#View-Master Interactive Vision

[muppet-facts]

Muppet Fact #1371

In the game Muppets Studios Presents: You're the Director, Yolanda the Rat is given the name Yolanda Steele, and is an executive in charge of keeping the Muppets production under budget.

Source:

View-Master Interactive Vision and Jim Henson's Muppets Programs. Muppets Studios Presents: You're the Director. View-Master Interactive Vision, 1988.

[tygerbug]

[hardcore-gaming-101]

Top 47K - Tekken 3 + Muppets' Studios Presents: You're the Director

Join the HG101 gang as they discuss and rank the Tekken where Tekken became Tekken. Then stick around for the game where you tell a Frog and Pig what to do!

[pinkxpantha]

Suspicions, Scones, and Scandals.

diluc x GN!reader

#: synopsis- How the year long secret between you and Diluc is revealed, turns out the greatest bachelor of Mondstadt isn't a bachelor?!

#: cw- 3.4k words, they/you pronouns. Use of Mx, Traveler is left up to interpretation (Aether or Lumine), Kaeya, Venti, Paimon also mentioned, secret relationship, established relationship, Diluc loves like it's the only thing he knows how to do, fluff, Diluc is in mourning (you went to fontaine) no s/o = no life, Donna mentioned for a sentence and lowkey can't decide which one of you to be jealous of, no beta we die like Crepus.

Diluc polished the glass he held in his hand. It was quiet, beautifully so. The loud chatter of drunkards during the usual weekdays were now replaced with the delicate silence of his environment.

Diluc could see his own reflection in the wine glass, it glinted with the casual lighting of Angel's Share. 

Before he heard the door creaking open, he saw the peaks of blue. Who else could it be other than Kaeya.

He waltzed through the door, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards when he saw Diluc.

Diluc turned to face his brother, clenching his jaw in preparation for the relentless teasing he's recieved for the past few days.

Diluc made the fatal mistake of glancing over in your direction when you were talking to someone.

 Kaeya picked up on this immediately. Like a sponge he soaked every single interaction between the two of you to compile into a theory of Diluc's clear infatuation over you.

As much as Diluc wished Kaeya would stop sending him playful glances each time your name was brought up, he couldn't deny some of his words held a hint of truth to them.

Although he wouldn't say ‘his eyes had their own heartbeat’ whenever he glanced at you. whatever that meant.

“Ah, Diluc! Pleasure to see you here.” Kaeya greeted. Flashing him a small grin as he sat down on the stools in front of the bar.

“I wish I could say the same to you.” 

Kaeya only laughed in a placating manner.

“Brother, is that any way to treat your future best man?” 

Diluc deadpanned at Kaeya's audacious words.

“What do you want?” He sighed as he threw the rag over his shoulder.

“Aside from good wine, a fine chat would do.” 

Diluc swiveled around after he got Kaeya's order. 

“I'm not your in house entertainment,” he spoke. “If you wanted entertainment you should've come during the weekend.”

Diluc huffed and placed the empty glass in front of Kaeya.

“Better yet, go elsewhere.”

Kaeya shrugged, “Of course Master Diluc, I'll keep that in mind for the future.”

Diluc continued to prepare Kaeya's drink. The sooner he left, the better. He didn't need to hear his incessant teasing. 

If he glanced back, he might've seen Kaeya's gaze locked onto his gloves. 

Kaeya carefully investigated the lumps of fabric. Was it just the light playing tricks on him, or did that seem like the outline of a ring?

Soon the tavern door opened again, and Diluc resists the urge to sigh. 

Yes this is his job, but that doesn't mean he has to enjoy all parts of it.

Diluc sets Kaeya's drink in front of him, his gaze raised ever so slightly.

Then it locks on yours. You look like how he expects you to. You bring him a warmth him pyro vision could never mimic.

Then he remembered who else was in the room with him. He gave you a curt nod, trying to indicate something to you.

“Suddenly the atmosphere feels a lot colder.” Kaeya said.

You cleared your throat, a small black box in your hand. Wrapped in a gorgeous red velvet colored flat of fabric. You fiddled absent-mindedly with the ribbon. 

“Sorry Kaeya, I was just a bit distracted.” 

He smiled as he turned to the side, giving him a better view of both Diluc and you.

Diluc adjusted his tie, and brushed his hair back. Something he clearly didn't think much of. (Unlike the man that stared at him as he did so.)

He huffed amused. ”Don't worry about it Mx. [Name], at least with your company I won't have to worry about someone brooding anymore.”

Diluc shot Kaeya a glare from the corner of his eye.

‘Don't say anything you'll regret.’

Kaeya only smirked.

‘I rarely regret a thing I've said.’

You cleared your throat at the poorly disguised tension in the room. Snapping Diluc out of his in-between conversation with Kaeya. 

“Good evening.” You greeted the both of them.

You walked over to one of the wooden stools. It was solid, carefully made so that even with the hours of use it acquired over its long carrier of chairness you couldn't find a single trace of weathering or possible splinters.

