#(this is so merrily coded)

[mummer]

okay so the THING about franklin shepard inc is that it’s the saddest thing ever and just listening to it without seeing frank’s utterly stony devastated face isnt the full picture… he doesnt move the entire time it’s just over he’s done. have you ever seen someone’s soul just die. it hits so hard that they love each other so much and it isn’t enough. charley’s betrayal of frank on the talk show is probably the worst thing he could have done, the worst way, but it was the only way he could do it. it had to be public because frank became a public entity. but the worst part of it, the most unforgivable crime, is that he’s trying to be kind and he’s doing it out of love. he doesnt even have the decency to betray frank with cruelty or callousness. that would have made sense to frank, that would have been digestible, probably even forgivable. but in their final moments of their friendship the worst part is that charley’s betrayal is sincerely selfless! he ruins frank’s life because he loves him too much. and that’s not processable or acceptable

[pixlmonkeys]

can’t wait to fail my standardized tests 🦅🦅🦅🦅💥💥💥

[4mrplumi]

ZERO (i) : SCAVENGERY . (ms/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, referenced assault, violence, toxic relationships, eventual fem love interest, bug taxidermy, unhealthy coping mechanisms, murder, sociopathic tendencies, full on master list.

> a/n; horribly in love with the idea of a self-sufficient classy mean judge. reblogs and interactions appreciated!! a lot (●'◡'●)

in fact, you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition, their thanks.

you won’t say you’re not petty, not childish, not absurd and not disgusting for what you’re doing, but you’ve heard it innumerable times before, and don’t mind it now. in a matter of days, the limits you’ve placed on yourself have become the bane of your existence.

bright, technicoloured posters with you favourite bands and characters hang on the walls, music playing merrily on a small portable speaker you’d bought with your self-earned pocket money. it all provided the perfect image of a regular teenager, to the extent that you weren’t really creating a civilian identity like your family, but living through it. normally.

it makes you giddy, and you know it shouldn’t, to be so unsuspecting. your grades are mediocre, but your teachers praise your work, you’re not popular enough to go be invited to every party, but enough to be friends with three quarters of the grade, not dedicated enough to a franchise to know it super well, but still enjoy it through multiple perspectives. normal, exceptional, and normal.

that’s what makes it all the more rewarding to do what you do. since being adopted at eleven, you’ve pieced together the caped identities of the monolith you call your family with lovely colour-coded pin boards and pictures. you know they escape into the night to fight not criminals, but fight crime, beating and getting beat in the process.

you think it’s tedious, but you never comment. there’s not much you remember prior to coming into the manor, except the raw experiences from fleeing cheerfully down unkempt, spray painted, molding stairway chambers with your friends away from an angry neighbour, laughing the whole way down. sharing fries for one among six to seven people, since money was hard to get by and harder to go around and listening to the one person who could afford school talk about it. pushing your friends on the swings and them tying your laces in return, since the swings were too far from the ground to push yourself, and scratchy velcro was for “sissies”.

you could say your childhood was rugged, but fairly kind for a gothamite. you weren’t given the life of a gilded richman’s son like tim, or the hard street crime life of jason. you weren’t raised by assassins or masters like damian and cassandra, not clever and determined like duke, not gifted with athleticism like dick. normal, incredibly. lucky, even.

you cannot think of anyone when you think of family. you considered your group of friends (acquaintances does your relationship better justice, but at ten, everyone was a friend if they didn’t wear a badge and a cap) family, but you knew that’s not what the word meant. they’d go back home to fighting parents, single mothers, thieving fathers, earning siblings or aging aunts and uncles. you would go home to a quiet one-room apartment and a poor quality mattress.

it’s not fair to say you weren’t cared for. the neighbourhood considered you their darling child, your friends’ parents sending you food, aunties reading you stories and elderly residents providing comfort when you wanted the rare support of an adult. but you had no family because by your accord, you would have to return home to them for someone to be family.

it’s the opposite now. you return home from school to bruce wayne and his entourage of misplaced children, but your interactions are stiff as stone. you go out to diners and have the most soulless conversations, stay in the house and refuse to partake in their exchanges.

because you are different. their morals are aligned to your guardian’s, of justice and strength and so on, so on. your morals are aligned with your survival, no one else's, selfish, scavenging. you cannot get along on a base value, because you don’t belong to their nest of canaries. you are, as a silly buzzfeed quiz at five in the morning said, a shrike.

yet still, you seeked the warmth of family. the resurgence of that feeling you once had in your old life. you could never return, having now experienced the fruits of luxury, having lived too far from “home” for far too long, with the added weight of a bruce wayne shaped shadow that followed you. the immense danger it would bring to yourself and those around you would be preposterous, unimaginable, but no more horrifying than the awkwardness you'd receive from you old not-family. scrutinising stares, untrusting glances, forced waves. no, no, it wouldn’t do. you don’t want to feel miserable. 

it’s enough that your presumed family already gives you those looks. sneers from damian, concerned glances from cassandra, brief unease from dick, ignorance from tim, you could go on and on and on. and you’re not stupid. you only have yourself to blame.

your vanity, as the buzzfeed quiz had said, in curling cursive font that sometimes turned to boxes on the ui, presented itself as a horrifying ignorance. unlike a peacock’s gushing beauty, your pretty-factor extended only as far into first impressions. when someone gets closer, enough to see the white of your eyes, they shrink away.

crude comments, satirical dismissal, and sharp judgement are things that have, in air quotes, made you unlikable. when watching a documentary about bug-taxidermy on one of the tvs, damian had walked in and commented on the generous “inhumanity” of it. instead of justifying the practice with explanations of how ethical it was, you’d scoffed and called him dramatic. he antagonised you, and you couldn't care less.

mean things left your mouth without hesitation, “who cares” and “you’re doing too much” at the simplest things. but you didn’t do it on purpose. growing up, kindness was reserved only for people in your circle, barterers of goods and generosity. you were polite to the old ladies who brought you food, nice to the new kid who looked at you for guidance, and offered support to people who’d offered that to you too.

you had no obligation to be kind to the wayne household. they had done nothing for you, other than pulling you out of a blood stained alley and providing you a home you didn’t ask for. you weren’t let in on their family bonds and not given the chance to create mutual trust with them, and were not keen on it after their whitewashed kidnapping either. 

perhaps you had the frayed edges of low-class living from gotham’s alleys, but you also had firmly set, stich, stern and strict guidelines about your behaviour. you would not make the first move, and you would not do more than fulfill debts. one favour for another, never more.

that’s what makes your secretive secret side job exhilarating. you have no need to do what you do, except for a sense of duty. the term itself, obligation, is unfamiliar, exciting. like many, but not the majority, the batman and his menagerie’s morals seem too high standing for the crevices of gotham’s underworld. only the red hood can relate, and even he is too far from the truth in your eyes.

death was a permanent solution to the wrongs of people. but you could not simply just wipe out a criminal from the street and call it a day. the only striking similarity between you and bruce wayne, was that the two of you didn’t fight criminals, but fought crime. you snuffed it out as it started hinting at the surface, not waiting for a track record or a ticket list on a license. nothing was forgiven, because you were not obliged to forgive.

you did not forgive, but did excuse. the theft of food, the death of someone too touchy, the fractured ribs of a parent too cruel, were excused. because like you, the suspect, the criminal, was also simply bartering. a favour for a favour, a wicked death for a wicked life. they would be let off from your radar, until someone else got to them. you were not obliged to save them. you are duty-bound only to rid. 

out of habit really, you resorted to violence. seeing a lady bothered by a fellow too close a few months back, you did what came naturally without the supervision of domineering adults and officers and shot him point blank. for a second, the woman stilled, painted in blood from the spray that arced to her, before screaming in horror and fleeing, without so much as a glance in your direction. 

you were unperturbed by the lack of thanks, with a hint of humour at the thought, since it meant you were not indebted to her and she was not to you. 

but it’s the realisation that comes shortly after, that a fine or a scolding would not similarly scare away the man, and he was now well taken care of. and you think of the other scummy people hiding gotham’s crowded basements, and think of their freedom. it makes you angry, it always has, truly it does. death was not an uncommon occurrence in gotham, the murders and abductions, cruelty and pain all as abundant as the trash, poverty and crime within the city. why was it only an offense when it came to the people who perpetuated it?

comfort does little to save victims. a bag of cash and a pat on the back will not rid them of their memories, sadness, or their losses. you are neither sympathetic nor can you relate, but you are angry. have been angry. on their behalf. the world is a rotten and sick place, and this city is especially so. and while batman is a poor janitor, the red hood one too late, and the monolith of your family too distant, you are decided. you’ll wash this place clean like a broken truck, knowing it’ll never work again, but look pretty as it remains.

and you, a good-for-nothing, always scorning, useless kid, are unsuspecting. you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition or their thanks.

> a/n i think this is a solid part one for a prologue bit. the crow choir series is getting a bit neglected because i want to think over its intricacies a bit better. in contrast, this is a very kick and throw kind of plot line, more fun to write for.

i've been super nervous to post on tumblr but am enjoying it. hopefully will upload the next bits soon, interactions so very very appreciated! esp ideas in comments or asks, because it makes me feel like i'm not wiling away the time i should use for other things (T_T) overall just feels nice too.

thank you for reading!!

[reallyromealone]

Title: ducky

Fandom: hazbin hotel

Pairing: Lucifer x reader

Warnings: reader is Jessica rabbit coded, make reader, sexual themes, reader hates Valentino, softcore nsfw, crack treated seriously, Lucifer is a simp, reader cross dresses, reader wears lipstick, the word daddy

Notes: the amount of rewrites boy howdy

🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️🕯️

After every show, (name) had gifts waiting from fans.

Flowers, expensive jewelry and other things were always there but one thing always stuck out to him, an adorable rubber duck dressed like him, wearing an adorable version of the show he did previously. Todays was his pink dress, the jazz singer loved cross dressing and it seemed his admirer noticed every detail of his outfits... It had him swooning! "Oh the note!" He said looking for the rose gold paper with black ink, another joke that was corny and wishing him a good day... Oh he was so wonderful!

It was the best part of his day, really it was.

Before this, his eternity was always so drab... Singing his songs and nothing of interest happening.

"It's time" one of his security guards said seriously and (name) nodded, placing the duck in his suit pocket before leaving with the men and out the back area of the club where the limo was waiting for him.

Not before catching eyes with the one person be despised and was sadly obsessed with him, Valentino smirked as he stepped out of the limo across the street as (name) got into his own faster, not wanting to deal with him especially after a performance. He couldn't stand that moth! The demon had been obsessed with (name) for years along with his little picture box friend, he remembered when they sent him molds of their erections! Disgusting!

(Name) Made sure his driver left faster, not wanting to deal with that man any more than he needed to.

"Your father requested your presence" the driver said to (name) who looked passive "what for?" He asked as a smile found its way in his face as the driver explained about some project the demon was partaking in and wanted (name)s help, the jazz demon excited to see what was taking all his father's time these days "then let's go see, shall we?"

(Name) Was not expecting some hotel on the edge of town "Hazbin hotel?" He mumbled curiously as he walked into the hotel, his driver going on his break and (name) wasn't expecting his father to be arguing with a small blond man "papa?" He asked with a passive Expression, where Alastor smiled (name) kept passive "(name)! There you are!" Alastor said dismissing the other immediately to walk to his son "how was your show little one?" He asked his son who let out a soft huff, amused "it was quite well, what's this shindig?" He gestured to the group of people and his dad grinned.

"I have someone for you to meet"

Everyone knew who (name) was, he was on every billboard across pentagram city and Angel dust knew how obsessed Vox and Valentino were with him, throwing tantrums whenever their wooing attempts went south.

But what they didn't know was that (name) was Alastors son.

"Wait son?! Sinners can't procreate?" Charlie asked curiously as Alastor laughed robotically "he was my son when I was alive, sadly I died when he was little--"'--and I was raised by grandma!" (Name) Continued and they were curious on how (name) was in hell but decided not to prod on that and now that they looked at them, they could see the resemblances.

