimism is forced in everywhere to the point it becomes self-absorbed #she very much feels like a self-insert black hole sue #she's just there to be the ultimate hero for everyone regardless of whether or not it even makes sense #it's kinda cute in the beginning but it gets old REAL fast esp in the last half of the MSQ when she has no business being everyone's hero #there's just zero nuance or subtlety to her character and the writing throughout the whole story #the story's progression feels like a series of cue cards that say shit like “this is the moral of the story!” and “please cry now :(”#final fantasy xiv #dawntrail spoilers #ff xiv

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beeshoesometimesdraws · 1 month

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You know, I think one of the biggest reasons I love The Last Guardian so much is how tragic and bittersweet the story is.

The boy has journeyed for who knows how many days with Trico, and at the very start he even says that, even though he probably should, he has no fear of Trico—the very creature his people know only as a man eating beast. Even when Trico gives him good reason to fear it, he does not and sticks by the beast’s side.

The two stick together nearly the whole time, the bond that Trico develops and shares with the boy creating a mutual understanding of their shared goal as they help each other progress through the ruins. Trico could have tried to leave the boy behind at any time, perhaps even found his own way forward without help—though it’s apparent Trico needs the boy as much as the boy needs it—but it doesn’t. Instead, Trico follows the boy every step he takes, going as far as to mimic his movements and call out sadly to the boy whenever it is left behind, and several times Trico puts its own life on the line to save the boy.

Trico charges forward to save the boy from the suits of armor, even though they slash at it with swords and stick it with spears. Trico fights others of its kind—even when it’s vastly outnumbered—to save the boy. Trico even overcame its terrible fear of the eyes in order to save the boy and pushed back against the force trying to control it. All for the boy.

I don’t think it was just about them having a mutual goal and needing each other to get out though that was a big part of it, at least not in the end. Trico and the boy share a bond, it’s clear to see no matter if you’ve played the game yourself or have watched gameplays. Trico loves the boy and the boy loves Trico. They’ve gone so far together, faced so many setbacks and fought so many battles and both have played chicken with death several times all for the sake of the other. That kind of bond is something special, one that can last a lifetime and more.

Their bond and this story however is bittersweet.

At the end of the game, Trico takes the weakened boy back to his village, finally having healed his wings enough to fly. The roles have been reversed from the beginning—it is Trico taking care of the weakened boy just like how the boy took care of him at the start. The villagers surround Trico and stick it with spears but the beast refuses to leave because its loyalty and love to the boy are stronger than whatever fear it feels.

Trico refuses to leave until the boy tells it to. The boy who has no other choice than to send his companion, his friend, away because he knows there is no other way; the other villagers are afraid of Trico, the “man eating beast”, and would kill it if it stayed. So, the boy sends Trico away.

The way Trico pauses and stares at the boy as he commands it to leave in this scene, and then in the next how it stares at the boy for one long moment before taking flight and finally leaving hurts. Trico doesn’t want to leave but Trico wants to listen to the boy, and perhaps on some level Trico also understands that it cannot stay.

The game jumps to the present; The boy grows into a man and Trico has created its own life back within The Nest from which it and the boy escaped years before. The boy has never forgotten Trico, the whole game being a past experience narrated by the man, a story he fondly retells to the children of the village. They may be miles and miles apart, may never see each other ever again, but that bond still runs deep and with it the love they share. Man and beast, Trico and the boy.

The Last Guardian is my favorite game of all time for a reason, and it’s not just Trico itself or the beauty of the graphics and animation or the amazing ai behind the creature. The story of the game is so interesting and beautiful in such a bittersweet and tragic way that every time I think about it, it twists something in my gut, like a painful bout of nostalgia. I imagine it’s the kind of thing the boy must feel every time he thinks about Trico and the journey they made together.

#bee talks #bee rambles #the last guardian #the last guardian trico #tlg trico #tlg the boy #the boy the last guardian #the last guardian has my whole heart #it’s such a beautiful game #and it’s one of those things I wish I could experience for the first time again #I love stories with tragic and bittersweet endings #even if they hurt like a bitch #I just really needed to word vomit about this because it’s been plaguing my mind #tlg spoilers #the last guardian spoilers

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foggynitefic · 6 months

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Drop Them Bones Chapter 9: Hard and Fast

This one's a doozy...

Hard and Fast

To be sure of, without a doubt, without debate History: In seafaring times, the term ‘hard and fast’ was used to describe a vessel that was beached on land and unable to be moved. [Don’t lie. Absolutely none of us thought it meant that. None of us.]

So, funny thing. Since posting Chapter 8, I had a wonderful long weekend in Manhattan, followed by the worst stomach flu I’ve gotten in at least a decade. Then, after a few weeks recovering from that, I partially dislocated my knee and sprained my MCL. Full damage assessment still TBD in a couple months, but I have a care plan for now.

What I’ve posted as Chapter 9 was supposed to be ten pages max plus additional scenes, and then this happened. So, I have 6k words of Chapter 10 already because I split Chapter 9 in half, and I’ve had the final scene in Chapter 10 (originally intended for Chapter 6, hah!) written for the last three months…

I currently have 9 more chapters planned out, but as this adventure has shown me, that’s more like guidelines. This chapter would have been out sooner, but reference above, and in retrospect, this chapter’s title also describes me in seafaring times right now…

Notes

At least I’m recuperating and back to excessive research spiraling:

If you have the equipment, time, and inclination, you too can om a gator nom. I have only ever outsourced my gator dining experience to trustworthy restaurants, because I’m happy to compensate people accordingly for their labor and gator meat is fucking expensive to have shipped up north.

I’ve mostly encountered alligator fried or in etouffees in restaurants, and if you can’t source alligator or just think they’re too cute to eat (look at them faces!), they do taste like a fishy chicken, but less swampy than frog, and have the consistency of a pork chop. So, imo, you can substitute either white chicken meat or pork to about the same effects in all the recipes except the whole smoked gator. Alligator meat is very lean and easy to dry out, though (flashbacks to straw-like fried, breaded nonsense on that one trip to Florida…) The Daily Beast has an article from 2019 that goes into more detail on taste, etc. I’m not going to link to any of the butchering videos I watched to make this fic, but if you’re interested, deermeatfordinner on Youtube has a good one.

And yes, in true Louisiana fashion, the state government does have an alligator cookbook available in PDF for free. The final page notes that funds for it came from both Florida and Louisiana, and the most approximate publication date I can find for it is 1994. Its text, graphics, and ingredients definitely look like something from the 80s or 90s…

I was not tracking that discarded crocodile and alligator fat can be used to produce biodiesel at competitive prices…

I went down a lot of interesting 1700-1800s sailing history that involved the provisions given per day to British Navy sailors, how much salt was needed to brine 100 lbs of meat, and how the brining process actually worked (floating eggs and meats, oh my!) The average alligator yields about 40 lbs of meat, so all the proportions and weights for applegators came from multiplying that by three, then adding on more layers of fat than an alligator would have because applegators can also go out in the deep sea. Yes, I know this is a fanfic for fantasy pirates on an imaginary planet. If Oda-sensei can say they’re all stronger because gravity, I can make chonky applegators.

Curing meat Wikipedia article; Quora entry (of all things) on sailor provisions; Colonies, Ships and Pirates blog; and an NIH paper with some science of curing meats; plus a definition of pellicle; and some historical pre-refrigeration context. Salting meat Wikipedia article and smoking meat Wikipedia article. And of course, once the fancy bougie restaurants start using salt water, it’s cool again.

If you don’t have a smoker at home, here’s a stove-top smoked salmon recipe that could work with any type of fish (though, I don’t think a sweet cure would really go with white fish).

How to dehydrate food without a dehydrator ideas

Making a ground oven: I actually learned about this technique back in anthropology of food, as it’s one of the oldest cooking methods that we know of, and I’ve always wanted to try it. Darn you, local fire ordinances.