“So what brings you here? I didn't take you for a drinker.” Kaeya hums, taking a small sip of his wine.

You shake your head, “I'm not here to have a drink, dealing with a hangover tomorrow would be horrible.” You shivered. 

“Do you not handle your alcohol well?”

“Kaeya.” Diluc scolds.

“What? I'm making conversation.”

“Don't make me kick you out.” 

Kaeya sighed, curling his bottom lip into a pout in an exaggerated fashion.

“I haven't even finished my drink yet, surely you'd let me enjoy this first.”

You smiled at the interaction.

And just for a second Diluc's eyes met yours. You were looking at him so.. openly? He couldn't decipher that stare of yours. He could feel the slight amusement in your stare.

You were such a force of confusion in his life, but with you he didn't need much reason. His ears tilted red with each second longer your eyes met together. 

You took pity on him, breaking eye contact first. “I'm not a lightweight, I just tend to go overboard.”

Kaeya chuckles at the clarification. “Aha I see.”

You placed the box onto the counter, the sound amplified by the silence that shrouded the room.

Diluc leaned over the counter of the bar, he used his elbow as a prop for his head. He blinked at the foreign object. A slight intrigue made him want to open it.

But… three's a crowd.

Clearly that sentiment slid out of his brain, bouncing around the room before it pointedly made its way to Kaeya.

He paused before sighing. “As much as I would love to indulge in these tendencies I do have some work to get back to.” Kaeya placed the mora he owed onto the table, before taking out a flash attached at his hip and pouring the rest of the wine down it.

“Ah, already?” You murmured.

“Unfortunately so.” He nods, “Very well then, see you both soon.”

You both bid him goodbye, and he sent a wink(you think??) in Diluc's direction.

As soon as you both hear the click of the door the atmosphere concentrates around the two people in the room. Both of you relax, a breath of shared comfort between the two of you. 

You nudge the box closer to Diluc, his red hair falling against his face slightly as he tilts his head in your direction.

Archons you really need to know how he keeps it so well maintained..? 

“This is?” He picks the box up in his hands, it feels miniscule in his palm.

“For you.” You said simply.

He blinked, “What's the occasion?” 

You shook your head, “It reminded me of you.”

He hesitated. A gift from you wasn't a rarity, yet it still felt odd each time he recieved one just… because?

He opened the box, it was two things. A hairpin. It was a solid metal, the imagery of a flower with its petals dyed red. Golden accents adorned the sides. It shimmered in regality with the dimmed lighting of the tavern glinting against the metal.

The next piece was made in similar fashion. The silhouette mimicked the frame of the hairpin but in a much more minimalistic fashion. It was a gorgeous deep red, a notable tie clasp.

“These.. are beautiful, [Name].” He said. 

You agreed, “So, you're calling yourself beautiful?” 

“...” 

Before he could sigh from exasperation he saw the teasing glint in your eyes. “If that's what you see me as, I can't help but not trust your judgement.” He leaned further into you, a small smirk playing against his lips. 

You felt your face warm up, for a guy that was so content with shrouding himself in intrigue and mystery, his eyes betrayed that reputation. 

They were so clear, if you looked directly into them you might've seen the mini Diluc’s running around scrambling to formulate his thought process.

The ombre of red and orange harmonized into a blazing ichor that threatened to swallow you whole.

He looked back at you, and you swore his eyes burned through your soul. His features were so tightly knit in comparison to his wide red eyes.

“You're not being fair right now.. stop looking at me like that.” You huffed.

 “Don't you spend your time searching for the beauties of this world? Don't tell me you've given up on that goal already.” 

This guy… he could be cunning when he wanted to.

You didn't allow yourself to falter, seeing this as a battle risking life or death. There was no way you weren't going to win this battle of flustering the other. (Diluc didn't even know what the hell you were thinking.)

You used your sword, otherwise known as your hand to stab his heart.(read: grab his tie.) You pulled it ever so slightly closer to you. Ignoring how 

You huff, leaning over the counter to grab him by his tie. He jolted at the sudden action, his torso angled over the bar, his hands moved closer to his waist, holding onto the edge of the wooden panel to steady himself.

Your fingers make their way closer to his neck, never straying from the fabric of his tie. He swallowed thickly as he watched you concentrate on fixing it.

As much as he doubts there was nothing wrong with the way he tied it, he.. appreciates the way you look up at him, just for a split second.

“Of course I haven't.” You said.

Diluc saw your lips move before he could hear you. He snapped out of his daze, the proximity between the two of you reduced to the length of a ring finger.

 “I haven’t taken a picture of you.”

Diluc pulled away, noticing how you already clipped the pin onto his tie. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent the chuckles of amusement from slipping out. He had turned away from you, it was a desperate attempt to hide his reddened skin. 

More than ever is he glad you two are the only ones in the tavern.

You see him rub his face, the traces of red starting to dissipate from his neck and ears. You can't help but smile. You can't tell you're smiling because of his reaction, or the fact he's allowing you to see him like this.