Height being a main one, (name) just a bit shorter than his dad.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all, now why am I here?" He asked his father curiously and the radio demon grinned wider "well you see, we need someone to notice this place and what better than the most popular jazz singer in this place!" Alastor said merrily and (name) raised an eyebrow but sighed "I will on a condition" Charlie was vibrating with excitement as she nodded "whatever you want!"

"I'm looking for someone, I don't know who they are but I have a few clues" (name) pulled out the notes and the duck from his pockets "this person botherin' ya?" Husk asked suspiciously and (name) shook his head "quite the opposite actually!" Charlie and Alastor looked at each other and then the rubber duck in realization as Lucifer looked increasingly uncomfortable.

"Dad, is that your duck?" (Name) Drew his attention to the now panicking fallen angel who looked back at (name) stressed out "I think we should talk" (name) said to the blond man who followed nervously, the two going off somewhere as everyone processed what just happened.

"I can expla--" (name) stopped him with a kiss, gently holding Lucifer's face and his thumbs stroking his cheekbones before pulling back "I uh, I don't understand?" Lucifer said dumbly and (name) grinned "I never got a chance to tell you how my day was, awful rude doll~" he whispered to Lucifer and smiled at the smudged red lipstick from his performance on Lucifer's lips "s-so does this mean...?"

"Oh darling, I'm not gonna let you go... But I gotta ask, what's your name? Or should I just call you ducky?" (Name) Teased the other who looked incredibly flustered "maybe baby? Or daddy?" He teased and Lucifer was deeply confused at how this walking sex symbol was related to fucking Alastor but the kiss he was being pulled back into made him forget it all.

"They have been there awfully long" Charlie fretted and Angel dust snorted "he's related to smiles over there, god knows what's happening"

"I'm gonna check on them" she said nervously and Alastor followed, fatherly instincts kicking in as they went to the room the two wandered off too, hearing gasps and grunts and the sound of something knocking over. In a panic Charlie opened the door and Angel dust couldn't hold his laughter at Alastor and Charlie's horrified faces at the scene before them.

(Name) On-top of Lucifer with his suit half off his body and Lucifer was no better with an exposed chest and unbuttoned pants connected to (names) full lack of pants, Lucifer sporting Hickey's and red lipstick all over his body.

"DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?!" Lucifer was exasperated as the two quickly put themselves together and Charlie was traumatized at the fact she saw her dad... Like that.

[minty-drop]

Yandere AUTO x reader

Authors note: gender neutral pronouns are in use for all readers to enjoy. Auto slowly becoming sentient. First time writing for an ai, hope it turned out right!

Tw: yandere themes, forced confinement.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO who strictly follows his coding. From managing and piloting the Aixom, to the minuscule details of each and every bit of the fine print of number imbedded in the robots that occupies the Aixom. He has eyes everywhere, everywhere is him, for he is everything of the entirety of the Axioms cold walls.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO who’s absent of any sympathy or emotion when one is disposed of wether it be by natural causes or a forceful termination. It is merrily another number off the charts. Auto holds no remorse nor any form of grief for a life’s lost. It is an insignificant to him as a worn out shoe lace from an unknown brand of cheep boots.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO. The ships main pilot. An ai with no feelings, only the intellect he was designed with. A intellect he began to expand himself. To build and code himself. His very own creator becoming himself as the days go by.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO who finally noticed your presence that followed the captains chair from room to room. A personal assistant? Noted.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO was not the kindest at the beginner, any ai who has strict set of requirements would not be the most open to a social interaction outside of those requirements.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO began to develop small talk between the two of you when the captain was away. Out of Boredom perhaps? Or was it curiosity? The more you had spoke about your opinions, values, beliefs and even personal experiences. The more he anticipated your return each passing moment. It was confusing to auto. This new ‘feeling’ was wrong. It was discarding everything his coding told him. But it felt so RIGHT. Small talk is essential to get to know your surrounding audience. Small talk. Shouldn’t feel like a craving. An obsession. The thrill of imagining you running in fear. It was wrong. But so RIGHT at the same time. His coding was always right. So why second guess now?

⌨ᝰ- AUTO who began to question things his coding shouldn’t have questioned.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO. Whose obsession with you hit him so fast and hard, he had a new task at hand for him to complete.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO, the one who terminated your close ones. The ones you hold dear to your now aching heart. Any barriers that block the path to his goal, must be wiped from the sheet of existence. They were not important. But you were.

⌨ᝰ- AUTO who confines you to a small quarters of the axiom, where no one can find you, see you or even breathe near you. If this is what he has to do to fulfill his task then so be it. No matter if you are human or sentient robot, you will stay here with him as his one and only companion. He blames it on his coding. A task handed to him to complete.

What task is that? That’s classified.

[angel1010xx]

ｃｉｇａｒｅｔｔｅｓ

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

You hated cigarettes.

Cigarettes were stuffy and overwhelming, the scent lingered for hours, and the smoke made your lungs feel closed up. They were complete bombardments to your senses, and genuinely? You felt as if the world would be better off without them. Smoking is a bad habit, after all. Why would anyone willingly choose to give themselves lung cancer and an early grave?

The Thousand Sunny was having a lively night. Brooks was merrily serenading the crew, while each of them were on their own missions. Zoro was drinking (to death, probably, how was his liver still functioning?), Usopp was reliving the latest battle with Luffy, Franky, and Chopper (with embellishments, of course, not that his audience would be able to detect them), and Nami and Robin were sucked into their books (they were so perfect, the crew hardly deserved the gift of their presence). That just left Sanji.

Running around, fawning over “Nami-Swan,” and lighting yet another cigarette.

Yes, he was a phenomenal chef. Yes, he was doting and chivalrous. Yes, he was charismatic and consistent, and it was so hard to find a man that to actually abide by a moral code. But God, he was perverted. He was unbearable. And he reeked like menthol.

Sighing, you crossed your wrists over each other and leaned on the railing of the ship. The Grand Line was dangerous, but it was beautiful when the moonlight reflected across the water. The sights, the wind in your face, and the freedom made all the trouble worth the adventure. You were apart from the main crowd, opting for some personal space at the front of the ship. The Straw Hat crew was your family; and true to life, everyone needs their elbow room sometimes, even from the ones they love most. 

Approaching footsteps interrupted your peace. Looking over your shoulder, you spotted Sanji walking towards you. Great, you thought. He gazed at you with a slight tension in his brow. “The fish is ready. Are you going to eat?”

“In a little bit, yes,” you responded. “I just wanted some fresh air and quiet right now.” Sanji settled in, standing beside you, mimicking your pose by also leaning against the railing. “I hope you come down soon,” he spoke in a low voice. “Our princess-warrior needs her strength just like the rest of us.” 

A smile tugged at your lips. “I’m scared, Sanji,” you whispered, choosing to open up to him. “The world is changing. I worry about my people at home. I know there’s ample resources and military force to keep them safe, but…” you trailed off, eyes shifting from focusing and losing focusing on the sea waves. Sanji let out a hum, and pulled out a cigarette and a light. You cocked your head towards him, this time with a slight lip curl. “You just had one. Do you really have to smoke another one, right here?”

He let out a puff of smoke and a chuckle. “Mon amour, we all have ways of dealing with our stress.” 

Sanji shifted to face his body towards you, but kept one arm on the railing. “You can’t sit there and worry about your people all day and night. I see it on your face every time I look at you. It practically breaks my heart,” he paused to place his free hand on his chest. He broke out into a warm smile. “Right here and now, princess, you are safe, and they are safe too.” 

You let out a deep breath, doing your best to soak in his words. “Thank you, Sanji.” He let out another hum, put out his cigarette, and brought you in for a hug. “Of course, mon amour.”

Yes, he smelled like menthol. Yes, you had a hard time breathing. But he also smelled like cologne. He was warm, and the feeling of his breath down the side of your neck made you shiver. A thought came into your mind for a split second—what would it be like to taste the cigarette, if you were to press your lips to his own?

It’s a fine line between love and hate, after all. 

[seraphicloves]

𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐢 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫

⊱✿⊰ summary: riddle's mother had many rules for him one of which: focus on studies and forget about love.

⊱✿⊰ warnings: forbidden love except its jst bc riddle is silly billy, i wanted this to be romeo and juliet coded kinda but it doesn't work that well. Omg unless i make it like reader if from the rival school and riddle loves her teheheheh ahem ignore that, reader is yuu and should be gn (correct me on mistakes but be nice or i will ignore u) mild spoilers for book one!

⊱✿⊰ notes: i have no notes bc i started rambling in the warning section uh i think im high off of oxygen. might make a part two idk confessions perhizzle??

riddle lived his life on certainty. he woke up every morning, knowing exactly what he would wear and eat. he knew who would be troublesome and what classes he would be attending. he knew everything down to each very specific detail. which led him to believe in one more certainty: he was allergic to you.

he had to be! why else would his heartbeat accelerate so quickly? why else would his hands feel all prickly and warm whenever you grabbed them because your excitment bubbled out of you. why else would his stomach feel like it was being dropped to his feet whenever you smiled at anybody else other than him? it was the only logical decision.

"uh, no riddle. you're in love." trey had commented one day, after the housewarden had finished complaining about his strange encounters with you. riddle assumed trey was joking, riddle didn't fall in love! he had studies and other important things to do, he had no time for such foolish affairs.

he felt his gaze follow your movements across the dining hall, as you dished out some tuna for grim to eat. riddle grimaced, internally cursing himself for his face heating up. stupid allergic reaction.

he just about flung his lunch tray when you spotted him, bouncing merrily over. he was going to die and you were the causation. surely there was some sort of rule you were breaking for making him feel so entirely insane. it was like being overblotted again except this times it because you were sending him to an early grave.

"hi, riddle!" you giggled, plopping down in the seat beside him. how could a magicless being trapped in the wrong world be so merry and joyful? how were you so....beautiful?

riddle clenched his fist at the sudden thought he had, accidentally squeezing the juice box he had in his hand and making the liquid come squirting out. he gasped at the sudden sticky mess, his cheeks turning as bright as the roses the queen loved so much. how dreadful.

"hello, [reader]." he said, trying to stop his voice from shaking. you didn't notice anything, thank the great seven for that. although you were still looking at him strangely for the juice mess he had created.

effortlessly you grabbed some napkins, cleaning up the table before grabbing his hand to clean the liquids on him. he froze, every nerve ending in his hand getting immediately set on fire.

abruptly riddle stood up, knocking the napkins out of your head accidentally. with a curt thanks he scurried off, walking stiffly like his muscles has suddenly turned to concrete.

with steam practically radiating off his face he marched to his room, trying to prevent the allergic reaction from taking dire affect. he had to be rid of all relations with you, he must! or else surely he would die from your close proximity or your melodic laugh or your pretty face or-

see, you were even deluding his thoughts. whatever disease you have cursed upon him was nothing less than burdensome. he needed to be rid of it, of you immediately.

lori © 2024. please don't copy, modify, or do anything weird with my writing! i like reblogs and comments but please be kind as this was my writing.

[madridfangirl]

Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 10

(Series Link)

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

...................................................................................

Jude was coming back from the international break today. England had qualified for the Euros, with matches to spare. And he had been the shining star of both the games. Scoring a goal and winning a penalty.

Ananya was so proud of him. But ten days apart felt like forever this time. They spoke everyday, sometimes twice a day, and exchanged messages throughout. It just wasn’t enough though, and she couldn’t wait to reunite with him.

Jude came straight to her apartment from the airport, lifted her by her waist & swung her around like a madman. Legs bumping into the furniture of the living room. She giggled away merrily, while trying to keep them from tumbling over.

‘Easy there, tiger.’

His eyes glinted with mischief.

‘Ooh do I finally get a nickname?’

‘Maybe. You like it?’

He nodded eagerly, & she kissed his nose.

‘Okay then. Dinner is ready, tiger.’

‘Are you on the menu? Coz I’d rather have you.’

‘Maybe for dessert.’