Random fandom trivia: If you’re a fan of 911 Lone Star, you may remember the first (I think) season episode of a family ground cooking in their backyard and their racist neighbor being a dick about it then getting a righteous comeuppance from the team. Is it over the top justice? Yes. Is the drama hilarious? Also, yes.

They use a technique in this chapter that I based off a New England clambake set up. Mainly, a pit on the beach with seaweed, hot rocks, and a wet sail over top, covered with sand. General bake concepts and times came from here (if you can read it through that horrible font…)

Sustainably harvesting seaweed. Modern Farmer has a pretty informative newsletter I’ve been subscribed to for a couple years – It’s an interesting read if you’re into agriculture news (food-related technology, regulations, innovations, etc.) and like to know more about your food supply chain.

I didn’t know how to make sausage before. Behold, basic sausage tutorial!

Recipes bludgeoned in the making of this chapter:

I have never cooked gator meat or a whole pig, but here are recipes that sound like horrifying fun:

Whole Smoked Gator

But also, whole pig ground cooked

Kalua Pork

Alligator Jerky

Songs:

#one piece #one piece live action #zosan #opla #straw hat crew #drop them bones #drop them bones notes #foggynite #Spotify #SoundCloud

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literallyanyname · 1 year

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Banana Fish Rec List

Here's a list of my favorite Bfish fics. I adore whump, so quite a few of the recs skew in that direction. Because Banana Fish whump tends to be particularly intense, I highly, highly recommend checking the tags and content warnings of each fic before reading. These aren't arranged in any particular order. Enjoy!

Love Letters by labingi

Status: Complete, 31,106 words

My Summary: Ash survives the stabbing by Lao, and goes to prison. He and Eiji exchange letters, and eventually emails, for several decades.

My Thoughts: This is one of the most nuanced, in-character BF fics out there. It is, at times, as painful as canon, but with a deeply satisfying ending. This work is a beyond gorgeous take on the BF characters. Probably my favorite on this list. Also, it is technically a Death Note crossover, but it honestly really isn't. DN elements are only mentioned a few times as a plot device.

Just Offscreen by @chaoslynx

Status: Complete, 6,728 words

My Summary: Foxx doesn't drop the cigarette in front of Ash. Foxx's men torture Ash, and he is eventually rescued by Eiji and Max.

My Thoughts: Read the tags on this one. Even for BF, it's pretty graphic. It's a really good fic though. It explores the implied elements of Banana Fish in explicit detail, and brings to the surface some of the underlying horror of canon. One common problem I see with fics and fiction generally is the tendency to use graphic subjects as a cheap shock factor. This fic does not do that. It handles the subject matter really well, and Ash's stream-of-consciousness POV is expertly done.

Eat the Elephant and its sequel, How To Walk Through Open Doors by Dodici

Status: Complete

My Summary: Ash makes it to Japan, and finds himself a little in over his head. Eiji is there to take care of him.

My Thoughts: Honestly, I really like the prose. It's really well written and the language just naturally reads like Ash's internal monologue. He says, does, and feels things without really understanding or bothering to think about why he does them in this way. The author captures Ash's perspective really well. Also, love me some realistic Eiji. I have a particular fondness for fics that flesh out Eiji's character even more than canon does. (Honestly, I get really hung up on characterization. I will usually stop reading an OOC fic)

I'll Save Myself by kanekki

Status: Complete, 30,324 words

My Summary: Instead of arriving at Dino's mansion the next day, Ash doesn't show up until about a month later. Eiji and Yut-Lung are held captive during that time. Continues until a little after the ending of the show.

My Thoughts: This is one of my personal whump favorites. Eiji undergoes a major personality shift that feels entirely realistic. He is still very much Eiji, but his time as a captive has deeply lasting effects. He also learns Yut-Lung's skill with needles, which is just cool. Also, Ash as sporadic-and-inexperienced-but-determined caretaker is an added bonus. The gang element is something of a side plot, but it's well developed. This fic really reminds me of the scene in episode 2 where Eiji is about to jump the wall and says something like "I'd rather die trying".

porgi, amor, qualche ristoro by ADreamingSongbird

Status: Complete, 18,763 words

My Summary: Ash has a very severe panic attack. Eiji comforts him through it.

My Thoughts. THIS FIC. This. Fic. It does something to me, honestly. It is just so, so tender and sweet. It's really well-written and a truly breathtaking insight into AshEiji's relationship post-canon. I reread it fairly often. The discussions of SA are handled very carefully and sensitively. Ash and Eiji are both well-written. The large volume of physical comfort feels like catharsis after canon's minimal and scattered touches, but it feels realistic. Like Ash would actually be comfortable with it in this context. It's hard to summarize exactly how much I love this fic.

Offset by superbrightsunset

Status: Complete, 3,859

My Summary: 5+1 about Eiji's physical strength as an athlete.

My Thoughts: Short, but very sweet. I love the caretaking in this fic. The style is very similar to the comfort aspects of Bfish canon. It's a good read for a quick AshEiji fix. Also, Shorter! And a light sprinkling of humor!

Save Me The Waltz (Alternate) by crowsnest

Status: Complete, 12,181 wrods

My Summary: Eiji is bfished instead of Shorter.

My Thoughts: This fic stuck in my brain for several weeks. Ash, Eiji, and Shorter all have to really go through it, but it is immensely satisfying for all three to come out alive and mostly whole in a way that seems realistic. This AU spans a few years, and leaves a lot of possible scenes to the reader's imagination. I really enjoyed reading this, especially the caretaking aspect.

Drugstore Cowboy by suffragettecity

Status: Complete, 2,048 words

My Summary: Ash goes to Shorter for a brief respite.

My Thoughts: I am in love with the atmosphere in this fic. It's uniquely platonic-ShorAsh. It's a fairly short one-shot, but the language is very immersive. There are little pieces of information scattered throughout that are deliberately unexplained, leaving the reader to make connections on their own. Overall a good read.

Okay. I might add more to this later. There are other fics I really like, but am too tired to rec. If anyone has any fics they want to share, please do!

(Also, I'm new to Tumblr and don't know the authors' tumblrs. Please tag them if you do. And if anyone wants their fic removed, please let me know and I will.)

#banana fish #ash lynx #eiji okumura #shorter wong #asheiji #fic rec #fanfic rec #rec list #bfish

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mythicamagic · 2 months

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have you played Love and Deepspace and what is your review on it??

Hello! Yes I have. It's sitting in my homescreen right now on my phone.

I think my opinions on it might be quite mixed or controversial? So just bare that in mind before reading.

I've played a looot of otomes. I think I started playing them in 2009. I can very much say that LADS is a unique experience. It's not like anything I've ever played before in terms of graphics, cinematography and interaction with your fictional boyfriends.

The Great:

I think the interface and design is really nice in certain aspects (the combat is a bit iffy). This is a very pretty game imo. Also can I just say, having a customisable MC is really great! I like that you can change not just her skintone but her voice settings as well. I also just- LOVE the 4 and 5 star cards content. They hold some examples of lovely scenarios written with care, and some good ole fanservice to boot as a treat. Whoever does the lighting for the 5* cards does a marvellous job, as the animations really feel 'alive' sometimes. Great direction with using the MC as the POV so the 'camera' swings or moves closer according to how she's reacting. Love that.

The LIs:

I think having a varied cast is important in otomes but a common vibe or theme can often be shared between their contrasting personalities. For Piofiore its mafia/crime lords and domestic life, for Cafe Enchante cosy coffeeshop vibes. With Love and Deepspace I'd say its cosy vibes mixed with action, mixed with angst. The cast supports this, with all of them having serious or sweet sides. I am definitely not drawn to some of them, but that's okay! I think anyone going in new should know they won't like everyone and that's common for otome. What I find uninteresting might be wonderful to someone else and vice versa. I will say Sylus took the spot as my favourite and he has a very different vibe to the others even when he's doing cosy domestic stuff. I very much enjoy his scenes and how dynamic they feel (also its really nice the whole cast is in their twenties)

The Bad:

The worst casualty in Love and Deepspace is...the main story. I can't overstate how much of a confusing, poorly written and badly executed mess the main story is. In terms of setup, establishing lore, world building and stakes, it somewhat limps from one chapter to another. Scenes can begin and end abruptly with plot threads seemingly dropped. Secrets can often be intriguing, yes- but by continually withholding answers the game can get a bit frustrating. As a new player with no knowledge of the game, I didn't understand why Rafayel kept referring to himself as a fish during the crane game and kitty card mini games. It was like they were referencing something that hadn't happened yet in game, so I was like - okay, I'll wait. I'm sure it'll be explained (spoilers: it was not explained).