“[Name]..” He turns back to you, his lips pursed together.

“Diluc” You responded, taking in his full appearance. 

The gentle slopes of his face, the harsh curves of his jaw and nose. They all worked together in a polyphony to create the the person you admire so dearly.

“Ah, that reminds me. Unfortunately I have a business trip to attend in a fortnight.” You broke the silence of the room.

He lowered his head to meet your gaze. 

“Should I bring anything back for you? A gift.. a recipe.. I'm sure I could learn to cook something for you.” You offered. Diluc's face paled.

The thought of you cooking something for him used to be a pleasant fantasy. But seeing it in practice turned any thought of you stepping into the kitchen into a nightmare.

You might as well have had a pyro vision the way the stove went up in flames. 

“I… appreciate the sentiment.” He grimaced. “If anything, I wish you to return to me safely.”

You smiled back at him, bemusement tracing the corners of your mouth.

“Of course. I'll make sure to have a good time as well!” 

He hummed. “Don't slack off.” 

“I won't I swear–!” You exclaim, jabbing your finger in his face.

You both continue to talk, in a way only the two of you know of each other. Barriers and walls broken to build a bridge between the two of you. 

These words are a well kept secret between the two of you, at least for now.

You leave the tavern when more people begin to filter in as the sun sets.

Time truly didn't stop for anyone. It wasn't long before Diluc had to bid you goodbyes. Time failed to capture the moments he spent with you leading up to that. 

A month had already passed since you left, his favorite place to be during that time was at the dawn winery. Letters you wrote came to him every other day. 

You were safe, and it sounded like you were enjoying the time you spent in fontaine. He no longer had to relive the first week of sleepless nights worrying about your well being.

He was in the dawn winery again, a newer letter in his hands. Diluc traced the wax seal, one he specially commissioned for you. 

He began to peel it off, a twinge of eagerness coated his fingers in a newfound fervor. 

Just before he could read your letter, he heard a familiar high pitched voice.

“Master Diluc would totally help us!”

Was that..?

“The traveler maybe, but you and I are on the same level!”

He looked up to see the traveler and their floating companion, along with venti matching their pace.

From the corner of the doorway he could just barely make out Adelinde's sheepish expression.

 “Traveller, it's good to see you here.” Diluc greeted, resisting the urge to sigh at the interruption.

He subtly slipped the envelope on the dining table behind him.

“Hey! How come Paimon doesn't get a hello?” She huffed, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

“Hello Paimon. Venti.”

“Told you.” Venti shook his head, ignoring Paimon's pointed glare.

Traveler quickly spoke up before Paimon could get provoked, “We have something to give you.” They handed an envelope to Diluc. 

He quirked a brow as he looked it over, undoubtedly from you.

Diluc hasn't been keeping tabs on The Traveler's journey, but something must have led them into Fontaine.. 

He let himself open it— the wax lifted under the nail of his finger.

Eagerness. Anticipation. You're right by his side– he swears. You play with his senses to a degree he cannot fathom. As he stares at the photocard of a few scones, he imagines he's sat across from you.

He could practically hear your indecisive ramblings about what to get. ‘The beignets sound tasty– oh but what about the blueberry scones? I'm not feeling for blueberries though..”

“Can't believe the traveler's been demoted from honorary knight to delivery service!”

For a second you coat him in a warmth– so entirely reminiscent of you. Diluc grieves the nights devoid of you.

“It's a noble job Paimon, I'm pretty sure you've made Diluc's week!”

Even before he saw your name signed at the back, he knew it was from you. He covered his mouth. He could recognize you in fields towered higher than his gaze. It's yours. You. You. You. You. 

“Eeh? Whaddya–?”

Diluc looks up (unfortunately,) to see the black, amber, and green eyes looking back at him.

.

.

.

“Diluc must really like Mx. [Name]’s letter.”

The traveler breaks the silence.

“Now I'm curious, what could they have written to awoke such a reaction out of him, any theories?” Venti playfully questioned.

“Maybe it's a love letter!” The pixie answered with too much giddiness. 

“It's definitely blackmail.” The blond smirked. (Furrowed brows? Check! Gotta be something incriminating.)

“It's neither.” Diluc deadpanned. “Don't make such uninformed guesses.”

“Uninformed? But Mx. [Name] said they'd sent a buncha letters! But they haven't gotten a response.” Paimon insisted, the unspoken words of ‘Diluc would totally ignore someone's constant love letters if he had the choice.’ underlined her speech. 

“The trip from Mondtsadt to Fontaine is a long one, I only started to receive their letters two weeks ago.” Diluc shook his head, (a poor attempt to quell the fairy's theorizing.)

“We could always pass on a message?” The traveler offered.

“I wouldn't mind!” Venti chirped.. for some reason?

Paimon grumbled, “you're not included in this Tone-Deaf Bard!”

“ Eh? I was planning on visiting Fontaine soon anyways.” Venti replied, pouting only to further provoke the floating child.