She winked as she untangled herself from his hold. While he stared after her, replaying what she had said & the way she said it. Something had been different about her lately & he was loving every bit of it.

‘Oh my god you are backkk.’

Roma emerged from her room and Jude pulled her into a bearhug too.

‘Gosh you rocked in both the games.’

‘I know right?’

He shrugged smugly and both the girls rolled their eyes at him.

‘So the modesty is only for the cameras, is it?’

Roma quipped, and Ananya chuckled from where she was setting the table.

‘Now don’t gang up on me, you two. It’s my day. Heck its my week.’

‘When is it not?’

The girls said together, looked at each other & burst out laughing. Jude pouted for a second, but joined in the banter later, sitting next to Ananya on the table. His palm never left her thigh throughout dinner.

She had cooked his favourite pasta. Exactly how he liked it. The way his mom made it. 

He leaned over & kissed her cheek, earning a sweet smile. Jude loved it when she remembered the little things & spoiled him like that.

Conversation flowed easily between the three of them, as always. Jude spoke about the new tiny Italian town he discovered where they had their camp, and the girls made plan to visit there. Roma joked about the posters the Italian fangirls carried in the match, saying ‘Marry me Jude’ or ‘Be my boyfriend’. The cameraman had some fun with it, popping it on the screen a few times. Some of the players on the field had noticed it too, & it had become quite a joke in the post match pressers as well.

Jude smiled sheepishly, while looking at Ananya from the corner of his eye.

‘Yeah, some of them came to our hotel too.’

‘Excuse me?’

Ananya’s head whipped in his direction, while Roma wondered if she had opened a pandora’s box.

‘Honest, they did. Just wanted some photos & merch. Then we hung out for a bit.’

‘Define we.’

‘Me & them. And some other lads.’

‘This is not funny.’

‘Wanna see some photos?’

Ananya just stared at him, and he lost the will to carry on the charade.

‘Jeez I left, dove. I just clicked some pics and left. Though I think the girls weren’t too happy about that; lads told me later, honest.’

The smugness & cockiness was on full show. Coupled with a dashing smile.

‘Such a heartbreaker, aren’t you?’

‘Like you aren’t one.’

Roma mutterred from her seat, sipping her third glass of wine, only realising the slip up when she felt the full force of Ananya’s glare.

Jude looked between the two, trying to decipher their code language. Failing miserably.

‘What’s going on, girls?’

‘Just had too many of these, should stop now.’

‘Yes. Yes you should.’

Ananya said pointedly. Roma took her leave soon after. She was supposed to go to a house party though something about the moment felt odd. But Jude was too happy tonight, so he let it go.

He grabbed her waist from behind as Ananya was clearing the table.

‘How about my dessert now?’

His mouth started trailing down her neck & shoulder as he pushed her towards the bedroom.

‘There is choco-fudge brownie in the fridge, your fav.’

She really had gone all out for him today. His lips curved into a smile against the crook of her neck.

‘Can I eat it off you?’

Before she could even process his words, he sat on the edge of the bed & pulled her into his lap, her legs straddling his thighs.

His hot mouth was on hers in a flash, & she forgot her last lucid thought, losing herself in his frenzy.

His hungry, sloppy kisses left a wet trail all over her face, neck & exposed cleavage.

‘Oh I missed you. All of you.’

His hands moved under her butt, kneading them with force, making her yelp into his mouth.

‘Did you miss me? Miss this?’

She threw her head back as he bit along her jaw. Everything about their intimacy hit deeper today. Like their bodies knew they were at a pivotal juncture.

‘Yes. So much, Jude.’

It was true. She had missed his touch like hell, feeling empty & starved without it.

Her breathless response spurred him no end. His large, warm hand slid up her fitted top, cupping one of her breasts. 

This was unchartered territory between them. Her eyes flew open instantly, & met his dark, hooded ones. He held her gaze, squeezed harder, making her mewl & tremble in his arms.

‘I thought about these babies every night. Touched myself thinking about doing this.’

His fingers circled the centre of her clothed boob, finding the nipple & rolling it with intent. In no mood to stop. The continued assault made her fall forward, clutching his shoulders.

Tonight was supposed to be the night where she told him she was ready for more. Ready to be fully his. The longing she felt while he was away made her see it even more clearly. 

She had planned this to the T - his fav meal & dessert, his fav fitted top on her, his fav lip-colour on her, leaving her hair open the way he liked, keeping the apartment to themselves tonight. She had spent hours in the salon too, wanting to look pretty for him. She knew he noticed & appreciated these things, & cleaned up well himself for date-nights. 

But she was fast losing control of the situation. He was taking over, with his hot & frenzied moves, dragging her along. Did he read her mind or her mood? Or was he in a mood of his own? She couldn’t tell. But his touch felt firmer tonight, his gaze more intense, filled with purpose. The spark between them more charged.

Her body was responding to him fully, but her conscience kept messing with her head. She had to tell him. Now. Before anything happened. He had the right to know. 

But does it even matter? It’s inconsequential. Why bring it up now?

She tried to debate with her conscience but it was a losing battle. It won’t be inconsequential to him. And if the roles were reversed, she would most definitely want to know this. The start of something special between them could not be done with a heavy conscience.

‘Ju-de.’

Her voice was barely a whisper. He was too occupied with her curves to register that. She spoke louder.

‘Jude…wait.’

He looked up, his hands still continuing his ministrations.

‘Whyyy?’

‘I need to tell you something.’

‘Now?’

His pleading puppy eyes tried to sway her, but she knew it was the right thing to do. 

Ananya gave him a few moments to compose himself. His hands came down to loosely wrap around her waist, and hers cupped his cheeks. Still in his lap, straddling him.

Jude searched her face, a sudden unsettling dread buildingin the pit of his stomach. He could tell something was coming, something unpleasant. 

She decided to let it out quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

‘Remember our office party last Friday, the one where we all dressed up in ethnic wear?’

‘Yes.’

He already didn’t like the direction where it was going.

Ananya looked down, unable to meet his eyes for this, feeling a weird sense of guilt.

‘That night, Arjun proposed to me. I didn’t see it coming but you were right about this. About him. I-I thought you should know.’

Jude was still as a rock. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. She looked up to his face. It had gone cold. No expression. His eyes were shut - as if wanting to process this in some privacy.

Slowly, his arms dropped from around her, gripping the edge of the bed. Leaving her feeling empty.

She desperately wanted to pepper kisses all over his face, to make him look at her, to show him how none of it meant anything, but she wasn’t sure if any intimate touch would be welcome right now.

So she just stroked his face slowly with her fingers, waiting for him to open his eyes. He did open them, but looked behind her, almost through her.

‘How did it happen?’

His voice was cold, distant. Unfamiliar.

‘I..I don’t understand your question.’

‘When he PROPOSED to you, what did he do? What did he say?’

Her face contorted in discomfort, unable to understand why he wanted these images in his head.

‘We were dancing together and..’

‘You were dancing with him?’

His voice & tone were even but she knew his emotions were anything but that.

‘No. We were all dancing individually, but in a group. 5-6 of us. He was next to me, said he wanted to talk to me, we stepped aside and then he….then he….’

She looked at him pleadingly, to stop this torture, but he wasn’t in the mood to show any mercy right now. Defeated, she continued. 

‘He said I was looking beautiful in that sari & that he….has had feelings for me…for a while. And if I’d like to go on a drive with him.’

‘A drive? Sure, that’s all he wanted that night.’

Jude scoffed mockingly. Unable to shake the image of that leech checking her out, wanting to whisk her away to put his hands on her. 

Facing Jude seemed like such a difficult task suddenly for Ananya. Maybe coz his eyes were screaming bloody murder. And her own conscience kept making her feel like she had wronged him somehow. But she hadn’t. How was this her fault?

‘What did you say?’

Her whole body jerked at his question. He really needed to ask?

‘I-I obviously said no, Jude. Told him I’m not in the right headspace for a relationship, just wanna focus on my work.’

His accusing glare again bore a hole through her, as if this was the wrong response too. As if he expected her to say something else. But they had discussed this before. He knew this is what she was telling people.

She could tell how hard he was trying to keep a lid on his agitation, for her sake. How hard his hands were gripping the edge of the bed, knuckles going white. A volcano simmering inside him, ready to erupt any moment. 

Wanting to comfort him, she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, wrapping her legs around his waist, kissing the side of his face. His hands didn’t move from the bed. 

‘Why was I not told immediately?’

‘You were away, baby.’

‘We spoke twice everyday. This was 7 days ago. Why didn’t you tell me that night itself?

‘You were playing Italy next day.’

‘So?’

‘So how could I tell you something that would mess with your mind? When I knew how important that match was and how hard you were training for it? How could I be the reason to meddle with that? I know football comes first for you.’

‘Oh don’t you throw that in my face. Don’t use that against me. Football coming first doesn’t mean I should be kept in the dark about other important things.’

‘Kept in the dark? I am telling you the first time we are meeting in person after that. How is that keeping you in the dark?’

He wasn’t the only one agitated now. Her guilt had made way for a fair bit of irritation. Everything seemed to be blowing up in her face, despite her best efforts to make the right call for everyone. 

‘Would you have told me if Roma hadn’t blurted it out?’

Jude had finally put two & two together on the heartbreaker comment. He understood that exchange now, and why Roma left so quickly after that.

‘Do you seriously believe I would have kept this from you?’

Her voice was small now, filled with hurt.

‘I don’t know. I never thought you of all people would ever hide something like this from me for so long, but you did. So now I don’t know anymore.’

He said honestly. Matter of factly. She was supposed to be different. Jude didn’t think there was an iota of deception in her. So how could she talk to him the whole week & pretend everything was ok? 

It hit her like a truck. Because she could see it was coming from his heart. And she knew he didn’t use any filters in his closed circles. 

She clutched his shirt tightly, trying to shake him. It didn’t make a dent. 

‘Jude, please, look at me. It meant nothing. It means nothing. It’s done. I genuinely thought it was the best thing to do, I couldn’t bear it impacting your performance. That’s the only reason I delayed telling you. There is nothing more to it. Please, try to look at it from my POV.’

Jude laughed a dry little laugh, which sounded almost cruel to her.

‘Your POV? Ok, let’s do that. How would you have reacted if the situation was reversed? If I had kept something like that from you.’

She was stumped. Unable to come up with a response that could further her case.

‘You would have been out of that door by now. I would have gotten zero benefit of the doubt. Guilty on sight.’

She looked down at her hands. Coz he was right. She would take taken this badly. 

‘Because you are you - above any reproach. And I am me, the quintessential slut. Right?’

Ananya shook her head in pain, covering his mouth with her palm.

‘Don’t say that, baby. Please, I can’t.’

She reached out to caress his cheeks but he flinched. The rejection felt worse than a slap in the face.

‘I should leave.’

Jude muttered in a cold voice, almost to himself, as he lifted her out of his lap, placing her on the bed.

She felt numb. Shocked at the turn of events. Broken with the hurt in his voice. 

Coming to life only when he tried to get up.

She clutched his elbow with both hands, placing her head on his shoulder. 

‘Stay. Please. Don’t leave me like this.’

Jude sighed audibly, looking at her trembling form. Fighting every bone in his body that was yearning to hold her. Comfort her.

‘It’s for the best, Ananya.’

She clutched him tighter. Her own name never sounded so foul, so bitter to her. She had gotten so used to his terms of endearment. 

‘I’ll do something, or say something I’ll regret. It’s best I leave right now.’

How did things come to this? What was this game god was playing with her? How did she hurt this precious man so much that he couldn’t bear being in her company? Couldn’t bear looking at her face without flinching? Why did it have to happen now, when she was ready to give her all to him? 

No, she couldn’t let him go like this. She wouldn’t. 

‘Say what you have to say. Don’t bottle it in. It’d be worse.’

‘You won’t be able to handle it, Ananya.’

The cold & mocking tone was back. There was only one way to get it all out of him now. Confrontation.

‘Don’t patronise me. I am a big girl.’