Essentially if you want backstory and context to the boys you NEED their cards to unlock their content, and I'm not a huge fan of that. I think the main story should still at least give you a bit more to work with about the boys. (This is especially bad when the lore is locked behind gacha luck). And I get that the whole story is space/time themed but sincerely I did not know the world of Love and Deepspace was capable of casual space travel until I read Sylus' anecdote story. This is not good worldbuilding. Sure it throws loads of terminology at you but you'll have to read the notes yourself to understand what they are. It's a lot of telling and not showing. For an example of how this could've been done: Cowboy Bebop is about bounty hunters in space. It has scenes of them...in space. You're telling me someone as rich as Sylus, who offers MC to go on his motorbike, yacht, and private jet, wouldn't offer her a circle around the planet in his spaceship? Idk it feels like a lot of worldbuilding details have been overlooked.

There is also the issue of voice acting. This can again come down to personal preference but in general I always give English Dubs a fair chance, and enjoy many of them. Voice acting has come a long way since the wooden performances of older animes and games. That said, many of the boys, especially in the earlier chapters and content sound extremely flat. This goes double for the NPCs (who can be laughably bad). It's not even a matter of 'oh this person is just reading lines with no emotion' no the inflections in their voice are off- the context of what they're supposed to be emoting to can feel a million miles off base. I barely felt like they were in the scene with me. That said - this was likely a voice direction issue, because more recent content allows the boys to sound more relaxed and involved in the scene. Sylus' English VA knocks it out of the park in his performance though and I really appreciate how much he embraced that role. A lot of people could get embarrassed having to voice ASMR type content but he got fully immersed so 10/10 for that. I haven't tried any other languages apart from Japanese but c'mon, we know the Japanese VAs are like celebrities over there and will crush any role so no notes there except they're all great.

TLDR:

With all that said I do not hate the game, I really enjoy it! (I wouldn't have ranted so much here if I didn't care) I just wish certain aspects were tightened up more for storytelling purposes. It feels a bit jarring when some aspects of the game are SUPER polished but then easy mistakes are made. So I'd say if you're interested in playing - to just embrace the fluff and spicy fanservice. Treat it as your main meal as I do. If you end up enjoying the main story and combat then that's a bonus! I really hope this game continues to be successful because their recent content and chapter has been super intriguing - and in general its just nice to have an otome reach the spot of 3rd highest grossing mobile game during some months (below the giants like Genshin and HSR)

#love and deepspace #LADS

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orionsangel86 · 1 year

Text

Subtext Glorious Subtext! A Dreamling on Netflix analysis in The Sandman - Part 5

1789

How romantic it is to be defended by ones love!

My favourite century! This is where the show starts deviating more heavily from the comic and upping the heat on the subtext (probably why it remains a popular century in fandom especially for gifsets).

Firstly, the show makes some good choices by changing certain elements in order to increase character likeability, which I think were necessary tbh. In the show, Hob mentions getting into a “new trade” regarding shipping and slavery. He describes the process to Dream and is immediately scorned for it via the “poor thing” line. In the show, it is implied that Hob’s involvement in the Slave Trade is something new for him. Dream is immediately dismissive and judgemental of this (as we would expect any decent person to be). Hob initially defends himself “It’s just how its done.” but agrees to consider Dream’s advice.

This is not how either the comic or the Audible audiobook go and honestly, I was surprised.

In both comic and audiobook, Hob brags about the slave trade. He talks gleefully about actually having a hand in starting it 200 years back. He’s proud of this. He’s completely repugnant in both comic and audiobook and it makes you want to punch him hard. Dream only makes the following comment: “You take pride in treating your fellow humans as less than animals?” but he is otherwise not dismissive or disgusted by these things. He is not judgemental, just curious and surprised. When Hob dismisses this question as it being “business”, Dream drops the topic. It isn’t until the very end of the scene after Johanna’s interuption that Dream tells Hob its “a poor thing...” and that is where both comic and audiobook leave it without giving Hob’s reaction to this line.

You can see why the show made the wise decision to change these things. I think it is another example of where the show is taking the story and characters in a softer, kinder, and more likeable direction. We have to remember that the show versions of Dream and Hob are NOT their comic counterparts. Both comic characters are unlikeable at times and Hob in particular is just generally a pretty shitty person. It is difficult to marry the two versions of Hob sometimes because Ferdie gives SUCH a likeable, warm, engaging performance. Yes, Show!Hob is still a slaver for a short while, and yes, that is absolutely not forgiveable and fandom would be wise to ensure that this is never downplayed or ignored, but I think it is worth mentioning that the show has made the decision to lessen his involvement in the slave trade compared to his comic counterpart. But we shall see where they decide to go with this particularly nasty part of show!Hob's history in future episodes.

I think the show in many ways is taking a more classical view of the Sandman characters - here are your good guys and here are your bad guys, here are the people we want you to love and root for, and here are the ones you should love to hate. The comic tends to keep the majority of characters in the middle ground of morally grey. They have a rather cynical viewpoint imo that works for a gritty graphic novel about a depressed eldritch entity. But that viewpoint wouldn't work so well in a high budget fantasy drama series with a desire to draw in as big an audience as possible.

Anyway, back to 1789. Aside from Tom and Ferdie acting like they want to climb each other all the way through this scene (the sexual tension is through the roof throughout), all of fandoms favourite elements here are new.

Whilst Hob does ask for Dream’s name again here in the comics, there is no response or reaction from Dream given before Lady Johanna interrupts them. In the show, it is clear that Dream is about to give an answer - Hob almost gets his name. This is - tropey. The interruption may be comic canon but the almost response to the answer you’ve been craving for 400 years isn’t. A brilliant little addition. The audience is on the edge of their seats wishing Dream would just tell Hob who he is dammit! It adds to the expectation that eventually Hob will get his name. Dream's identity reveal at this point is basically a Chekov's gun. Hob will get it, even if we don't see it happen.

Then we get the fight. There is no rambling from Hob about some Jack Constantine he knew, instead he is calmly making flirtatious jokes at Dream right in front of Lady Johanna’s salad. “I look terrible, you look worse.” The terrible drawing from 1689 is new for the show, as in the comic it is simply a description of the 1689 meeting that Johanna found. Making it a portrait instead gives the characters something to react to, and I do love how bad the caricatures are in the drawing. Though sorry Hob, but anyone can see that Dream absolutely does not look worse than you, and your teasing flirtations are kinda obvious.

The two characters share catty side eye glances in silent communication as Lady Johanna talks which indicates how close and comfortable with each other they have become by this century.

When Hob jumps up to attack the thugs, he goes for the one with the knife at Dream’s throat first. Hob gets to be an action movie star for a short moment whilst Dream looks up at him in subtle delight. It’s glorious.

AND THEN Dream ONLY makes a move once he sees Lady Johanna has her blade at Hob’s throat.

In the comic, the minute the thugs get their blades out and Lady Johanna threatens them, Dream is like nope! Magic sand! Poof!

But the show, oh the glorious, brilliant, creators on the show, decided this was going to be a “partners defending each others lives” scene. They want to protect and defend each other! They care about each other.

And then we get this:

GIF by ghorestes

Dream. Darling. Sweetheart. He may not have needed to, but you enjoyed it nevertheless.

“Clearly. Still, I didn’t want to be drinking here alone in 100 years time.”