Diluc quickly cleared his throat, (just in time to prevent the childish duo from bickering with each other.)

“If the traveller is offering, I do have something I want to give to [Name].” 

Venti squinted, but didn't say anything. 

“Of course,” The traveler agreed.

Diluc quickly drafted a note, not taking long to compile his thoughts into words meant for you.

The group continued to talk amongst themselves, bidding Diluc their goodbyes after he handed them the note enclosed in an envelope. 

He saw them off to the door, leaving them with one final parting message, to not open it.

He saw them walk off into the distance. Diluc sighed as they left– relief admittedly washed over him. 

But it was short lived.

The recognizable high pitched wails of the ivory haired tag-a-long was enough to confirm he'd have a lot to talk to you about as soon as you returned. 

It must've been a millenia till you did,

 The breeze of Mondstadt made each step you took feel lighter. You could smell the scent wafting from good hunter's the moment you passed the gate.

You barely noticed the few pointed looks in your direction. One coming from a hard to remember face. (who was wondering who she was supposed to be jealous of.)

You ignored it, only wanting to do one thing. You practically floated into the tavern where you asked a certain someone to meet you when you came back.

You walked into the tavern, the brazen hours of daylight left behind you.

“Nice to meet you again, Diluc.”

His eyes snapped to your person, widening at the sight despite your predicted arrival. He got out of the area behind the bar to take you into a warm embrace.

No matter your stature, getting hugged by Diluc feels like a blanket covering you, protecting you from the outside world. He takes over your senses, the warmth of being home. 

“I suppose you miss me?” You muttered after he pulled away. He was close enough to hear even the slightest change in your breathing.

“More than I could ever admit.” He breathed out, more than glad to have you back.

“Did anything exciting happen while I was gone?” 

He sucked in his teeth with a slight furrow of his brows. “I wish it was more mundane actually.”

“Huh. Tell me more?” 

You both made your way to one of the multiples of empty tables. You both spoke in hushed whispers despite there not being a single person to overheat. 

“I'm sorry, dear.” Diluc apologized, his head resting in his hand, his fingers covering a bit of his eye. Red bangs would have fallen on top of his calloused digits if not for the familiar hairclip pinning them back.

 “Don't be sorry, it wasn't your fault at all.” You let your fingers rest on the side of his face, tilting his head to look into your eyes.

He had told you about the incident, how Paimon's curiosity led to the whole of Mondstadt knowing the most eligible bachelor wasn't a bachelor at all.

It didn't help that the first line was ‘To my dearly beloved,’ unmistakably written by him.

It wasn't long before the ‘secret’ spread along Mondstadt's greatest gossipers, Diluc was out of stock.

“I understand you didn't want this kind of publicity, but I'm okay with it.” You insisted.

He looked at you, his eyes weary with exhaust. Whether it was because he was worried over your reaction or the scandal seeping his energy, you didn't know.

 “[Name], you don't need to pretend it's fine, we agreed this would be a secret.” Diluc grumbled.

You remember that vow, the publicity of dating one of Mondstadt's most notable figures would have been incredibly pressuring. 

You didn't know if you were ready for that.

 “It was something I expected if I'm being honest. I'm well prepared, love.” After all, if you were to progress your relationship to the next level, it would be an even bigger shock if Diluc was secretly married.

Maybe this was for the best..?

You put your hand onto the table, your palm facing up as he moved his hand to meet yours, keeping his grip on your palm secure.

“No matter what happens, we'll do it together, okay?” You vowed.

Diluc looked at you warmly. Even without a pyro vision, you don't think he'd ever be cold to you.

A beat of silence passed, and he rubbed the back of your palm with his thumb. His glove rubbed against the peak of your knuckles.

“You look tired,” He whispered listlessly. 

You bantered, “I could say the same for you.”

You both stood up, Diluc kept his hand locked in yours. “Let's go home.” 

And you couldn't want anything more.

I HAVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR TOO LONG IM SO GLAD ITS OUT OF MY DRAFTS

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Sigal Samuel at Vox:

There’s a dominant narrative in the media about why tech billionaires are sucking up to Donald Trump: Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, and Jeff Bezos, all of whom have descended on the nation’s capital for the presidential inauguration, either happily support or have largely acquiesced to Trump because they think he’ll offer lower taxes and friendlier regulations. In other words, it’s just about protecting their own selfish business interests. That narrative is not exactly wrong — Trump has in fact promised massive tax cuts for billionaires — but it leaves out the deeper, darker forces at work here. For the tech bros — or as some say, the broligarchs — this is about much more than just maintaining and growing their riches. It’s about ideology. An ideology inspired by science fiction and fantasy. An ideology that says they are supermen, and supermen should not be subject to rules, because they’re doing something incredibly important: remaking the world in their image. It’s this ideology that makes MAGA a godsend for the broligarchs, who include Musk, Zuck, and Bezos as well as the venture capitalists Peter Thiel and Marc Andreessen. That’s because MAGA is all about granting unchecked power to the powerful. “It’s a sense of complete impunity — including impunity to the laws of nature,” Brooke Harrington, a professor of economic sociology at Dartmouth College who studies the behavior of the ultra-rich, told me. “They reject constraint in all of its forms.” As Harrington has noted, Trump is the perfect avatar for that worldview. He’s a man who incited an attempted coup, who got convicted on 34 felony counts and still won reelection, who notoriously said in reference to sexual assault, “When you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything.” So, what is the “anything” that the broligarchs want to do? To understand their vision, we need to realize that their philosophy goes well beyond simple libertarianism. It’s not just that they want a government that won’t tread on them. They want absolutely zero limits on their power. Not those dictated by democratic governments, by financial systems, or by facts. Not even those dictated by death.