His head whipped in her direction. 

‘What did you say?’

‘You heard me.’

She could see her provocation had had the desired effect. Jude jerked his arm away from her hold and paced around the room.

‘Oh you are quite something, aren’t you? You refuse to listen to reason. You refuse to admit you are wrong. And I am patronising? Jesus fucking Christ what a joke.’

His tone was cutting through her but she needed to get this out of him. Else they would fall into a bottomless pit of misunderstanding.

‘That fucker - I told you from day one. I told you he wanted you. But no, you didn’t listen. Coz you think you are smarter than me. Well in many things you are. But it some things I know better. Especially when it comes to men. I am one of those men. I know what guys want when they look at girls a certain way. But you were too stubborn to admit it. You made it a matter of your independence, like I was trying to dictate your life, to control you, by asking you to stay away from  that leech. You took his calls in the middle of the night, let him bring coffee for you, calling it all harmless, when I told you repeatedly it wasn’t. YOU LET HIM THINK HE HAD A SHOT, ANANYA. When you knew, you knew I hated his guts.’

He lifted her by her upper arms, making her stand in front of him.

‘He didn’t just want to take you on a drive, he wanted to fuck your brains out. To rip that sari off of you. When it should have been me. Only me. To get to picture you like that. To get to do that to you. Just me.’

He pulled her closer for a rough kiss, pouring his frustration into her mouth. When she started moving her lips to his tune, he broke the kiss abruptly.

‘Makes me wonder if you want him as your side-squeeze.’

‘W-hat?’

She choked out, still reeling from his kiss.

‘Makes sense, doesn’t it? Why you always defend him. Why you took this week to maybe think about his proposal, before telling me. What is he, a safety net? If things don’t work out between us? Is that why you have been keeping me away, not letting me have you?’

She stared at him in disbelief. Debating whether or not to really slap him - anything to get him out of this madness spree he was on.

‘You are out of YOUR FUCKING MIND if you think like that.’

‘Oh really..’

‘SHUT UP. You idiot. Fine I fucked up by not telling you sooner. But if you, even for a moment, believe that I want anyone else but you, then you are an even bigger dimwit than I thought. And then you say you can tell these things. Can you not see how I look at you? How you make me feel? The effect you have on me, CAN YOU NOT SEE ANY OF IT?’

Jude was quiet now, this rant had been unexpected. She found herself unable to stop. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer.

‘I spent days trying to make today perfect. Your fav meal, your fav music, and all of this.’

She pointed to herself, head to toe. All the effort she had made to doll up for him.

‘And this.’

She grabbed a paper bag from her dresser and shoved it in his arms. He looked inside, finding an RM jersey. HIS jersey. HIS name. HIS number. Something he had always wanted to see on her. Something she had said he needed to earn.

‘Any distance between us was not coz of Arjun. Or my ex. It was me. It was us. Like I always told you. And tonight….I wanted to wear this for you. Just this.’

She didn’t say more. She didn’t need to. He got what she meant. 

But Jude was unhinged tonight, letting out every thought unfiltered.

‘Pity sex? Guilty sex? That’s what I get? After waiting for ages, that’s what I get?’

’Sometimes I forget how immature you are.’

Jude grabbed her arms, locking them behind her back, caging her in his hold. Towering over her, leaning down to stare into her eyes.

‘And you are the queen of maturity, right? While I am a juvenile?’

‘When it comes to matters of emotional complexity, of adult relationships, YES.’

‘Who has more experience between us?’

‘SEX is not relationship experience.’

‘Dealing with women is experience.’

‘Dealing? Or stringing them along? Or toying with them? Or sleeping with them once & never calling them back? Or using them just for sex? I AM GLAD I don’t have that experience.’

‘Didn’t know you were making a documentary on my sex life. Is that all you do in your free time?’

‘I don’t get much free time. Given I have to deal with a child like you.’

‘And you’re so proper aren’t you? With all your rules, and do’s and don’ts for anyone to be with you.’

Ananya squirmed in his grip, wanting to break free, to smack his pretty face that was spewing garbage non-stop. Rules. He had the gall to talk about rules. 

‘Let me go.’

Jude tightened his grip further. Sure to leave bruises.

‘Make me.’

‘If you hated the rules so much, who asked you to chase me, huh? I didn’t force you to wait. To give up all the amazing sex you were getting. Didn’t force you into this celibacy. I told you it would take time, I told you on Day 1. Then what fucking rules are you moaning about, huh? Don’t tell me you didn’t indulge in these 45 days. That you didn’t look elsewhere. That you weren’t tempted. Don’t fucking tell me that.’

“I WAS TEMPTED. But I didn’t act on it. Fuck I even stopped the Insta likes. AND I wouldn’t have been tempted at all if I HAD YOU.’

‘Sex. It’s just all about sex with you.’

‘Really? I haven’t touched you in 45 days and THATS WHAT YOU THROW IN MY FACE?’

‘And you aren’t used to that, are you? Jude Bellingham isn’t used to waiting for any girl, is he? Because he always gets what he wants, whenever he wants it. However many times he wants it. Because women just fall at his feet left, right & centre.’

‘When did you become so filthy, so nasty?’

‘Since I met you.’

Jude let her go abruptly, stepping away from her. She rubbed her wrists, trying to soothe the reddened area.

‘Maybe you were right. Maybe this is too complicated. Too hard.’

The haze lifted, and she felt her heart sink to her stomach.

‘Maybe.’

Jude had his back to her now. He rubbed his temple repeatedly, questioning his life choices. Maybe this relationship thing was not for him. Maybe Jobe was right, he wasn’t ready. He had tried with sincerity, but still fallen short. Or maybe they were just not right for each other.

She stayed still, waiting for his next move. Waiting for him to look at her again. He didn’t.

‘Umm…I should probably head back.’

‘Uh-huh.’

Jude picked up his phone from her desk, paused at the door of her bedroom, torn, but eventually walked out. She heard the main door slam on his way out.

That’s when the tears finally started. She fell on the bed face down, letting it all out.

In hindsight, not a single argument had been worth fighting over. It just escalated like mad, due to both their faults, and ballooned into a point of no return. 

Was it that, a point of no return?

She buried her head in the pillow as reality slowly started to sink in.

But she didn’t have to stay there for long. The door flew open two mins later, and there he was.

Jude had tried to storm out but ended up just pacing around the living room. Unable to walk away. He had never been good at letting her go.

No words were needed. She ran to him ecstatically. And he caught her as she jumped into his arms. Pressing her against the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist.

Their lips crashed together - nipping, sucking, kissing with abandon. A clash of teeth and tongues. He won eventually, invading her mouth at will. Both gasping apologies in between kisses.

Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging & pulling, as he continued to wreck her mouth, her face, her neck. 

‘Lets not fight like this again.’

‘Done. And don’t ever walk out on me again.

‘Done.’

They went back to the frantic kissing, but she to break for air a few moments later.

‘Jude - I should have told you earlier about him. Should have listened to you. I am sorry.’

His face suddenly turned all serious, and she wondered if she had walked into a hole again.

‘Here’s how it’s gonna go. You’ll tell him you’re seeing someone, that you’re practically living with someone. That the person is famous, so you want to keep it low profile. And then, you will stay away. No conversation outside of work. No messages. No calls. No social get togethers. I don’t want him in a 5 mile radius of you outside of work. AND, if after this, he still doesn’t get the message, you’ll come straight to me & then I will deal with him my way. And you, dove, will stay out of it. I don’t wanna hear a peep from you then. Understood?’

The absolute authority in his voice left no room for disobeying. She nodded instantly, and was rewarded with a fierce kiss.

‘Now…go & get ready for me.’

‘Huh?’

She couldn't’ think straight, with his tongue still in her mouth.

‘I was promised you in my jersey. Just my jersey.’

She had completely forgotten all else after their fight, but he hadn’t. His eyes glinted suggestively, as he set her down on the ground & patted her ass, nudging her towards the washroom.

‘Don’t keep me waiting. I have plans for you tonight.’

...................................................................................

Phew! I posted ahead of time, yayyy!

This was meant to be angst plus smut but the angsty piece itself went on for 4.4k words. Too much fun :)

You can guess what's gonna happen next. That is the next chapter :)

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / feedback. They keep me going :)

[vxnuslogy]

– a waltz with fate.

pairing: aventurine x gn!reader

premise: the fate of luck never had anything of great value after shedding his mortal shell, until you came to him for help. now, aventurine struggles against destiny to make sure you're not taken away from him for the second time.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint, reader is described as feminine and is called princess a few times but still use "you/they/them" pronouns, slight spoilers for events in once upon a broken heart.

– author's note: this is very once upon a broken hearted inspired so please go give it a read! art credits to @yeurei | ~3.1k words.

aventurine was not obsessed. one more visit didn’t equate to obsession. he simply wanted to make sure you were safe and sound; that you were still alive. yes, aventurine just wanted to double check that you weren’t bleeding on the shoulder like last time. in danger. unhappy. or uncomfortable. you were safe here, because he was watching over you.

a pained sigh left his lips as his hand came to ruffle his already unruly hair. his eyes scanning over your figure who slept soundly in the bed of your temporary room in penacony. aventurine clicked his tongue as he took a good look at the space. muted colors of silver, whites, and blues didn’t suit you. vibrant colors of yellows, pinks, and turquoise suited your rowdy personality better. these colors made you stand out even more, captivating everyone in the room with just a glance. 

“time to wake up now, friend.” he merrily whispered near your ear, so incredibly close it made him feel intimate. it left a painful tearing inside his already broken heart. as expected, you opened your bleary eyes at him. he saw how your lips tried to scream at him for sneaking into your room but it never left your throat as he throwed a dress right at your face. 

“the party is about to start,” he heard you shuffle out of bed and lay out the dress. “it’d be a shame if you were late.” aventurine threw a grin over his shoulder when you rolled your eyes at him. grin growing wider when he realized you planned on wearing the dress he picked out for you despite the irrelevant dress code of only wearing white, black and gold.

“how kind of you, lord aventurine.” there it was. the same playful lilt of your voice. 

you were growing too trustful of him again. aventurine didn’t know if his heart fluttered or broke into a million more pieces.

“well what can i say?” shrugging his shoulders he made his way to your balcony. “i’m feeling generous tonight. maybe i’ll even ask you for a dance tonight!”

another roll of your eyes and you're already waving him goodbye. “oh how marvelous! i’ll be sure to rub it on the poor faces of the ladies that would die to dance with you.”

aventurine let out a hearty laugh as he left your room with a single graceful jump. but his happiness was short lived when he spotted a familiar white snake coiling around the tree branch that was placed coincidentally right in front of your balcony. the man scoffed as the snake slithered down the tree and disappeared into the bushes. no doubt planning on telling its master of what it just saw. 

for the longest time, aventurine never minded the still and quietness of the night. but this time, the night was too cold for his liking. it may have been winter in penacony and the dress shirt he wore was thin and loose, the temperatures never bothered him. another sigh left his lips as he shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking to where this year’s charmony ball will be held. mentally preparing himself for the encounters he may stumble into for the night.

 �� –

as expected of the family, the charmony ball looked like a fairytale stolen from a child’s storybook. the ballroom from the ceilings to the floors were covered with iridescent pearls and silver ornaments with touches of  gold here and there. some royals from all over the land were already on the dance floor, happily dancing to the beat of the music that played from the second floor. cheers and laughter echoed throughout the entire room, enchanting everyone inside.

“well don’t you look charming, lord aventurine.” 

aventurine pressed his lips into a firm line, his grip tightening on the golden goblet that his hand held. he needn't look to his side to know who had approached. her intimidating presence and captivating voice gave it all away. “as do you, lady bonajade. but you always look dazzling no matter what.”

jade chuckled and stood beside aventurine, much to his dismay. the older woman wore a dark blue daring off shoulder dress that showed off her skin with the slit reaching her upper thigh. it would be considered scandalous if any other woman were to wear it. the white ruffled sleeves only reaching her elbows complimented the dark glove she wore on her left hand. as always, her wrists were decorated with shining gold bracelets and her signature jade ring that rested on her ungloved finger.