GIF by mrskillingjoke

(Thank you to all gifmakers by the way I am kissing you on the mouth for the gifts you give us)

LOOK AT HIM. We all obsess over these little moments I know, but this is CLEAR flirtation.

If there is a better example of *eye fucking* anywhere outside of a season 4 Destiel scene I have yet to come across it.

It doesn’t even stop there. Because right after the best example of *eye fucking* I have seen since season 4 Destiel is an honest to god proposition.

Hob: "So do you want to find another pub tonight?"

Dream: "She may have told others about our meeting. It wont be safe for you."

Hob: "Im perfectly safe. I can't die remember?"

Dream: "Aye, but you can be hurt or captured. We must be careful"

Hob: “Always.”

NONE OF THIS IS IN THE COMIC.

So what new info has the show given us with this scene?

On a surface level, Hob wants more time with Dream. He wants to find another pub to continue their date.

On a subtextual level, Hob is full of adrenaline from the fight and the mystery man he’s been obsessing over for 400 years is looking at him like he wants to jump his bones. He wants to find another place so they can continue their date, and possibly fuck until the adrenaline has worn off.

On a surface level, Dream cares about Hob’s safety. He doesn’t want them being seen together together outside of the tavern to draw attention to anymore of Lady Johanna’s goons.

On a subtextual level. This is 1789 Hob and they hang men for doing what you very clearly want to do, and it’s not safe with the additional attention Lady Johanna and her goons have put onto you. If I go with you now, they could follow and find us in more compromising positions. Don’t risk it.

In the comic at this point, I would argue that Hob is still nothing more than a curiosity to Dream. He does not show him any real affection or care, and certainly doesn’t comment on his safety at any point. Whilst comic!Hob at this point is clearly itching for more info on Dream, he doesn’t ever push for it, and he is never as focused on Dream as he is talking about other people he’s met and interacted with. They are barely friends.

But by 1789 in the show, we have genuine care for each other, camaraderie, a growing friendship, and arguably sexual attraction.

The other point to note is something I only realised after answering this ask the other day. Comic!Dream has never had anyone else truly care about him enough to rescue him or come to his defence since Alianora (and he basically married her). When Hob defends Dream in the show, its so impactful to Dream because this is a version of Hob who truly cares about him enough to endanger himself (a trait comic!Hob never shows). No wonder Dream looked so pleased and acted so coy about it. He really was ready to pounce!

Basically 1789 is the turning point century. The point at which the show starts to lean heavily into homoerotic tropes and increases the tension. In this century we get:

An almost name reveal followed by an unwanted interuption

Amused side eye glances at each other sharing unspoken communication

Flirtatious jabbing over a bad drawing

Defending each other from harm

Putting themselves at risk in defence of the other

A thinly veiled proposition

Genuine concern and care from a character that never appeared to care previously

Ridiculously over the top eye fucking

All of which adds up to further the audiences investment in the continued development of this relationship whether romantically or platonically and which therefore makes the break up in 1889 even more impactful.

The analysis continues for 1889 in part 6!

#Dreamling #dreamling meta #the sandman #sandman meta #dreamling week #dreamling week 2023 #dream of the endless #hob gadling #sandman comic spoilers

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adultish-momma · 1 year

Text

Unsolicited Scrapbook

Listen, if it'd been your first time in front of a good mirror in quite a bit of time, and you'd gone through some pretty messed up shit, you'd be in an introspective mood too.

Or better yet, Yuu catches sight of their reflection and well, reflects.

Warning: Gore, graphic description of wounds, description of violence (enough to get the idea of how those wounds were formed), descriptions of scars and scarring. If it relates to scars and/or wounds and you can be triggered by it, it's probably in here.

A/N: This was one of the first ideas I came up with for this rewrite au. Not this scene exactly, but this concept. This is a game about villains. This is a game that has so much potential to cover dark material. I. Want. Consequences. This is the result. Enjoy.

Admittedly, it was... well it was a lot.

They hadn't truly been faced with this problem before, with the busted mirrors around the dorm that they haven't found the spare change to replace. And it's just been getting so cold that even the thought of running around in anything considered short sends shivers down their spine. So for one reason or another, they've gone half a school year, a whole semester, and now four overblots, without ever having to see a ton of their skin at once.

But now they're at the Scarabia dorm, in this bone-melting heat, faced with a literal wall of gold polished so well it's more reflective than the Dark Mirror, and they'd sooner eat Grimm's tail fire with a side of his fancy cat tuna than even attempt to slip on anything resembling a sleeve.

And they've somehow gone half a school year, a whole semester, and now four overblots without having to face the fact that this was a lot of scarring.

The newest one is, obviously, the worst. Objectively speaking. It's barely scabbed over, still raw and red and swollen, still throbbing, still hot to the touch. Four deep puncture wounds surround their right shoulder, the viper's fangs leaving a perfect imprint of its jaws. Surprisingly enough, this was the only wound an overblotted student had given them that didn't require a trip to the infirmary. The inky venom in their veins had disappeared the moment the overblot was defeated, and most students from the Scalding Sands know how to treat snake bites.

Kalim was very insistent he patch them up personally. He also insisted they let the wound be exposed to the water of the oasis, hence why they've removed his very professional wrap job.

And if seeing the physical evidence of what he did humbles Jamil even the tiniest amount, well they aren't going to complain about that.

At least they look a bit more balanced now with Jamil's contribution to the collection of scars they're beginning to possess. Before the winter break, a small part of them had felt a bit lopsided. True, the scars from Leona's Unique Magic had drastically decreased from their original size right after his overblot. But the patch of lightning strike scars cracking along the skin of their left shoulder and upper arm messed with their overall symmetry. At least now there was something on either side of their neck, although the part of them that seems to care about this (like seriously why does this matter scars are bad things to have wtf brain) will have to ignore the difference in size.

(That'd go over well. 'Hey, Jamil I need you to make your hair do the inky viper thing again and bite me some more so my scars are more equal in size'. Mentally scar the poor guy some more why don't you Yuu.)

The scar that surprises them is the necklace of circles that, well, encircle their throat. The bruising after their fight with Azul had been gnarly, splotches of deep purples and blues mixed with sickly yellows and greens. Deep indents in the shape of octopi suckers among the clear shape of tentacles wrapped around their throats encouraged the early emergence of turtlenecks and scarves into their wardrobe. By the time the bruising had begun to disappear, they'd genuinely needed to cover their neck to fight off the cold, so this is the first time they'd gotten a good look at their neck in a long while.

Hmm. Maybe it's a good thing that Azul's attempt to strangle them left a scar in such a visible place. Maybe next time Azul tries to pull some shady business, they'll rock up to the Mostro Lounge in something low-cut.

Sevens knows Leona only became so cooperative (if you can call it that) during that whole Octavinille debacle because he got an eyeful of all the bandages they were still required to wear lest Professor Crewel literally whip them for disobedience.

Although, if they're being honest, there is one scar they are dreading for people to see. Everyone knows about the other three, at least everyone at the oasis knows about all three. The bandages were too hard to hide, and they all witnessed what happened with Jamil. But they've managed to hide the two scars on their left thigh ever since their first week in this world.

The thing about entry and exit wounds, is they don't scar like you would expect. You would think they'd scar over fairly flat, but they don't. They don't ever fill in correctly, your skin remembers the folding in on itself that it has to do when something pierces it, and your skin remembers exploding outward when something exits it. But the wounds where Riddle's thorn had staked their thigh and left a hollow straight through their leg had easily been covered by pants all year. Only those who had been there for that battle had seen the true damage done by the enraged Roseheart.

But unlike everyone else who they have helped overcome an Overblot, Yuu has watched Riddle Rosehearts actively try to change his ways, learn from his mistakes, and take some personal accountability for the havoc he wreaked. So they kept the scar he gave them hidden, not wanting to remind others, Riddle, or even themself of just how dangerous he could be.