The broligarchs’ vision: Science fiction, transhumanism, and immortality

The broligarchs are not a monolith — their politics differ somewhat, and they’ve sometimes been at odds with each other. Remember when Zuck and Musk said they were going to fight each other in a cage match? But here’s something the broligarchs have in common: a passionate love for science fiction and fantasy that has shaped their vision for the future of humanity — and their own roles as its would-be saviors. Zuckerberg’s quest to build the Metaverse, a virtual reality so immersive and compelling that people would want to strap on bulky goggles to interact with each other, is seemingly inspired by the sci-fi author Neal Stephenson. It was actually Stephenson who coined the term “metaverse” in his novel Snow Crash, where characters spend a lot of time interacting in a virtual world of that name. Zuckerberg seems not to have noticed that the book is depicting a dystopia; instead of viewing it as a warning, he’s viewing it as an instruction manual.

Jeff Bezos is inspired by Star Trek, which led him to found a commercial spaceflight venture called Blue Origin, and The High Frontier by physics professor Gerard K. O’Neill, which informs his plan for space colonization (it involves millions of people living in cylindrical tubes). Bezos attended O’Neill’s seminars as an undergraduate at Princeton. Musk, who wants to colonize Mars to “save” humanity from a dying planet, is inspired by one of the masters of American sci-fi, Isaac Asimov. In his Foundation series, Asimov wrote about a hero who must prevent humanity from being thrown into a long dark age after a massive galactic empire collapses. “The lesson I drew from that is you should try to take the set of actions that are likely to prolong civilization, minimize the probability of a dark age and reduce the length of a dark age if there is one,” Musk said. And Andreessen, an early web browser developer who now pushes for aggressive progress in AI with very little regulation, is inspired by superhero stories, writing in his 2023 “Techno-Optimist Manifesto” that we should become “technological supermen” whose “Hero’s Journey” involves “conquering dragons, and bringing home the spoils for our community.” All of these men see themselves as the heroes or protagonists in their own sci-fi saga. And a key part of being a “technological superman” — or übermensch, as the German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche would say — is that you’re above the law. Common-sense morality doesn’t apply to you because you’re a superior being on a superior mission. Thiel, it should be noted, is a big Nietzsche fan, though his is an extremely selective reading of the philosopher’s work.

[...]

The broligarchs — because they are in 21st-century Silicon Valley and not 19th-century Germany — have updated and melded this idea with transhumanism, the idea that we can and should use technology to alter human biology and proactively evolve our species.

Transhumanism spread in the mid-1900s thanks to its main popularizer, Julian Huxley, an evolutionary biologist and president of the British Eugenics Society. Huxley influenced the contemporary futurist Ray Kurzweil, who predicted that we’re approaching a time when human intelligence can merge with machine intelligence, becoming unbelievably powerful. “The human species, along with the computational technology it created, will be able to solve age-old problems … and will be in a position to change the nature of mortality in a postbiological future,” Kurzweil wrote in 1999. Kurzweil, in turn, has influenced Silicon Valley heavyweights like Musk, whose company Neuralink explicitly aims at merging human and machine intelligence. For many transhumanists, part of what it means to transcend our human condition is transcending death. And so you find that the broligarchs are very interested in longevity research. Zuckerberg, Bezos, and Thiel have all reportedly invested in startups that are trying to make it possible to live forever. That makes perfect sense when you consider that death currently imposes a limit on us all, and the goal of the broligarchs is to have zero limits.

Vox has an insightful article on the disastrous vision that broligarchs like Elon Musk, Marc Andreessen, Peter Thiel, and Mark Zuckerberg subscribe to.

[101suouexpressions]

How Umemiya seems to be the epitome of Suou's image of adulthood and a proper teacher/mentor

It is a subtle thing, since we rarely see Umemiya and Suou interact with each other, but somehow, Umemiya is surprisingly fitting into what Suou called "adulthood".

Suou's definition of adulthood and a teacher/mentor seems to blend a bit from the way he uses these terms somewhat interchangeably. Nonetheless, it is certain that he is talking about a certain role model. Of course, he doesn't just say them for show. Suou understands it and is striving to become the same kind of adult that he looks up to.