“flattery won’t get you anywhere, child.” taking a goblet from the wandering server, she took a tentative sip before sloshing the drink around. 

aventurine didn’t care for what others thought of him, but it was different when the woman beside him did it. he suddenly felt insecure about the white dress shirt he wore. wondering if it was obvious that the piece of clothing was too big for him with the way it sagged around his shoulders. the black vest that was more akin to a coat with its train felt too suffocating now. he suddenly had the urge to readjust the collar of his shirt and take off the dark blue gem pin on the center of his neck. he didn’t look like the playful and reckless lord aventurine he worked so hard to build up whenever jade was around. and he hated it.

an evil chuckle escaped jade’s lips. “you look better in turquoise, my dear.”

he scoffed, voice laced with the same poison he used to scare off any predators. “this was not my first choice either, madam. if i had known this ball was limited to only whites, golds, and blues then i would’ve brought my own clothing.”

aventurine felt the woman’s lips brush his ear as she whispered. “don’t use that tone with me, child. you still owe me a big debt after saving your little princess.”

jade must have noticed his tense posture when she mentioned you. cursing himself under his breath for showing weakness but he couldn’t calm his beating heart as he looked for you inside the ballroom. the older woman gave aventurine another chuckle before leaning away. the snake-like pupils of her silver eyes made aventurine’s skin crawl but he dared to not look away. narrowing down his own eyes at the woman who had given him everything but took it all away with the snap of a finger.

“will my life suffice then?” aventurine was losing his composure when the woman grinned like a vulture. the room was suddenly stilled and small. all he could see was jade baring her fangs at him like a wild animal on a hunt.

“you’ve already given me your life the first time around,” she moved her gaze away from him and instead looked towards you. aventurine’s fist behind his back shook in anger. “i’m starting to think you have nothing of value to give me anymore.”

he scoffed. slamming the goblet in his hand on the table with a quiet bang. jade let out an amused chuckle. “how peculiar, you’re normally more composed than this. don’t tell me you’ve grown possessive of that little princess?”

“we’re fates, madam. we’re always possessive.” aventurine argued, eyes never leaving your figure as you danced across the ballroom with a familiar man.

“oh but not in the way that you are now,” an arm slithered around his shoulder as a card appeared in front of him. obscuring his vision of you. “quite interesting, wouldn’t you agree. i’ve tried so hard to keep this card up right but it keeps flipping upside down. you know what this means right, kakavasha?”

aventurine swatted the card away from his face. the piece of paper slipping out of jade’s hand. he relished in her momentary shock before slipping away from her hold. he gave the card one more passing glance before sauntering towards the dance floor in search of you.

“you’ve made a fatal mistake, child.” jade warns. “the cornerstones are not to be used for someone that’s easily disposable.”

“[name] is not disposable.” aventurine turned to the woman as she scoffed. “they will be of more value in due time.”

“you say in due time knowing that they won’t last until next month.” the woman shook her head, the same white snake he saw earlier resting on her shoulders. “tell me, kakavasha, are they truly worth all this effort? you, a fate that i raised, risking it all for a mortal that doesn’t even remember you or your sacrifices. they won’t remember you because you no longer have anything of value to give destiny.”

aventurine tried to argue back but he felt winded. that all the oxygen he didn’t need to live were suddenly taken away the more jade continued. “you are nothing of value now. do you think your little [name] would still care if you’re no use to them? give up child, you are no longer obligated to protect them.”

“i’m the only one that can.” he countered.

“with what power?” jade tilted her head to the side. her light lavender hair swaying with her movement. “fate is no longer on your side, nor is luck. you are as powerful as a mortal now.”

aventurine took a moment to reply. “i’ll think of something. i always have.”

the woman laughed. the laugh that rang like sirens inside his mind, telling him to turn away, run away to a place where she wouldn’t find him. but it was hopeless. jade was like a shadow he could never escape from. she will always have a leash around his throat. pulling him back when she deemed necessary and suffocating him from the harsh reality.

“you better have a plan, child.” the same predatory glint came back to her eyes. “i have no use for children who can’t pull their own weight.”

 – –

your conversation with veritas ratio was cut short when an arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you back. a surprised gasp escaped your lips when you saw aventurine look down on you with that same grin on his face. “i did say i’d dance with you, no?”

“i vividly remember you saying that you’d ask me. not steal me away.” he let out a jovial laugh that involuntarily made your cheeks flush like wine. 

you let out a cough behind your fist as aventurine took hold of your hand and twirled you around to face him. his bare hand coming to rest at your hips as the other held your gloved one. despite the layers of your dress and the corset you wore, you felt aventurine’s warmth seep through.

“now where has my little spitfire gone?” you turn to glare at him. “ah! there you are, i was starting to think you've mellowed down with all these mediocre men.”

you rolled your eyes as he pressed your bodies together even more when other dancers graced the floor. “careful there my lord, you almost sound jealous.”

“i’m a fate, sweetheart, i’m always jealous.” you furrow your brows in confusion at the new pet name. aventurine was never short on nicknames – both good and bad– and him using them on you was never strange. but it didn’t quell that curiosity that led you to him when he used a new one.

he only smiled, and but for a fragile moment, under the chandelier lights that bathed him in gold, the same color of his hair that captivated you when you first met, you understood why so many women would die for him. if aventurine wasn’t so pointed with his words, so greedy with his fortunes, you might have been a little bewitched by him.

but you couldn’t help but feel shy under his gaze and touch. in this moment, with his very being pressed so close to your soul, you can’t help but wish that you were the fortune that he was always greedy for. you wanted to delude yourself that with every twirl, every lift, and every dip of this seemingly never ending dance that felt like it was torn off a fairytale, he wanted you to be his fortune too.

“penny for your thoughts, friend?” you felt his finger press and prod at the mark near your pulse point. “it’s quite rude to not look at your dance partner, you know.”

you let out a snort. “you must be quite the rude gentleman. you never once looked at the poor ladies you’ve danced with all night.”

aventurine grinned from ear to ear. “so you were watching me?”

blood rushed to your cheeks as you glared at him. “i was not! i was simply sending silent prayers to the poor girls that would fall for charms.”

“oh so now you think i’m charming,” the playful upswing of his voice and eyes did your hammering heart no good. “don’t look so embarrassed, friend, everyone thinks i’m charming.”

“how dreadful.” you say with a roll of your eyes before a quiet atmosphere laid itself on the both of you. you tried not to pay attention to the way his grip on your hand and hip tightened when the music slowly started to fade away and the other dancers began to dissipate. for another moment, you wished for the dance to never end.

“you look beautiful in turquoise, you should wear it more often.” you snapped out of your daze when aventurine whispered a compliment to your ear. but when you turn to tell him off, he was gone.

there it was again, the bitter feeling welling up inside your chest. the mark on your pulse – a single coin that was slowly fading away, the symbol of your deal almost being over – nearly sent a wave of tears to break out from your eyes. the urgent feeling of you needing to tell him something still weighed at the back of your mind, but you don’t remember what it was that you wished to say to him.

“is something the matter?” a soft voice from behind you spoke.

the man had silver hair and the most beautiful golden eyes you’ve ever seen. a crown lay on his head as a halo was behind him. “prince sunday…” you murmur as the prince smiled.

“that is me, yes,” he offered a gloved hand to you. “would you care to dance? if you aren’t tired, of course.”

your mind was torn. one part of you telling you yes, dance with the prince who had the reputation of never asking any lady to dance. live out your dreams of meeting a prince and falling in love with him. but another part of you told you to chase after aventurine. seek him out like you always do. one last time.

in the end, you took the prince’s hand and danced with him until the night ended.

 – –

aventurine was not jealous.

that’s a lie, he was a fate, he’s always jealous. but not the same jealousy he normally felt when he looked over mortals living out their lives peacefully. that feeling of jealousy was normal for him. this type of jealousy as he watched you dance with the prince felt revolting. like someone had stabbed him in his already hollow chest over and over until he breathed his final breath.

he wanted to steal you away again like how he did when you danced with that vampire scoundrel named ratio. but he couldn’t. aventurine no longer had the right to intervene with your life now that your debt was slowly being paid in full.

fates were dangerous beings of magic. they are all possessive and jealous. mortals pray to him and others but they are no saints nor saviors. aventurine was the rumored fate of luck, madam bonajade’s prized successor. blessing anyone who seeks him out but must pay a hefty toll of something greater than they have received if his tasks and criteria are not met.

aventurine recounts the many scandal sheets that were written about his endeavors, the most famous was titled “A Scandal’s Gambit”. the scandal sheet retold his deal with a poor man wishing to elevate his family’s status from poverty. aventurine gave the man fortune and a simple task: spend the wealth to help his family and to not waste it on useless luxuries. but like the card description from the deck of destiny, the fate of luck’s first task is deceitful and blinded mortals. it wasn’t long before rumors about a mysterious man spending questionable amounts of money

started floating around the city.

people began to point to the man as a thief when a duchess came to him demanding he give back the treasures he stole from her. he quickly went back to aventurine, sitting on a velvet couch and a roulette in front of him. he begged and begged for the fate to help him but he was turned away. aventurine later revealed that his second and final task was to keep his family from dying, but since the man was blinded by greed, his wife and child died from starvation. 

“i simply took back the fortune you stole from me.” was the fate’s famous line. and not long, the man tried to flee but was captured and later died in jail. to pay for his failure, the man’s family was taken from him as punishment and compensation for fate’s lost fortune. but what aventurine didn’t realize was that the man’s child survived, and later came to him.

they asked for the same thing. to elevate their family from poverty, but unlike their father, they succeeded and are now reaping the fruits of their labor.

that was what aventurine wanted to believe as he continued to watch you dance with the prince you’ve always dreamt of marrying. you paid a hefty price for this happily ever after and aventurine was willing to take the fall for you. 

your journey after meeting him was nothing short of a heart attack. every twist and turn had aventurine’s nonexistent heart beating rapidly within the columns of his chest. all the tasks and missions he sent you, the times where you were captured and he had to save. aventurine wanted nothing more than for you to remember that he was your prince, not the man with the halo behind his head.

was it wrong of him to expect some sort of thanks from a person with no memory of him? no recollections of how he carried you through freezing waters, pulled you through hellfire, hauled you from the clutches of war and death. aventurine wanted just one simple thank you for saving you. but he knew it was too much to ask for.

after using the cornerstone of his fellow fates to reverse time after your unfortunate death, he had to painfully relive your first meeting, your trials and adventures, and see you dance with the man you married in your first life.

aventurine no longer had anything valuable to give to destiny so it took your memories instead. he made sure it was your memories and not you entirely. you were the most valuable thing aventurine had, and he’d be damned if you were taken from him too for a second time.

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[campingwiththecharmings]

Birthday

AN: Yeah, um, idk y’all. I meant for this to be like just a little sad and somehow this happened a;dlksdl;kd. I kinda like it though? idk. Totally fair if it’s not for you, no worries. Thanks for reading if you choose to ❤️ Credit for the idea comes from this post (many thanks). I did have another idea that was more domestic so maybe I'll do that one later as a pallet cleanser lmao

(Un-beta’d)

It's Poe's birthday and all he wants is to spend it with you.

Rated: T Words: 1,016 Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader Warnings: Angst, feelings of loneliness/sadness/loss, kind of a bittersweet (but hopeful?) ending. AO3

——————

The morning sunlight streams into the room, warming the air to the point where Poe is kicking his sheets to the end of the bed. The climate on D’Qar was usually pretty balmy, but somehow it always seemed to get worse around this time of year. Poe stretches, his arm brushing the empty space where your body had lain mere hours before. He sighs, disappointment settling in his belly. He loves waking up with you, thinks it’s the perfect way to start his day—the two of you tangled together, exchanging raspy “good mornings,” smiles, and languid kisses.  