And now, because, again, they'd rather lick Crowley's desk than entertain the thought of pants in this insufferable desert heat, now that scar was going to be on display. They were going to get questions. They were going to have to relive that memory, that phantom pain over and over again.

They were going to have to relive all of those memories again.

The ripping sensation, the heavy feeling of something foreign, the absolute gushing of blood. The dry cracking, the peeling, the flaking apart at the literal seams. The threat of bones snapping, the drowning on dry land, the fear of a lung collapsing. The fire of acid in your veins, the teeth tearing flesh, the invasive screaming in their head.

All of it. Every time someone saw their scars, every time someone asked a stupid question, every time they saw someone else stuck in their own memories of Yuu's scars, they'd be stuck reliving all of that pain again.

With a heavy sigh, already feeling the exhaustion running through their every fiber, they finally drag their eyes away from their own reflection. The first thing they see is Grimm. Looking at them. Looking at their scars. A haunted, faraway look in his eyes.

Well, that settles it. Something must be done about these nuisances. Sooner rather than later.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #rewrite au #rewrite lore #Yuu is involved in overblot fights #and these are the consequences #i will gladly answer any questions comments concerns #this is the most fleshed out idea of this au and i don't feel like i did it justice #Mirrors are Never to be Trusted

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metanarrates · 1 year

Note

im going to start reading orv. i don't know a thing about it but I feel like I should seek out some kind of advice... 😳

you've come to the correct autistic tumblr user!

my first bit of advice is that orv IS a very long novel (ending at around 1.1 million words.) that can understandably be a little intimidating for a lot of people, so i often recommend the webtoon as an easier alternative. it's lacking quite a bit of nuance and has issues characterizing both kim dokja and yoo joonghyuk, but it's a pretty decent adaptation and can work as a good starting point to familiarize someone with the story.

if you're someone who doesn't mind reading a lot of words, that's great! my advice if you're reading the novel, then, would be that you should pay a little more attention to the narration and characters than you might in another work. kim dokja's an unreliable narrator in quite interesting ways, but that can be easy to miss early on if you're not looking for it.

i would also really recommend looking up any korean mythology and history the novel brings up if you're not already familiar with it! the novel deals hugely in myth/history as a key part of its plot, and since it's a korean novel, that naturally means that a lot of the plot relevant mythology/history is also korean. you'll end up a little lost if you don't give at least a cursory google search whenever something unfamiliar comes up in the novel.

also, if you're the kind of person who does take weeks or months to finish a long novel (understandable) I would recommend keeping little notes on the plot or anything that sticks out to you as you read. this is INCREDIBLY optional, but it can be very useful to go back and refresh your memory on what's happening every once in a while! orv is written in such a way that seemingly minor details seeded throughout can end up becoming the thrust of an entire arc 100+ chapters after first being introduced, so it's fun to keep track of what gets brought up and how it evolves.

i'm still working on making a more specific trigger list, but it's important to note that a huge thematic element of the novel is suicide and suicidal ideation, so that's going to be frequently important in the overall work. it's also a novel set during an apocalypse, so death, violence, and (usually rather non-graphically described, though there are moments) gore are also frequently onscreen. a few characters are either victims of or threatened with sexual violence, there's a plot-relevant instance of offscreen pet death, and there is also a very blatantly transmisogynistic scene in one chapter. (link to post detailing the chapter it occurs in. thankfully it's pretty easily skippable.) i might have missed a few things, but those are the major ones.

here's the english translation of the novel and good luck reading! my inbox and dms are always open to hear people chat about orv :]

#narrates #orv #love posting such good propaganda that longtime followers decide to check it out. sickos yes dot jpeg

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dotieeee · 2 years

Text

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 15

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

no spoilers, so just read at your own risk lol

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 15: Your King's Wish

"His name is Sumnio."

The Corinthian drains his cup and sets it back down. "He's a shapeshifter, just like you were, but he's brutal. Almost makes my time worthwhile," he muses quite gleefully.

You listen intently to what he has to say, seeing as it has been a long time since you've been in the sea of dreams yourself, and you miss it more than anything. Absent-mindedly, you pick up a sweet from the table and take a large bite, only to gag on it and spit it out.

"Ugh, cinnamon. Awful stuff. Continue, sorry," you mumble, placing the sweet back on your platter. "'Doubt', huh? What kind of doubt does he, uh, inspire?"

"All of it," he says, maintaining the same look of maniacal cheer. "But what I've seen…well, let's just say, his work has devastating effects. I know you'd appreciate good work when you see one. And boy, the damage he does is almost irreparable."

So it seems like he is having fun with the new Nightmare, he just doesn't want to admit it. Raising your eyebrows at the conclusion you've formed, you remark, "Glad to hear you still enjoy watching others suffer. So what is it about his work that gives you such a hard-on?"

"Well, he's been causing a ruckus lately. Nasty breakups," he says with a wide grin, slouching against his chair and lighting a cigarette. "So far, he's down to four, and with the same person, too."

"What the fuck?"

"Oh, it was a sight to behold," the Corinthian seems to recall fondly with a laugh.

Narrowing your arms, at him, you tease, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you fancied the nightmare, my dear old Nightmare, and friend."

He just shakes his head with a chuckle, wagging his finger at you and saying, "Now, don't go giving me any ideas." Straightening his glasses, he says, "And don't think you're out of the woods, either. So answer me this: how come you're still with that royal prick with a royal stick up his ass? What happened to your little fling?"

"What fling?" you ask offhandedly, turning your head to your left as you make out fast-approaching footsteps on the gravel.

"What the fu - you mean you don't -"

"M'lady, m'lady!"

The Corinthian is suddenly interrupted by Morwyn's frantic call. You see her sprint towards you, coming to an abrupt stop before you and the table and bowing before stating her piece.

"M'lady," she starts breathlessly, clutching her sides. "Your Majesty, the King of Dreams, requests your presence."

You and your nightmare friend share a look of understanding, before he cocks his head ever so slightly, urging you to give a response.

"Morwyn, I appreciate your effort," you finally respond to your attendant. "But, please tell my King that I must respectfully and politely decline."

Flashing Morwyn a wan smile, you quietly offer her a brownie from the feast on the table, which she shyly accepts with a tiny 'thank you.'

"But, m'lady, he'll be angry at me," she mutters before taking a tentative bite out of the brownie, adding, "He hasn't really been in a good mood lately."

The Corinthian gives you a gloating grin as he takes a drag out of his cigarette. It's a quiet challenge, and one you're not about to back down from.

"That is my doing, I'm afraid. And if he throws a fit, Morwyn, tell him he can come seek me, himself. I'll tell him the same, exact words, too."

But she doesn't make a move and stays standing there awkwardly, shuffling her feet in seeming nervousness.

"You'll be fine, Morwyn, you've done nothing wrong. Look, if it helps, you can say you tried to persuade me to come with you," you say in an assuring manner.

Nodding quietly, she whispers to herself, "Okay, I can do this, I can do this." She turns to you and excuses herself before running back to the palace to give the word to your master, who you imagine won't be too happy you turned him down.

Then again, he was never the type to take any kind of rejection lightly.

The Corinthian takes one final drag out of his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and stomping on it with his oxfords.

"Well, I better get going," he sighs as he gets on his feet. "Thanks for the coffee and the…fine spread you got there," he gestures to the half-finished sweets on the table.

"Where're you going?" you ask him with a pout as you lean on the table with one arm.

"I'm going back to work," he says with a cheeky grin as he straightens his coat. "And I wouldn't want to be caught in the eventual crossfire."

"Fine, go see that lovely little nightmare of yours," you say with just as much sass, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows in the process.

Turning his back, the Corinthian gives you the finger from behind him as he struts out of your sight.

Above you, the skies turn an ominous grey, signaling that Morywn has delivered your message with great success.

***

Dream was beside himself with anger when Morwyn came to him to tell of your rejection, and his foul mood had promptly manifested through a darkening of the skies in his realm, which later turned into a downpour.