Imagination, experience, ability to turn imagination into reality

One can say Suou only officially has his debut after he went against Kanuma of Shishitouren in chapter 11. It was the first time us readers had a glimpse of his mind. Here, he talked about 'the first step up the staircase to adulthood' - Imagination and Experience.

While having been graphically demonstrated right after this panel, this idea comes back in a different form in chapter 96, where past-Umemiya explained his motivation to become Fuurin's leader.

In his imagination, Makochi would be a town of happiness, and no longer the notorious lawless delinquent streets. And for that to become reality, he needed to be the leader. Umemiya had both the vision and the ability to make his wish come true.

Bonus: The theme of 'adulthood' is concurrent even in Umemiya's flashback.

We still don't have much of an idea on what Umemiya's caretaker at his orphanage and the mysterious ex-student of Fuurin entail, but this is just an interesting note.

Sympathy is the key element to adulthood and mentoring

Quoting the man himself, it is important to not only understand but truly engage with one's situation to be able to help and be supportive to them. This has been clearly reflected in the way he mentored Nirei.

First, he attempted at understanding Nirei's feeling (after their battle with Keel), not by giving himself the right to guess but letting Nirei express himself. His action unexpectedly coincides with Umemiya's words to Sakura - to be able to connect with others, you have to willingly accept them as they are.

Then, Suou could find out what Nirei needs (to protect himself and fight back at the same time). The flexibility in his ways really starts to shine through him adjusting their lessons according to nirei's goals and intrinsic ability. This, is 'engagement' to its fullest.

He also let Nirei practice in real situations (while keeping said situation under monitoring, of course) in order for Nirei to gain experience. Moreover, Suou always encourage him afterwards!

In Umemiya's case, this more so implied in the way he was unwordingly preparing for Sakura to be the next leader (which I went into details in this post). Umemiya understands what kind of person Sakura was, and let him, a first year, encounter dangerous situations so that he could grow. Umemiya tended to not tell Sakura what to do, but rather observe and point out what was a possible path (fighting is also a conversation)/what he lacked (how Sakura needs to rely on his teammates more).

Bonus: Suou has a very strict standard when it comes to what a good teacher should be. After all, Suou himself was trying his best to become a good mentor to Nirei. All of this is suggested to come from how he views his master (very brief flashback from chapter 110).

This has been so much fun to write and I fully encourage discussions on this topic (surely I am not the only one who is insane about wkb). Thank you for reading until this line!

[verecunda]

I personally see that "torture" conversation again as gaslighting from Annatars side, to be honest. Because (I double checked again to make sure i am not mistaken) "Never in Tolkien's lore does Morgoth torture Sauron. Some moments could imply such an act, such as in The Silmarillion where it is mentioned that Morgoth would have, if victorious, destroyed even the beings that followed him" - So to me it has that even ... Crueler twist of Annatar just trying to gaslight Celebrimbor again. Maybe that is just me though! And maybe in the series Morgoth really did unimaginable to Mairon. WHO KNOWS

Hi, Anon! This got long-winded, so bear with me here. XD

That is certainly a viable reading of the scene, and I definitely think we should never take Sauron at his word because, well, he’s Sauron. But honestly, I think it’s much more interesting, much more horrifying, if he is being honest here.

First, to get the lore stuff out of the way: agreed, nowhere in the books are we told Morgoth ever tortured him. But at the same time, we’re never told he didn’t. Sauron was obviously his most valuable and trusted servant, but he still was that - a servant, an underling, subject to his master’s caprices. And we don’t have any scenes of them interacting directly that allow us to gauge their relationship; we just have a handful of references that can be extrapolated in multiple ways. (For full disclosure: I’m an enthusiastic Angbang shipper, and I tend to view their relationship as more or less positive, one of the only good things they have going for them, but I try to keep an open mind on what canon does/doesn’t tell me.)

Most notably, take the scene where Sauron is defeated by Lúthien and Huan. She tells him she’ll send his spirit back to Angband : “There everlastingly thy naked self shall endure the torment of his scorn, pierced by his eyes.” Whereupon Sauron flees, and we hear nothing more of him till after the War of Wrath. We don’t know anything that he does in the meantime; we don’t even know if he returns to Morgoth’s service (the Lay of Leithian does suggest it, but the published Silmarillion gives us nothing either way). Whether or not Morgoth would actually punish him for his failure is probably beside the point: the point is that Sauron clearly believes punishment is a likely outcome. There are other ways you could parse this bit (and I do have Feelings about it!!) but the most obvious reading is that it’s terror of his master’s likely response that sends Sauron into hiding. So overall, it’s an ambiguous scenario, but there is certainly room to interpret a darker take on their relationship, and even allowing for deliberate ambiguity, it does seem to me that the show creators have chosen to explore that darker take.

To return to this particular scene, I don’t think he’s trying to deceive Celebrimbor any more - now that his true identity is revealed, outright deception is no longer going to work, because why would Celebrimbor believe anything else he says? Better to reel him back in with the truth. In that scene, I think Sauron is actually trying to make him understand his grand vision for the “healing” of Middle-earth. We already know he believes that's what he's doing. I don’t think he views Celebrimbor as an equal, no way, but I think he does consider that Celebrimbor’s ambitions chime with his own.