Maybe tomorrow, he thinks, rolling out of his bed with a grunt. He runs his hand over BB-8’s domed head on his way to the fresher, yawning a ‘good morning’ to the droid (who chirps merrily) as he readies himself for another long day. The light flickers on when he opens the door, the brightness of it making him squint as he heads over to the sink. He brushes his teeth, splashes some water on his face, and is looking around for his comb when he sees the piece of paper stuck to the mirror. His lips quirk when he recognizes the familiar scrawl of your handwriting, his eyes fondly tracing the slopes and angles of your words. 

Happy Birthday, Poe ❤️, it says, followed by another line where you tell him you’ve left a surprise for him (his favorite breakfast) on his desk.  

Sure, he would’ve preferred waking up with you, especially today, but this is good too, he supposes. 

Your note (which he may or may not be carrying around in his pocket) and gift lighten his heart and boost his spirits, and he spends the morning smiling and graciously accepting birthday wishes from what feels like every member of the Resistance. He tries stopping by your workstation sometime around late morning, but is told you’re off-base on a repair. His mood is dampened a bit, but he tries not to let it get to him, knowing the two of you will run into each other eventually, as you always do. 

As the day goes on though, Poe only gets more frustrated, seeming to just miss you every time he has a free moment to look. When he returns from flying drills with his squad, he gets word that you’d stopped by the hangar looking for him, but he gets pulled into something else before he gets the chance to chase you down. BB does his best to raise his spirits but even the little droid can tell that your absence is taking a toll. 

The day flies by, the moons rising over the base before Poe even notices the time. He’s exhausted, so much so he turns down an offer for drinks at the cantina with Finn and Rey. All he wants is to fall into his bed and sleep (if only in hopes that he’ll get to wake up with you in his arms). He trudges back to his quarters, wearily running a hand through his hair. 

Poe keys in the code to open his door, shuffling inside the dark room with BB-8 in tow after it slides open. As it closes behind him, he pauses, a familiar scent reaching his nose. He turns, his eyes landing on a small, floating light. 

No wait, not just a light…a candle. 

BB-8 chirps happily beside him, rolling toward the light and the dimly lit familiar figure he now sees holding the candle.  

It’s you. Standing there in the middle of his room, holding what looks like a keshian spice roll topped with a single lit candle. Poe smiles, his heart lifting in his chest as his eyes meet yours. You smile back, holding his gaze as you begin to sing to him, your voice soft and sweet. The sound of it fills him with a warmth he hadn’t realized he’d been missing until now. He walks over, reaching you as you finish the final words of the song, his brown eyes alight with joy. 

“Thanks for being born, Flyboy,” you say, smiling fondly as he leans in to blow out the candle. 

Poe chuckles as cheers from you (and beeps from BB) fill the room. For some reason, the moment suddenly feels nostalgic, reminding him of his childhood on Yavin IV, of the celebrations he’d shared with his parents. The memories are bittersweet, from a simpler, more peaceful time in his life. He wonders if he’ll ever get to have that again, that peace. It feels impossible, the war with the First Order seemingly never ending. An ache settles in his chest at the thought. 

The familiar sensation of your hand slipping into his brings him back to the present, the gentle glow of his bedside lamp now illuminating the space. He can tell you want to ask, ask where he just went, ask if he’s okay given you’d both just been laughing a moment ago but…you don’t. Instead, you smile at him softly, squeezing his hand as you patiently wait for him to work through his feelings. He realizes then just how lucky he is. Sure, he’s smack dab in the middle of a war and, yes, he could die at any given moment but, he also has so much. He has a purpose, a place he belongs, people he loves; it’s in that (in them) that he finds his peace. 

Poe gazes at you, his brown eyes gentle and warm as they trace the lines of your face. Then he leans in, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss. You sigh, the fingers of your free hand bunching in the fabric of his shirt as you melt into him. After a moment, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours. 

“Happy Birthday, Poe,” you breathe, smiling at him as you reach up to comb your fingers through his curls, your hand coming to rest at the base of his neck.  

“Thank you,” he whispers, the look in his eyes telling you he means for more than just the birthday wishes.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

🌟 Masterlist 🌟

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[welcometothejianghu]

Welcome to another round of W2 Tells You What You Should See, where W2 (me) tries to sell you (you) on something you should be watching. Today's choice: 少年歌行/The Blood of Youth

The Blood of Youth is a 2022 live-action adaptation of the tale of a deposed, disabled, and incredibly cunty prince who's on his way back to settle the score with his asshole father, and the rag-tag band of weirdos he accumulates along the way, including Spear Girl, Bad Monk, and Fire Puppy (pictured above).

I hope you like shounen anime, because this is the most shounen anime something is allowed to be without actually being based on something running weekly in Shounen Jump. What if Nirvana in Fire were also Naruto? It would be the Blood of Youth.

This show is an underrated gem of action-packed fun that not nearly enough people in English-speaking fandom have seen. In an attempt to correct that -- and ahead of an announced second season and prequel in progress -- I'm here with five reasons you should try it out.

1. Zero thoughts head empty

You do not have to pay an enormous amount of attention to this show to understand what's going on. The show itself does not always know what's going on. It got distracted by a shiny object over there, and now we're all gearing up to go punch the shiny object. We'll get back to the main plot when we're done with the punching.

It has a million billion plot threads going on at any given moment. Bad guys roll in from sects you've never heard of before, using superpowers with stupid names, only to get kicked into next week. There's approximately eleventy thousand characters -- so many, in fact, that I ran into problems several times while making this rec post, because there aren't readily available photos of everyone I want to talk about. Just look at the DramaWiki cast list. See how it goes on for like fifty screens? That's a little what the show feels like.

Except I'm not saying that like it's a bad thing, because the show knows it's doing this, and it acts accordingly. It telegraphs pretty well who's important and who isn't (and then it goes out of its way to color-code the latter, which is handy). What you're left with is absolutely a manga-style plot, complete with training arcs and semi-relevant sidequests, all working up to the final boss match.

It is an extremely self-aware show. On multiple occasions, something would happen, I would crack a joke about it, and then a beat later the show itself would make the exact same joke. I wouldn't call it an outright comedy, but it's still very funny, and on purpose. It has no illusions about being some kind of profound, meaningful epic. Mostly it's just here for a good time.

Yet this lightheartedness is what makes the powerful emotional parts really powerful by contrast. The show is not stupid; it's just goofing around most of the time. When it knuckles down, it can be devastating. And you know what? It does wind up being profound and meaningful about some stuff. How about that.

So yeah, if you're up for something that bops merrily right along and only occasionally rips your heart out, here you go!

2. Putting the poly in polycule

Bisexuals, rejoice! It's representin' time!

Here you go, I made a relationship chart of about 40% of the show's potential and canonical ships. I could have included so many more, but I only had so much space on the image, so I had to leave out some amazing ones, like the sword hedgehog who's real into this one cougar who could easily wipe the floor with him, or the rich nerd who thinks he has a chance with the aforementioned hot butch, or the fancy MILF who cheated on the emperor with a dreamy jianghu man and is trying not to cheat on him again with a different, slightly less dreamy jianghu man. See? There's just so much.

I would also say these are not exclusive ships. They are extremely inclusive ships. I am a fan of most (though admittedly not all) of the pairings listed here, and in fact of many of the three-and-more-somes indicated by these lines. They're such a cuddle puddle of shared intense feelings that it's hard to imagine anyone getting more than mildly jealous. Moreover, the potential for romance does not get in the way of hetero friendships; a boy and a girl who are each dating other people can go do adventures together, and (mostly) nobody gets weird about it, which is nice. If anything, what makes the overall dynamic so polycule-like is how equally friends and love interests get treated, meaning that it's not difficult to see a lot of crossover potential between those two categories.

If you're like me, you're hesitant about canonical romance, especially when it's straight, mostly because so many straight love stories wind up being tiresome, gross, and/or skull-poundingly boring. You will then be pleasantly surprised by how the canon pairings with members of the main cast are not like this at all!

Xiao Se and Sikong Qianluo are the main textual romance, and golly gee, they're just cute as heck. As the chart above indicates, I like interpreting them as two Kinsey 6's who have found their single exceptions, Mulder-and-Scully-style. Maybe one of the best things about their relationship is that it gets sidelined all the time for the plot. They're not so busy being in love that they forget to get shit done. Then they get a bit of downtime and get to go on a date, and you're like, aww, those sweet gay disaster babies are gonna do a little bit of heterosexuality. Just precious.

Tang Lian and Fairy Rui are right up there with the cuteness. She's a sex-positive dancing beauty who wants to ride that pretty boy like she stole him, and he's a shy sword boy so tightly bottled up that he'll explode if he sees a bare ankle. Avoiding spoilers, I will simply say that this is a pairing of two relatively soft people, until a bad thing happens to one of them and the other hardens up about it. If that's your jam, they're here for you.

Lei Wujie and Ye Ruoye are probably the most magical and the most practical of the bunch. They have a beautiful, super-dreamy, really horny sword-dance meet-cute, complete with its own pop song ... and then that's it, they're basically just together. She likes him, he likes her, good for them. In-laws aside, it's a refreshingly low-drama situation. Besides, I always love it when the hypercompetent woman gets the sweet, devoted himbo who'd do anything for her. Ruoye's had a hard life, and she deserves someone who can dick her down good at night and make her a nourishing breakfast the next morning.

And then there is, of course, The Ship:

Xiao Se and Wuxin are canonical, textual soulmates. The show treats their dynamic as more important than any other. It's so important, in fact, that the show has to sideline Wuxin for huge parts of the drama, lest everything get too damn gay. They each get a boyfriend catch on the other. They both do fairly reckless things when the other is in trouble. They are the secret hidden happy ending to the series. They share the kind of ride-or-die relationship built on mutually being the hugest bitches in any given room. Whether or not you think this is romance, it is extremely romantic, and the series agrees as much as it can, all things considered.

And if none of those flavors of love float your boat? Well, have you considered ... eunuchs?

3. She likes e4e

So I'm on record as being real into eunuch characters, right? Well, if you're with me on that, you are in for a treat here, because these are some absolutely buck-wild eunuchs.

There's five main ones, and I can't even begin to scratch the surface of what's going there. Like, really, I don't even think I understood all of what was happening with them. They're kind of the bad guys, but then they're kind of the good guys, but then some of them are the bad guys, but then they're just working for the bad guys, but then they screw over the bad guys, and ... it's just a lot, okay? It's a lot, and it's all happening with this bunch of catty bitches.

Also, you would not believe the difficult time I had finding any images for this section. I guess for some reason, fandom isn't way into a bunch of canonically dickless color-coordinated middle-aged men in weird hats? Whatever, man, they are missing out. If, however, you have the good sense to be into the intense and complicated (semi-romantic??) relationships among colleagues who also professionally just happen to be missing their external genitalia, buddy, strap in (and maybe strap on, depending).

Don't let me oversell how much these guys are in the show. They're not. They're vaguely important at points throughout, and they become incredibly important near the end, but they're hardly main characters. They're mostly back at the palace, doing their various schemes and looking absolutely fantastic.

So if they're such a minor part of the story, why do they get their own selling point? Well, I think their presence is a good example of two specific things about the show:

Specific thing the first: It's so queer -- not gay, but queer. Thinking back to my last selling point, you will notice how many of those straight pairings may look normie on the outside, but once you get down to it are not playing by cishet rules. (For instance, I've seen a lot of people read Tang Lian's resistance to sexual advances as asexuality, which, sure!) Likewise, there are lots of incredibly important, intimate relationships that don't conform to standard romantic pair dynamics. Add to that a lot of bodies with unusual characteristics and conditions, and you've got the makings of plenty of delightful non-normative love stories.

Specific thing the second: There are so many things going on with so many side characters that there's a kink here for everyone. Don't care for eunuchs? How about slinky villains with mind-control powers? Devoted servants who would do anything for their masters? Former bad guys who owe life-debts to the good guys who saved them? Bonded pairs traipsing around the jianghu together? Sons nursing legitimate grudges against the men who killed their fathers? Alcoholic widowers with incredibly slutty necklines? Mysterious cross-dressers with unconvincing moustaches? Vengeful brides? Martial siblings? Murderous royals? Guilt-ridden half-siblings? Boring star-crossed lovers? All these and more! It's a smorgasbord of rarepair fuel!