He had given you what in his opinion was ample time for yourself and had even chosen to keep his distance, just so you could contemplate the gravity of your last exchange and come to terms with his decision. Obstinately, he stands by his word: he can never reinstate your dreaming abilities until he can fully trust you, which he knows could take time - at least until he's confident that the Chapman has been dealt with thoroughly.

He had been watching you through the eyes of Matthew share stories over coffee for the past few days. Based on the conversations he had overheard, you seemed to have developed some kind of bond with him, and within his heart, he felt jealousy start to slowly creep in; with his nightmare, you were chatty, you were laughing, and, dare he say, you were comfortable with him acting like yourself - something he selfishly wished he could have only to himself. Had he not given you enough reason to be more open around him that you had to always be hungry for the company of someone other than himself?

So, for days on end, he attempted to call upon you, sending your attendant to fetch you for himself, and he finds himself scorned each time, much to his chagrin.

He misses you. Sorely, terribly. He misses having to greet the Dreaming sunrise with your naked form in his arms; he misses kissing your lips and marking your skin; he misses the way you look at him with so much innocence in the presence of others, and how that look would transform to much more heated gazes in the privacy of his chambers; he misses the music you both make as you made love to each other into the wee hours of the night, and the gentle words you share as you bask in the afterglow. Even more so, he misses your wit and your fire, and even in those increasingly rare moments he sees your eyes light up in courage when you stand up to him. He misses you so much that his heart had started to wither away without so much as your presence; he had admittedly been quicker to anger at his subjects with each passing day without you, and now, as he sits on his throne, sulking, he hears once again of your refusal from a terrified Morwyn, whom he's slightly tempted to banish to the darkness just so he could get your attention. Instead, he sends her away without so much as a dark look - he knows it would displease you should you find out he had unmade your faithful attendant despite her innocence.

Once he's certain the throne room is empty save for himself, Dream of the Endless groans audibly in abject frustration. Through the eyes of his raven, he looks on at the scene in one of the palace rooms: his perfect nightmare, getting to his feet to return to his duties, and his perfect dream, you, waving a casual goodbye at your friend, huffing to yourself and donning on a morose expression at the loss of a conversation partner. This bubbling jealousy combined with his growing longing for you isn't doing him, his subjects, and his kingdom any favours. Huffing as you did, he severs his connection with Matthew and withdraws into himself further in deep thought.

You're bored, and he knows it; if you weren't in the library reading whatever books you could get your hands on or in the company of his nightmare, you were in your room by yourself, brooding. As much as he hates to admit it, he hadn't seen you in high spirits in a long time, and he is aware that the only way he could bring you back to your usual self is the one thing he has avoided giving you. One that you had pleaded with him for countless times and that he adamantly refused. Should he relent this time, how could he ensure you don't go seeking that mortal once your abilities are back at full strength? How could he orchestrate this in such a way that you'd be happy with your role and with him that you'd never have to chase your happiness from anyone else save from him?

His kingdom shakes ever-so-slightly at the resounding clap of thunder as Morpheus rubs his forehead in agitation. In need of a distraction, he steps away from his throne and descends the winding staircase, his thoughts drifting to that last time you had tried with your very best to entertain a dreamer who had wandered off that old castle. That child had somehow managed to single-handedly lift your mood when he could not so much as coax even the ghost of a smile from your lips then. Even before he witnessed the way you interacted with the child guests who found their way to your coronation party, he confirmed what he had always known: that you love children, and you have a way with them, just like a mother would.

Without meaning to, flashes of memories he had long since buried invade his thoughts, gnawing away at his cold exterior: that of joyous, ringing laughter echoing the halls of his palace; of a voice singing so wondrously to the tune of strings lovingly plucked from a harp; and of a face that so painfully reminded him of his.

Orpheus.

The mention alone of his son, now reduced to a mere talking head all because he, his own father, had denied him help when he had so desperately called to him, often pushed him into a sullen mood, but oddly enough, it doesn't have as much bite this time around. His imagination goes further, this time painting a picture of a child, a spitting image of him, down to the tufts of hair growing out of his tiny head, except his eyes, which light up the way yours do as his tiny fingers tug your hair with just as much stubbornness as his mother possesses; and you, a vision unlike anything he has ever seen, cuddling the child close to your heart as you lull him to sleep with a lullaby only you could sing.

Imaginary as the scene might be, he tucks it away in his heart and lets it warm him, and his realm, going along with him, rejoices in the first rays of sunlight it has seen in several days.

He had failed as a father once, and this time, redemption seems to call upon him, and with it, the hope of finally giving you the happiness and contentment you need to stay by his side for all time. With a child on the way, there would be no more doubt in your heart about where you truly belong. All you may need is persuasion.

***

With your nightmare friend, you find routine in the following days, chatting about all sorts of dreams and nightmares over coffee or tea, and sweets. Through the Corinthian, you lived your dream of one day being able to visit the sea of dreams again and form inspiration for the dreamers and be you, just as your creator had once intended.

He, too, had become part of this drill of yours. Your Lord, rudely enough in the middle of your conversation with your friend, would send your attendant to fetch you at his behest, and it had been part of your day to refuse the request with the most saccharin of tones. True, you and your company had to move from the gardens to one of the many parlours in the palace when it started raining; it had been a light shower at first, but the rain became heavier as your refusal to see him went on. It was clear he had wanted to give you the space you had needed for so long, but time apart from you seemed to sour his mood.

Not that you cared - as far as you were concerned, his royal moodiness could go fuck himself.

You let out a heavy sigh as you put down the book you've been reading. You've been at it since this late afternoon, having been refused flatly by Lucienne to help sort the new books. The colourful library windows then filtered the light of the setting sun, which somehow chose to appear just as you were beginning to read. Something had brightened your Lord's mood then, and whatever it was didn't seem to bode well for you.

The sun has now fully set, revealing the Dreaming skies' collection of glowing constellations. From your favourite couch, you get up, intent on going back to your chambers to call it a day, but a warning from the Voice makes you freeze in your spot.

Your Lord, in his pale countenance, emerges from among the library shelves with his hands behind his back and makes his way to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"My dream."

You had expected to see him seething in anger given how you had been brushing him off for the past days, not to mention your last conversation which hadn't gone well, but to your surprise and suspicion, his expression is soft, his tone almost pained, as if something is ailing him and he's trying to hide it as best he could.

"I missed you," he whispers, his voice faltering a little with emotion. "It has been seven days since I have…last seen you.

"We need to talk," he adds, his tone begging in the way words couldn't.

You give him the smallest of nods, and his sand engulfs both your forms at once, and when you open your eyes, you're back in his chambers. He doesn't pounce on you as he's always wont to do the moment he gets you alone in his chambers. He simply stands a few feet from you, willing his sand to clear before he states his piece:

"I have decided to restore your dreaming abilities."

Immediately, your eyes shoot up to his starry-blue ones - you must've misheard him, it couldn't be this easy to make him grant your wish…

Right?

"My Lord…are you -?"

"Yes."

You don't know whether to be elated or perplexed, so you settle with both, not knowing what to make of his sudden change of heart.

"Why, my Lord? Why change your mind?" You ask softly with a slight burrowing of your brows.

"Because you will grant me a boon in return."

Your Lord's mysterious words turn resolute all of a sudden - you narrow your eyes in your increasing confusion, and yet his eyes never betray a single emotion except one of absolute staunchness.

"My Lord," you start, carefully choosing your words. "I'm not sure I can give anything you don't already have."

He grins lightly at your words like your answer was one he's expected.

"That is not true. In fact, you are the only one in the Dreaming, and in the universe, that I see fit to grant me my wish."

He takes a few steps closer to you, giving you a full view of those swirling galaxies trapped in his eyes, and like the mere subject you are, you await the words of the otherworldly, godly being before you, transfixed in his beauty.

"I wish for you to bear me life. A child."

And under that celestial gaze of his, you feel your world crumbling and sinking in your gut, and inwardly you fight the urge to be sick before the glow of his eyes.