But crucially, his failure here is that in baring his soul and talking about the genuine suffering he’s gone through, he inadvertently reveals just how warped and ultimately irredeemable his own mindset has become. We actually saw this first with Galadriel at the end of s1: Sauron reveals his relief at Morgoth’s defeat, his feeling that a “great, clenched fist” had been released from about his neck - yet just a couple of minutes after that, he repels her because he admits that he sees saving Middle-earth and ruling it as the same thing.

It’s the same in the tower scene. Revealing his torture by Morgoth does engage Celebrimbor’s sympathy, but he loses it almost at once when he starts talking about his pain being a triumph of his own willpower, then especially when he breaks out all the textbook abuser lines about how Celebrimbor has “forced” him to hurt and deceive him. I don't think he would have said all that if he was just lying. All that self-justification strikes me as the response of someone who has suffered, but has never found a healthy way to process any of it, and who has ultimately gone on to continue the cycle of abuse. And when Celebrimbor demolishes all these self-justifications - “You can deceive even yourself” - I think Sauron's expression there speaks volumes. That’s the look of a Maia who has just been hit where it hurts, because rather than being taken in, Celebrimbor has just confronted him with exactly how damaged and fucked up he really is.

[milfism-blog]

Bar of Destiny

Melissa Schemmenti x Fem Reader

Summary: You are going through a confusing path of self identity. Will your views on life change when you meet an Italian redhead in the old sports bar? 

Warnings: Inner homophobia, comphet, alcohol consumption, mentions of hetero relationship, little angst, fluff, Smut.

Word count: 6.3k

Author`s note: I hope you'll like it, trust the process. My requests are open for your suggestions\ideas. Feedback is always appreciated! Enjoy the story!

On a boring Friday evening, you found yourself in a cheap old bar where men were watching tv and talking shit about their wives. How did you end up there? Well, let's start from the beginning then… 

You heard a lot about the self identity crisis but as far as you knew it was mainly common for men in their late 40s. But you certainly were not a man and not that old. To reconsider your life choices and the most calming and thinking spot you could master became this decrepit bar. Growing up in a conservative household with a single mom and being an older sister certainly gave you a hard time. So you mustered a plan to leave this lifestyle and never get back. But some principles, morals and negative attitudes towards the lgbtq+ community stayed. But again you also knew the saying “The gayest people are the homophobes”. And to be completely honest just one little thought about being or trying something with a woman was scaring you to death. And you came here to show yourself that you are a straight woman who can be in a relationship with a man.

You accepted this challenge from yourself, but if you at least like men a little bit you probably would not call it a challenge. To ease your anxiety, you are sipping your beer carefully while sitting alone close to the bar counter. The bar is supposed to close in 3 hours and you still haven't found a good looking man. To put it mildly, all of them looked strange or not to your taste. So far no more than sharing a gaze with a bartender. He was the most normal? Out of all…?

After a while, you sensed an intense stare. And surely it was not from the bartender he had enough work to keep him busy. You looked around yourself to catch the observer but nothing. But the uneasy feeling of being watched is still present in your mind. Your lateral vision caught some movement on the other side of the bar. You tried your best not to interact or make any eye contact. Again you came there to find a guy or try to. However, even a single conversation or hint is uncomfortable, to put it mildly, now back to the incognito viewer. He revealed himself by sitting beside you. The first thing that got your attention about the mysterious man was his perfume which hit your tender senses. You never were a fan of the men's cologne… It was so strong yet you could detect notes of floral-musky fragrance. That could be sweet notes from the female perfume. The idea provided you with little comfort.

Compared to the others at this establishment, he didn't seem as scary. His hazel eyes were on you, seemingly surveying your evening attire. You did the same scanning his choice of clothes for the lonely Philly bar. Taking a close look at his face, brows turned upwards, eyes bloodshot leaving the expression of sadness perhaps sorrow. Dirty uniform and strong smell of mixed vodka with beer. Which is known for being a hell of a hangover. The red handprint on his right cheek. All this has been telling you that this man has been dumped by a woman, the strong one apparently who does not hold back. 

The man got the courage to start a conversation with you. His words were slurred a bit mixed with a rough Philadelphian accent. His voice is smoked with raspiness. You usually loved raspy voices but if they belonged to women, not to men. Once more your mind still wanders to women. Anyway, returning to the subject in question, the forced conversation, you couldn't call it a conversation, it was more of a monologue, you were answering from politeness. 

“What's a girl like you doin here? Aren't ya scared ya gonna receive unwanted attention with this dress of yours?” He questioned with little teasing in the last sentence while wiggling his eyebrows.

“Already got that.” Rolling your eyes you mumbled so he would not hear the words leveling your lips.

“Don't ya be scared I am a good guy, I`m Gar by the way.” He smiled, giving you his hand for a shake. You were thinking about turning him down but you had a task to accomplish, make sure that you would find a man.