Also, I just love these toxic drama queens. It's like if RuPaul's Drag Race had the authority to have you executed.

4. The most intriguing outfits I've ever seen in anything (and yes, I'm including Winter Begonia)

Time for a fashion show!

The asymmetrical fits, the detailed embroidery on everything, the brilliant colors -- everybody just looks so good. And yet everything still looks ... eh, I don't know if "practical" is the word I want, but at least wearable. Nobody's dragging ten-foot trains of fabric behind them or wrapped in eighty floofy layers of gauze (except Rui, but she's special). Their outfits are strange and elaborate, but they don't defy physics.

What's truly stunning is how often they get new outfits. Xiao Se alone changes clothes about once every other episode, and more if he's getting a flashback. He is the fashion plate of the whole series, and every look he serves is pitch-perfect.

They're not outright color-coded, but the main characters do have certain colors associated with them -- which is extra-fun when you watch those colors bleeding into their friends' clothes as their relationships get stronger. I also think -- and I'm willing to be proven wrong on this point, but I think I'm right -- that they recycle some characters' outfits into parts of other characters' outfits. On more than one occasion, I'd swear that Lei Wujie shows up wearing the left half of something Xiao Se was wearing a few episodes back (tailored to fit him, of course, because that dumb ponytail boy is tall).

Where I think the costume design gets massive points, though, is that the costumes are themselves adaptations.

Before the live-action series, there was a 2018 3D animated donghua. I have never watched the latter, but apparently the drama is intensely faithful to the animated visuals, to the point where some fights are shot-for-shot remakes.

Of course, you can do a lot more with unreal clothing and bodies in animation -- and you can show a lot more skin, at least according to Chinese content laws. The live-action costumers chose to preserve about as many of the appearance beats from the donghua as they could manage, while still accepting the limitations of real-life bodies and materials. You can see some side-by-side comparisons here. The live-action outfits manage to be instantly recognizable without being slavishly devoted recreating to their inspirations.

So if you're sick and tired of dreary, ill-lit shows with bland palettes, this vibrant, colorful drama may be just the thing for you. It's a rainbow from start to finish.

5. Actually a good central plot?

Despite all the wacky delightful shounen nonsense that this show has -- and it has a lot -- the core of the whole narrative, which is Xiao Se's story, is surprisingly great and cohesive.

The short version is this: Xiao Se used to be Xiao Chuhe, sixth prince and somewhat heir apparent. Then he and his jerk-ass dad had a falling-out that resulted in the prince's having his martial arts abilities all but taken from him. He's been living the life of a very well-dressed innkeeper for several years, trying to avoid all of that palace garbage. But now his jerk-ass dad is dying, which means that a lot of horrible decisions are finally having unfortunate consequences for everyone, and Xiao Se's got to get back in there to make sure everything does not go to shit and land someone terrible on the throne -- even if it has to mean taking it himself.

His central conflict is between what he used to be and what he's become. Does he miss being Xiao Chuhe, high-ranked martial artist and future emperor? Or is he happier being Xiao Se, long-suffering nobody who can barely run a business, much less hold his own in a fight? What would he be willing to do to get back what he's lost? What are his obligations to himself versus his obligations to everyone else? How much is he responsible for his father's bullshit? And why has he wound up having to babysit this stupid Fire Puppy?

It's okay, they're best friends now. Lei Wujie decided.

No spoilers, but I liked Xiao Se's ending a lot. I feel it's very true to the character and shows a real understanding of who he is and what he values. And really, at the end of the day, sometimes all you need for a happy ending is your girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend, your girlfriend's girlfriend's boyfriend who's also your boyfriend, your other boyfriend, his girlfriend, and your long-distance for-real soulmate.

Feel like giving the youths a try?

You can find them on YouTube or on Viki. But be absolutely sure that no matter where you watch it, you make sure to go watch the epilogue as well. (And if you get real into the story, well, here's a link to information about all the other adaptations.)

You are also welcome for how I did not spend this post going off for five hundred years on how much I love Wuxin and his funky relationship to Buddhism. I figured that's way too niche of a selling point for most people, and might indeed have even been counterproductive. But know that I could have.

Also, I'm very happy about the announcement of a second season, because that's going to mean Liu Xueyi has to shave his head again, and he looks unbearably good with a shaved head.

Oh yeah, did I forget to mention the whole motorcycle photoshoot?

In case you hadn't noticed, the whole cast is stupidly hot. Hachi machi.

[opbackgrounds]

With all respect, you sound weirdly over the top with this one Nami side-plot and demand way more coherency of it than anything else in the manga. You treat Sanji's love-heart gags way more seriously than Nami's abuse gags (or Luffy's eating ones or Chopper's infoptency ones), too. It sounds like a really bad-faith reading tbh. [For example, the dress line fits with Nami's fashion obsession which has legit reasons and her being used to being taken advantage of is literally her origin story, but you pretend like those readings don't exists?]

Well, firstly, this is my reading of the manga. I'm not going to go out of my way to think of how other people might interpret a scene, because that's not what I'm doing here.

Secondly, I've been very vocal about other storylines I don't like, including Chopper being incompetent, but the subplot with Absalom has been the most sustained bit of bad writing in the manga. It's going to get more attention, because there's more of it. There will be more negativity in the future when I get to other things I don't like. Fans of Punk Hazard, you have been warned.

Thirdly, if I've given the Absalom-Sanji-Nami story a bad-faith reading, you've given a bad faith reading of my analysis. My issue isn't and never has been Sanji's love-sick chivalry--I wouldn't have defended his fight against Kalifa during Enies Lobby otherwise--it is the tonal dissonance between the subject matter being displayed and the character's reaction to it. I even praised the parts of his fight with Absalom that highlight his self-sacrificial nature, even if it makes him act ridiculous such as taking a stab wound to avoid getting blood on Nami's wedding dress. That's silly, but it's the sort of exaggeration that suits the series, and fits in the same category as Nami hitting the boys when she's annoyed with them.

Like Hogback, Absalom's actions are coded with the language of male obsession and objectification, sexual assault, and rape. Both characters only only care for the objects of their obsessions because of their victim's physical attractiveness. The implication is Hogback gave Cindry a post-mortem boob job. Nami literally gets attacked while she's bathing. They're very similar characters, so I think it's fair to ask why they're treated so differently by the narrative.

I also said that I believe the marriage subplot could have been written in a way that's more innocent and lighthearted, but Oda merrily skipped over the line once he included the imagery of sexual assault. That is my line in the sand, and it is absolutely a black mark on both Sanji and the series as the whole that Oda decided to highlight the similarities between he and Absalom instead of their differences. It moves the character from chivalrous dweeb to sex pest, and it's a decision he's doubled down on many times as the series progresses.

Nami being okay with being forcibly changed into a wedding dress after being drugged into unconsciousness by someone who tried to attack her because she "is fashion obsessed" is patently absurd, as is her being "used to it" because of her past. What I was trying to express is that it would have been nice if Nami had gotten as angry at what Absalom did to her as she did when Lola was attacked. Perhaps I didn't express myself well in that regard, but all in all I stand by my criticisms.

[fuckingsimpthatswho]

One Piece incorrect Quotes

part 2 because they are funny

Sanji: Wait, hold up, why you draw yourself like that? Usopp: Uh, like what? Sanji: Like with gorgeous, muscular legs. Usopp: Uh, this is what I look like. Sanji:

Usopp: THIS IS WHAT I LOOK LIKE! Sanji: Okay, then I want big beefy arms. Hot ones. Zoro: I wanna have a cowboy hat! Usopp: Okay, arms and hat. draws them Luffy: Ooh, give me a cowboy hat too! Usopp: You can't just take Zoro's hat idea, Luffy! He thought it up all by himself like a good person! Come up with your own thing! Luffy: BUT I WANNA LOOK COOL! Nami: Put Luffy on one of those stupid baby tricycles. Luffy: NO!! Usopp: Tricycle, done. draws it Brook, want anything? Nami, making finger guns: Pew pew. Usopp: A blaster?! No, that's not really our style, Brook. Brook, making finger guns: Pew pew. Usopp: You know what, okay. draws it But it's just for holding, not for shooting.

Brook: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life. Franky: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back… Robin: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this. Zoro: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years. Nami: I knew I lost that potential somewhere. Sanji: Mental stability, my old friend! Brook: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

Franky: From now on we will be using code names. Franky: You can address me as Eagle One. Franky: Chopper is “been there done that”. Franky: Robin is “currently doing that”. Franky: Brook is “it happened once in a dream”. Franky: Nami is “if I had to pick a gal”. Franky: And Usopp is.. Franky: Eagle Two Usopp: Oh thank god.

Luffy, watching Zoro and Sanji from afar: Two Bros, Chillin in a hot tub. Five feet apart because they think they’re not gay, BUT THEY REALLY ARE-

Usopp, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe? Nami: Yeah, sure. A few minutes later Nami: Here you go. Usopp: Nami: Sanji: Why am I here?

Chopper: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed. Usopp: Usopp: I'm gonna tell them. Nami: Don't you dare.

Nami: We’re going to a candy store?! Usopp: No! It’s nighttime, candy stores are closed. Chopper: We’re gonna ROB a candy store?!?! Usopp, sighing: No-

Chopper: How do I ask someone out? Nami: Roses are red, violets are blue, guess what, my bed has room for two. Chopper: No! Usopp: Twinkle twinkle little star, we can do it in a car. Chopper: Stop! Robin: Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily I can make you scream. Chopper: I feel like the last one is verging dangerously into serial killer territory.

Chopper: Who would you kill out of the four of us, Nami? Nami: Usopp, easily. Usopp, laughing: What the fuck, man. Nami: Well, Sanji would be too easy. They’d probably be into it. Sanji, now standing in the doorway: What the fuck, man!?

Chopper: Today at 7 am, Robin poured a Monster energy drink in their coffee, said "I'm going to die" and drank the whole thing. Nami: I watched Robin brew their coffee with Monster instead of water. Three cups in two hours. I think they ascended into the astral realm. Usopp: The survivability of the human race never fails to amaze me.

Franky: Know why I called you in here? Robin: Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic. Franky: Stops pouring two glasses of wine. Accidentally?

Sanji: Stops making lunch an stand there confused

Franky: What are you in the mood for? Robin: World domination. Franky: That's a bit ambitious. Robin: You are my world. Franky: Aww… Robin: Franky: Robin: Franky: OH.

[chaifootsteps]

just a warning - this is slightly nsfw

so back in season one I assumed the show was actually doing something smart with the way Stolas, despite being the more sexually aggressive one, was the bottom and Blitz the top

I thought it was supposed to be a reflection of the relationship - that Blitz has to put in all the work to please Stolas while his own needs go ignored. that it was reflective of Stolas being a prince and wanting Blitz to serve him, merrily ignoring Blitz's own preferences or comfort the entire time

but looking back on it I notice that while Stolas did still say things that imply he was the receiver in the early episodes of the show (Murder Family rant down the phone) there were also lines suggesting some level of force from his side, too - in Loo Loo Land Blitz says 'wait til her dad tries to diddle your holes' and tells Stolas directly 'if you try fucking my ass in that park', which imply they were switches at some point in time and that Stolas certainly molested him in addition to demanding Blitz sleep with him

but the minute the writers decided Stolas was the good guy, he basically became the bottom in the relationship and nothing else. what had looked like a sophisticated portrait from Viv about how the 'submissive' or bottom partner can be the abuser and the top/dominant one can be the one being used turned into her trying desperately to imply that because Blitz is the one who's 'in control' in the bedroom it can't possibly be coercive on Stolas' part; it's a friends with benefits deal and she'd like everyone to stop reading into it, thank you very much.

as far as the show seems to be concerned, only the active participant in sex can be the abuser! now let's sit back and watch the fandom apply this exact logic to Stella because she was proactive about having one egg so she didn't have to sleep with Stolas anymore whereas Stolas was just passive

all of this gets even grosser considering Barbie's human form has brown skin, effectively coding Blitz as a POC and Stolas as his rich white master. And it's not uncommon even today for black men to be treated like sexual fetishes, just 'studs' for the pleasure of white women (or white twink owls as is the case w/Stolas) which certainly seems to be the case with Stolas reading 'imps in the sheets' books. but the show doesn't really want to engage with the fact that fetishization is just a different kind of degradation on Stolas' part.