"No…"

"I understand your hesitation, my dream. But, grant me this, I shall let you roam the sea of dreams once more, and you shall craft dreams of inspiration, just like before," he says with a soft tone, caressing your cheek with his palm in assurance.

Still reeling inwardly from the gravity of his request, you gape at him disbelievingly, letting a few tense moments pass before you find your words.

"My Lord, you didn't give me the capacity for life when you created me," you state, ignoring his other hand running up and down your waist.

But, the tiny smirk on his face tells you he had been expecting this response from you, too.

"You are of my creation, and I can make it so," he declares as he lifts your chin with his fingers. "Our child will inherit the best of you, my dream – your tenacity, your wit, and your passion for my realm. Bear me a child, a son, and I will make him the overseer of all my dreams and nightmares."

Clearly, your Lord and master has been giving this a great deal of thought.

He will use the child to bind you to him further.

But, could you do it? Could you grant him his wish, knowing the Voice is right, and an innocent life may well just be a tool he could use to manipulate you in ways you have yet to discover?

Your Dream Lord's words and his hands wandering to the small of your back and the back of your neck bring you to focus.

"Give me your word now, and I shall grant you what you have been pining for all these months."

"A-and, if…if I ref-refuse?" You stammer, feeling overwhelmed all of a sudden.

His grip on you tightens at your question - the hold he has on your back becomes more insistent, his hand behind your neck almost squeezing. You could see his eyes harden at your hypothetical rejection, once again displaying his inability to accept 'no' for an answer.

"You would deny me, and in turn, deny yourself what you've been yearning for?" He asks incredulously. "I have been watching you and the Corinthian talk about dreams, my Mera, and I sense nothing but longing in these conversations. Now, I will not ask again: bear my child, our child, and you shall be you once more."

But, being able to form dreams again, meeting new dreamers and helping them find their passion, and in turn, themselves - there will be a slew of Ethans and Carries who don't have to live their life an empty shell, and you'd be there to make a difference, no matter how small.

And you'd finally have a purpose besides spreading your legs for him when he pleases - it would be one you wouldn't mind fulfilling for the rest of your eternity in his kingdom.

What is it going to be, Mera?

Yet, your Lord knows he does not have to wait for a response - in fact, he fully encases you in an embrace and locks your lips in a bruising kiss to prove this point. His mouth probes inside yours hungrily, repeatedly rolling his tongue on yours as he lifts your body and makes you instinctively wrap your thighs around his midriff and your arms around his neck. He takes both your intertwined forms to his bed at once without wasting time, and in a flash, both your clothes dissolve into fine grains of sand, which too, disappears at his will. His hands roam your bare form with much urgency while his mouth sucks in your lower lip and gently nips it with his teeth.

He then starts attacking your neck with fervour, alternating between open-mouthed kisses and little bites that sting your skin but bring heat surging between your legs. Your breathing turns fast and shallow as his lips ghost over your ear.

"Seven days I was starved of you," he whispers, his hot breath fanning your ear and making you feel light-headed. "You will make up for it."

Promise or threat: with your Lord, it doesn't matter - he does as he wishes, as always - distracting you from your thoughts are the hands that squeeze your breasts with a force that makes your breath hitch. You could brush away those hands, even try to struggle against the body pressing on yours, but truth be told, you're getting exhausted trying to every time he forces to into bed with him, only for him to have his way in the end.

Is it still worth the struggle?

But you never find the answer - instead what you find is your Lord's finger parting the increasingly wet folds between your thighs as he bites your shoulder with surprising strength, earning a sharp cry from you. Perhaps he sensed your distraction; and no, he couldn't have that, never - not when he's taking you.

Panting heavily, you feel him insert a finger inside you, and your body accepts it readily, making a wet sound as it does. You begin moaning softly with the way his finger pumps in and out of you, and he pulls away to get a full view of you, falling apart in his power.

With a blazing look, he teases, "I have half a mind to let you starve as I did..."

He places a second finger inside your walls, brushing over your spot in the process. You buck your hips against his hand when his thumb presses on your clit, and your head falls back on the pillow.

"Just so I could hear you beg for mercy."

His skilful hands repeatedly brush over your spot while simultaneously massaging your clit, and your hips start meeting his, building up the pleasure, but just when you're almost at your peak, you feel his fingers withdraw.

"My Lord, please…" you sob into your pillow, your hands reaching up to him in despair.

"Eager, aren't we? Will you admit you were longing for my touch as well, my dream?"

With a whimper you look up at his face - he wears a smug expression as if he's found the answer to his question, but it was far from the truth and you know it in your heart.

"And from now on, you will call me by my name, especially in the confines of our chambers. Now tell me what it is you seek."

He parts your legs further with one hand while the other softly caresses your cheek, and once more a whimper passes through your lips. You feel him align his hardened length at your entrance, but he doesn't push.

But your body couldn't wait any longer.

"Please, Lord Morpheus, torture me no more," you beg softly, meeting his anxious eyes. "I want you inside me."

And without wasting time, he buries himself fully inside your core to the hilt, its suddenness making you release a strangled noise, but as he withdraws his cock and pushes it back in, you find relief, and in a daze, you start meeting his hips with yours just so you could feel him more. Your Lord takes your thighs and hooks them around his waist to deepen his thrusts, while he picks up a pace that makes you scream hoarsely it echoes in his chambers. You know the moment he starts hitting your sweet spot, you're done for. You meet his unforgiving thrusts as best as you can and he brings your bodies close, desperate to feel more of you while he captures your lips with his in a frenzy. You dig your nails into his back, leaving scratches on his pale skin. You moan in his mouth while your hand reaches to your folds to touch yourself for the first time, massaging and pressing on your clit to help find a quicker release.

But your Lord notices this - he pulls away from the kiss and harshly grabs your hands so he could pin them above your head.

"Do that again and I will deny you release for a week, just like you've done to me," he all but growls against your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine. "You will come when I command you so."

He continues pounding into you with a force that blurs the line between pain and pleasure, and in no time, you could feel yourself dissolving into bliss, reduced to nothing but sharp cries and desperate pleas.

"Lord M-Morpheus," you breathe amidst your wanton moans filling his chambers. "Please, I need…I need to…"

"Say it, little dream of mine."

"Morph-fuck, Morpheus, please, make me come, I beg you, please," you draw out raspily, not caring about your language or how you sound. You focus on your master, your creator, drawing out your suffering, until finally -

"Then, come for your King, little dream."

At his command, you shatter beneath him like glass exploding into a thousand pieces, unbearable pleasure coursing through your veins, and you scream his name like a prayer until your throat hurt - but unlike other gods, he's there, anchoring you to him and hearing your prayers, responding to them with a tender kiss to your lips.

You grow limp as your orgasm ebbs away, and your Lord effortlessly turns you to your stomach. You had been expecting this because he hasn't found his release yet, and, persistent with his goal, his hard cock finds itself inside you once again, his thrusts more forceful than the last. His body encloses yours, his chest touching your back, as his mouth lavishes the back of your neck. With his hands bringing your hips flush to his, you find yourself close to your second undoing in no time, mewling sinfully in sync with your Lord's grunts and the cacophony of flesh desperate to meet together.

"Perfect…you're so perfect for me, so tight for your King," he rasps against your reddened skin.

You're so close, but it's also starting to hurt, so you come for him the second he commands you, much more intense than the last, wishing you could take him with you, but it isn't to be, for he doesn't wait for you to catch your breath.

With his skilful manoeuvre of your bodies, you wind up facing him once more, your hands pinned above your head.

Your Lord, dipping his head so close your noses touch, whispers, his eyes containing blazing supernovas that engulf you:

"Once I am done with you, you will have life inside you - my son - you will be round with my child in months, and then you will truly accept your place with me. You are mine, mine alone - no one else can have you."