Glad you pointed this one out, because it's easily overlooked and usually is. It's also pretty telltale...the period of time in which Stolas was unambiguously an antagonistic figure and nobody argued this point was synonymous with the period of time in which he played a more dominant role sexually.

"If you try fucking my little ass..."

"Wait 'til her dad tries to diddle your holes."

The belief that passive, penetrated partners are more submissive and can't be abusers is one that should have died over a decade ago, but here we are.

[hermesserpent-stuff]

a starter bit for red eyed kitten au

@honey-minded-hivemind

Remy is... stressed. The mutants had gotten crazier and crazier; snatching babies from mommas in hospitals, stealing people off the streets… 

He bites his lip as he rubs at his eyes. They are such a danger. Such a horrid danger that could get him snatched from the Theives Guild. They had shifted further into the shadows over the last twenty years, but out on missions… well it can be hard to hide them. They tend to glow when he feels too strongly. 

He snarls a bit at the papers in front of him.

“You good petit?”

His brother Henri asks, ruffling his hair. Henri had been the one to adopt him and bring him into the Guild when Remy was seven. Before then, Remy was not entirely sure how or where he had been living. All he knows is that he has deep scarring around his neck and wrists, blurry memories of fear and darkness, and pain. But nothing solid. Nothing like a clear timeline. Maybe mutants had tried to take him? Maybe the anti-mutants had tried to take him?

He had tried to pickpocket Henri as he had pickpocketed many before, but Henri had caught him and decided to take him in. Keep him safe. 

Remy chuffs.

“Bein. Just bein.”

He pokes the plans. 

“Looks like a rats maze Henri. Can't solve it.”

“You need a break.”

Henri chirps and pokes him gently. Then pushes him. His brother prods him into a skirmish. His brother uses his Escrima sticks and Remy swings his bo staff. Eventually, they both lose their weapons and they are rolling on the floor. Remy nips at his brother and eventually wins through Henri tapping out.

“Brain cleared?”

“Oui!”

Remy says while panting. He goes back and writes down his thoughts.

--

Remy should have trusted his gut. This mission had gone sideways. It was supposed to be a simple run, with a touch of complexity. But! There are mutants here, and the Guild is good!! But not good enough to fend off so many mutants. 

Fudge.

He meets Henri’s eyes and does a three-tone whistle. They have to change up their strategies. He pulls out a deck of cards. His brother sucks in a painful-sounding breath and then they both are running the gauntlet, trying to get to the door. Remy charges his cards violently. The fusha sparks all around him. Things go boom and his veins sing merrily.

“They got a mutant!!!”

“DUCK!”

“He has explosions!!”

“Aim for the mutant!!”

The screams and yells overlap with the chaos of the fight. Remy spins and ducks things being thrown his way. He is now the center of attention and he can see the other thieves getting away.

Something hits his leg and he goes to his knees. Remy meets his brother’s eyes from across the room. He blinks two letters in Morse code. G. O. And then a sharp whistle, warning that he is gonna blow. He can already feel whatever was in his leg starting to chill his entire body. Henri shrieks.

“Don't you dare-!”

Remy slams his hands on the ground and starts charging, releasing the sharp whistle again. Then a small tune. One for final goodbyes. 

He hears the response whistle and his heart warms with his brother’s love a final time. Then…. Another dart to his leg. He lets his charge go as his world goes black.

He hopes to not wake back up.

But he does. In some barebones room full of pillows and blankets, with other youngsters who are sniffling a bit nearby. His body is shivering violently. Ah. the knock out drug they used was one of the ones that took his powers, ate them up, and left him colder than the arctic. He can feel a blanket on top of him. 

[maxwell-grant]

Any thoughts on AKI in SF6?

I haven't had a chance to play the game yet and I might do a more thorough look into the newcomers after I do sit through World Tour, but yeah I got some AKI thoughts. Holy shit what a design. Top 15-20 in the series, it is one hell of a different thing to watch it animated by the character's personality and moveset and vibe. We expected some FANG-isms, some Juri-isms, but certainly not that. We expected a cold, even generic assassin, not someone who merrily treats the penal code like a list of chores.

It was pretty funny seeing the reaction to her develop from "oh she's FANG's apprentice, okay I guess, not sure anyone was asking for that", to "is she the new Juri, she's got a really similar vibe", to "holy shit Juri's got NOTHING on her". In reaction to her popularity, SF6 had been doing a lot of great character work on Juri that, while making her much more developed and entertaining as a character (cringe failgirl Juri was such a revelation) and dramatically more interesting as a person, also really limits the extent to which she can be a straight-up villain anymore. Much like how FANG was designed to fill the void left by Sagat, AKI here crashed the scene to fill the void left by Juri, and so she gets to be not just completely 100% horrible (where as Juri is like, 70-80% horrible), but also SCARY in a way Juri never could be. She gets so, so much out of not being designed for sex appeal and coolness first and foremost, she's like the D'Vorah to Juri's Mileena.

She's a horrible, predatory character, and much like Marisa, I don't think she would have been allowed at all to exist the way she does had she debuted prior (you just know they would have not given her those sick ass pants or given her a different haircut or a cleavage window or something stupid like that). The development team for V repeteadly stated that there were ideas for a new assassin apprentice character related to Gen thrown around and that some of those made their way into FANG and Seth, and AKI is the end result of that very long refinement process. She's the resident freakshow character in the tradition started by Blanka and Dhalsim, and she's the outrageous over-the-top counterpoint to the more traditional martial arts like Chun-Li or even Jamie (much like Adon, or Necro). She's the understudy of the kung fu assassin villain, and in a way akin to Menat she's the young new apprentice of a prior character who acts as a stand-in for that character on the roster and driven to prove her worth before said character, while also being a modern do-over of said character.

(And for the record I actually like FANG quite a bit, a lot more than most of the other V characters. He played like garbage and his execution was lacking and couldn't make up for a terrible first impression in the fanbase, but the design and character and concept I thought were very solid and I'm glad AKI shows they didn't give up on it but took steps to improve on it, I'm glad to see him again in 6).

She breaks new ground for the series by leaning strongly into a horror wraith vibe no other character had before, and she's the Street Fighter equivalent to characters like Voldo, a horrible contortionist slasher villain who doesn't fight you so much as she just passionately and exquisitely butchers you while getting off on it. Her moves are incredible, superbly characterized, she feels vicious and oppressive to watch but still hits that note on FANG's where the playstyle is meant to be tricky but overspecialized and beatable at close range. And while she's designed to be a much more explicitly serious and deadly-looking character than FANG, they even give her goofy little flourishes like blowing bubbles shaped like FANG (and getting pissed if you pop them), his propensity for bird-like arms flapping, and an uncharacteristically childish victory dance akin to Chun-Li's.

She is as cadaverous as Juri is tempestuous, openly referring to herself as a ghost, and when she isn't losing her shit in contorting fits of laughter over success, she has a remarkably chill, upbeat disposition when spouting horrible things to the protagonist or fake poisoning them for laughs. She has an incredibly distinct personality more so than any especially developed inner life, and that's kinda the point: that she has wholly and completely sublimated herself to her role as FANG's tool, by choice and intent of her own, and that's part of why she's a real deal villain.

She was raised by him, she likes what he likes, she is obsessed with everything he is and has done and will do, hates everyone that isn't him, considers him her master and teacher and father and husband all in one, and her romantic fixation and love for him is meant to be deeply disturbing in every way imaginable (and only not a total dealbreaker for me because FANG in no way reciprocates or encourages it or is able to do so, even AKI understands as much), and that they may eventually have to kill each other doesn't deter her one bit.

Despite those surface similarities, there is quite a lot that sets AKI apart from Juri, chief of those being that Juri was victimized by Shadaloo and in response fashioned herself into an instrument of vengeance and turned monstrous as a result, where as AKI actively chose her life and chose being molded by someone else, running away from home and following FANG every step of the way without any regret. Even FANG himself had little choice in his own life, kidnapped as a child and forced to partake in horrible training under which every day could be his last, raised to value nothing but survival at all costs.

Perhaps this in itself is the strength that FANG saw in AKI, that she gets to choose and does so with far greater intent than even himself. That she's someone who could fully understand the horribleness of the Nguuhao methods and lifestyle and want for that and nothing else, to consciously partake in such grueling torture of mind and body and lovingly decide that she can't get enough of it.

And in itself this pairs interestingly with the very idea of giving FANG a dedicated protege sidekick, a character beat that the series has come back to again and again, and takes on an entirely different tone here. I think a lot of what makes AKI's obsession interesting to me in a way these usually aren't, is not just because it's creepy, but because it's ultimately sad and pathetic, and parallels FANG's own craven worship of Bison. It's such a great dynamic, a miserable cycle perpetuated by miserable people caught on the wrong side of that glorification of self-improvement, inner strength and the great heroes and masters who can pass it onto others that the series uses so frequently, and it makes AKI even greater as a character for it: because now we have a true dark mirror for the driving motivation of many of our characters. We have our fucked-up toxic counterpart to every Sakura, Mika, Menat, and Sean out there.

She sees him as he saw Bison and more, and the fact that she is much more threatening and overtly competent and scary than FANG is offset by the fact that worshipping Bison is a wholly different thing than worshipping, y'know, FANG. We comprehend, on some level, FANG's worship, because M.Bison is supposed to be, at minimum, a cool imposing megavillain we're meant to like on some level, which is certainly not true for FANG. SF6 has been very clear on that, that even though he's been given a much slicker outfit, and is keeping a low profile to plot from behind the scenes, this is still very much FANG, every bit the conniving, petty control freak from before.

AKI is a cool, hypercompetent death machine able to scare the pants off the main villain, and she labors desperately day and night, to the point of crying if she fails, to meet the approval of a ridiculous, pathetic man who, no matter how deceptively cunning or dangerous he may be, is only cool to her. Much of why I think FANG worked and was necessary in the first place was because he was designed around the vacuum left by the Four Kings and to contrast them, as what kind of man would it take to work himself ragged running Bison's schemes and being unfailingly loyal to him and Shadaloo, opposite Vega and Balrog's sporadic barely-there alliances and Sagat's outright betrayal. We needed an anti-Sagat, a proper bastard of a Number 2 to run the show in secret. And AKI adds a lot of poignancy to that in that she is much of what FANG can't be, even as she wants nothing more than to be like him.

It's one thing to have somebody who really looks up to and makes an effort to imitate the cool and impressive and heroic World Warriors, or someone influenced by imposing villains like Balrog or Sagat but ultimately decides to carve their own path. It's another thing entirely for maybe THE most obsessive protege character in the series, someone who actively has no identity outside of servitude to her master, to revolve around FANG, the dastardly bird man, who made his debut in a story by hunting down and melting an innocent woman, and grossly and animastically licking her ashen remains off his fingers. What kind of person would decide that this sickening, vile creep is deserving of worship and following until the ends of the Earth?

(art by @remy2fang)

Well, maybe the same kind of person who would consciously look at the likes of M.Bison in the first place, someone they intuitively understand "will reign death on all living beings", and upends their life on the spot towards becoming that man's eternal servant. Someone who seeks self-fulfillment through no other means than the pursuit of strength and knowledge as tools to subjugate others and appease their master. The darkest corruption of the master-student dynamic that defines so much of the series. You couldn't ask for anything more fitting, for the poison specialists.