This time, he pulls your bodies ever closer, your nipples brushing against his chest with even the slightest movement. You could feel the warmth emanating from his body, and the scent of your union finally invading your senses. You could feel your blood pounding in your ears, the marks he left on your skin stinging more than ever before - and his hardened length being continuously slammed inside your increasingly numbing core - everything becomes too much all of a sudden, and like a veil lifted from your eyes, the haze from the lust is replaced by sheer panic.

You start sobbing heavily and thrashing against him, but like always, it's no use - and he takes, continues taking you, despite the pleas, the prayers you thought he'd heed; all you hear from is his groans of pleasure every time he pounds on you, and the word, one you've heard many times, but now being rubbed to your face anew:

Mine, mine, mine.

"Please, no, Lord Morpheus, please, stop, stopstopstop…"

But he doesn't; he never does, never will. You don't come anymore, and he no longer commands you to - in your distress, you couldn't anymore, and he knows it. When his orgasm hits him, you're actually hit with relief, but even that was short-lived: roaring into the night, he loses his rhythm, and as he fills you to the brim with his scorching hot seed, his erratic pumps send jolts of electricity invading your every nerve, and you lay there, limp and sobbing piteously, hurting everywhere, just taking it all I until he's done.

And you feel it - life burrowing inside you, swirling, barely perceptible, but it's there: your child, his child, clinging onto you for the very first time...

Your Lord doesn't pull out, not yet; bring your foreheads together, breath fanning your face, he says, ever-so-softly:

"Do you feel it, my love, my life, my dream? Our son, our heir, our proof of love?"

With a choked sob, you nod, reality hitting you like a sharp slap to the face. It's proving all too much for you and with a whisper only you could hear, the Voice gives you the gentlest of prompts:

Sleep.

And you do, but not before you feel a soft, feathery kiss on your forehead - your Lord, bidding you, and the life you both formed, a kiss good night.

***

You barely register the way your Lord stirs at the first rays of sunlight that enter his realm. Embracing you from behind, he plants a soft kiss on your exposed shoulder, then on your neck, before moving to your cheek, his hand ghosting over your abdomen. He bids you farewell for the day to attend to his duties, but after he leaves, you drift back to sleep, having been drained of energy from last night.

The next time you come to, Morwyn greets you with your usual tray of breakfast, except, aside from the coffee you're partial to, your tray holds a six-inch carrot cake topped with cream cheese frosting, with the word 'congratulations' written in blue icing. She then smiles shyly at you, revealing the entire kingdom to be overjoyed at the coming of their little prince.

You smile at her, holding out your hand in thanks, which she takes, giggling excitedly.

"I'm going to finally have a little boy to dress up. I promise I'll make him look as princely as he can be," she says in a jovial tone, before excusing herself to draw your bath.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to scream yourself hoarse and heave on an empty stomach.

And you know you had to keep up the act too - you meet Mervyn the Pumpkinhead on your way downstairs, wiping the staircase railings. With a tip of his hat, he greets you in his usual fashion.

"It has been a while since we've seen little runts running about the halls causing a ruckus," he comments through the lit cigar lodged in his orange mouth. "Knowing you, kid, that child might just be the end of me."

He goes on cleaning the rest of the marble railing, whistling tunelessly, unaware of that inner storm brewing inside you. You start wishing you wouldn't meet anyone else on your way to the library, but of course, there's Lucienne, whose smile, as effervescent as ever, greets you the moment you reach your favourite reading place. But it isn't just her that's waiting - spread on your favourite coffee table, spilling all over the floor and across the leather sofas, are packages upon packages, some wrapped in dainty, intricate ribbons, some painted in shades of colour an artist would drool over, and letters, mountains of them, all addressed to you, and to the little prince who you had only conceived the night before.

But, why, and how?

Lucienne, ever the sharper one between the both of you, clarifies, "They're tokens, greeting cards - well-wishes to the princess and the little prince, sent from all over the universe, and I don't see them stopping anytime soon.

"Congratulations, my Lady," she says, her voice breaking up in unadulterated joy, clasping your hands in hers.

You both spend the rest of the morning opening them and sorting them out, and by the time your scheduled meeting with your nightmare friend comes around, you barely make a dent in all the presents and the cards.

When Morwyn arrives to fetch you and tell you that the garden has been set up, you're glad to finally get an excuse to break away from the sickening, celebratory air the presents brought about.

At least your next company would give you less bullshit.

And so you sit on the garden chair, with a sprawling feast of sweets you had no appetite for indulging in, downing coffee like it would somehow make everything feel better (it doesn't).

"I thought coffee was bad for you," your friend drawls as he makes his approach, sitting on the chair before you. He pours himself a cup of coffee from the porcelain kettle.

"Everything will be bad for me in a few months," you say flatly as you cross your arms and slouch on your seat. "How did you find out?"

"Word travels fast here, princess," he replies with a shrug. "You probably had enough of this by now, so I won't say 'congratulations.'"

It turns out that's all it takes for you to break.

You couldn't control the onslaught of tears that escape the corner of your eyes, and thankfully, your friend makes no mention of it, no matter how uncomfortably he squirms in his chair. For you, it seems, he endures the next few minutes with only your quiet sniffling to break the awkward silence.

Eventually, you find the words you wanted to say.

"I could've stopped him, but I didn't, and now I have him."

The Corinthian, cursing under his breath, lights up a cigarette, and responds, "I'm not good at this, I usually make them cry, not the other way around." With a grin that comes out more of a grimace, he continues, "But uh…if it makes you feel any better, princess, you couldn't have stopped him. No one can. His kingdom, his rules; and there's not a damn thing we can do about it."

You wipe your tears with the sleeve of your dress in a very unladylike-like manner before belatedly grabbing the napkin on your side of the table. "You're right, as always," you softly remark, finally willing your tears to stop.

"Hey, think of it this way; if that kid is anything like you, he'll give Morpheus one hell of a time."

Apparently, that's all it takes for you to lighten up, too.

He laughs along with you, while a scene plays out in your head: the image of a kid, hair as black as his father's, puking on the Dream King's shirt - it's a scene you gladly tuck away in the recesses of your mind.

"It's not like I got the short end of the stick," you comment in a lighter tone, deciding to sample one of the lemon bars on the spread. "I got my dreaming abilities back."

"Ah, so you are getting something out of this besides the sex."

You shoot him a half-hearted glare, but you end up shaking your head as your grin grows wider. "So, finally, I get to meet that nightmare you're fawning over, granted, you'll let me come with you."

"No one's fawning over anyone, princess, and I wouldn't want to be around to watch whatever cheesy shit you craft," he flippantly responds as he picks a chocolate truffle on the table and puts it in his mouth. Is that what it looks like when he eats eyeballs, you vaguely wonder to yourself.

He gets to his feet, stomping on the cigarette butt he throws on the ground. He makes a motion with his head, urging you to follow him.

Together, you walk a path you have been looking forward to walking along, and at the end of it, your most coveted prize:

The sea of dreams.

With a two-finger salute, the Corinthian dives ahead of you, presumably to meet with Sumnio. You take a second to yourself to look around the calm, blue waters, seeing nothing beneath it as you peek into the depths below. Satisfied with what you see, you dive headfirst, just like the first time you did so, except, this time, without the comforting hand that you no longer needed.

The waters are full of everything the dreamers have to offer, but unlike the first time, you don't get overwhelmed with the entire collective unconscious of the whole of humanity - with expertise, your senses hone in on a dreamer you had intended on helping even before you had gotten your powers back; a dreamer whose future you could finely sculpt now that your dream-forming abilities are back at full strength.

And you land, with the grace of the princess, on the fantasy world that Ethan had built. A few feet away from you is the Conqueror of Dragons and Commander of Legions, but he does not notice your arrival - he's busy fighting what looks like an ogre ten times his size with a long dagger, much likr the one you had once handed to him.

Cracking your knuckles delightedly, you get to work.

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

Aside from the very busy sched lately, it's the smut here that got me stumped. Sorry for the delay and ILY all!!

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

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 1/29/22

Edit date: 1/29/22

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