“Nice to meet you.” You forced out.

“It's not that I'm prying but why are you here?'' You made an attempt to shift the topic from you to him. You would rather listen than talk about your business and share it with a random man. 

By asking this question you opened the whole pandora box of problems. The guy has been sharing with you like you were his therapist. However, to be fair, he started talking about his job. Most of the time people don't remember his name, only the fact that he is some “vending machine guy”. Women don't like him. You almost chuckled at that. “Gosh men are so dramatic” - you thought to yourself.  

“Ya are a woman, why don't they like me? I have the body of a young man, I work out regularly, I buy them gifts and all I'm left with is a broken heart.” He complained. Signing sadly.

“If I am a woman that doesn't mean I can answer this question. There might be a lot of factors, maybe you are just not their type. Things happen.” You don't even know why you were answering his rhetorical question. 

“Yeah but, I thought that I had found my woman, for real now, I thought that she was the one. Everything was fine, amazing even. I planned a dream proposal for her. I knew that she was a huge Eagles fan and I was going my way to make a deal with Jalen Hurts himself to play our song. He read my words that I had put on the paper for her. And you know what she did? –” 

There was a long pause. He took a big gulp of vodka. Hissing as the burning liquid traveled down his throat. 

“She said: "No "! Can you imagine, I made all this for nothing, she burned down three years of my life! She is the wrong one. I was perfect. I bought her gifts, her favorite snack from the vending machine, and asked her out to the cafes. One time I even saved MY money up so I could pay for our special cruise. And all this for nothing, for the rejection, best years spent on this bitch!” 

He was whining and complaining like a fifth year old boy who did not get his way on the toy that he wanted to buy. “Gosh respect, come on!” - You thought. You tried so hard not to laugh at his face. He is so miserable as a person by himself. A man in his late 50s calling a bitch a woman who turned him down. “Just learn to accept rejection, hadn't he had half of his life to learn it?”. When your mind was lost in thought your ears peaked at the description of his ex.

“But her beauty, ohhh, her body to die for. The tight fitting outfits were showing off all of her gorgeous body. Her eyes are emerald green, red looks of voluminous hair, make-up was done flawlessly, always put together…” He sighed in the memory of his past lover.

Yes, you kind of liked his description but the sad part was that he cared the most was her looks. He said nothing about her qualities as a human. Is she kind? Outgoing? Extrovert or introvert? Does she like to hang out in bars or is she more like a stay at home person? You were having all these questions even though you never saw her. She might be cool if she pissed him off this hard.

__________________________________________Life works as the most humorous TV show that you can only imagine. Garry the man you met at a bar a couple of months ago. Now you were dating? Or so you called it.  More like friends with benefits or relationships without any responsibilities. Well to briefly describe your dynamics as a couple. He was working, you were working, nothing cool was happening. To be fair he tried to organize some dates but they were horrible. You two would always end up at the oldest, rastest bar in the whole town. Just so he can “legally” watch football during your date. If you are completely honest you did not mind, every time he was occupied it felt like a breath of fresh air. Some free time? You were not only “dating” but also sharing a flat. First it was chipper for you to save some money and secondly he was never there. 

Why were you with him in the first place? Experiment..? Or this one of many excuses. Nonetheless, you set boundaries with him. He was too lazy to work on gaining your trust or any sort of effort in these so-called relationships. But the lack of effort simply led him to spend time with his dudes watching football and all that boring men stuff. It didn't matter if he was occupied with work or if he was having fun with women, you simply couldn't care less. 

The main point was that you chose him, and you were living with him so that equals you are attracted to him. If you are finding him attractive that matters that you are attracted to men…? Right?

Despite this miserably boring lifestyle you got yourself into. You went to the bar again. If he can “cheat” or have fun with other women. Maybe you could try to find someone better than him? It was like your tradition at this point to get to that bar to drink beer or something stronger and that usually helped you to forget about your non boyfriend? Or what should you call him? But instead of seeing men there you saw her…

The beautiful stranger was sitting near you at the poorly lit bar. You were curious how she ended up here? Was she sinking her sorrows into the poisoned liquid or was it just a hard week? Did she break up with her boyfriend? Who in their right mind would not treat her right? This time you enjoyed the company of a captivating stranger. Maybe she did not know you liked her calming aura. But she doesn't need this information or she would think you are a creep. She probably has a lot of men beneath her feet. Ready to do anything for her. 

Using your side vision desperately trying not to stare you noticed her brightly red locks. Her hair was like a halo reflecting the red in her hair. Her green eyes were shining with sadness. You started to wonder who had hurt such a beautiful flower. Her delicate fingers firmly held onto the glass with cognac the courage liquid. Index finger playing with the rim of the glass. Debating whether or not she should talk with you.

“Are ya alone here hun?” - Thick Philly accent had brushed over your sensitive ears.

Your gaze was so fixated on her beauty that you missed what she said or asked, you were not sure. It felt like a dream. Like she was not real. You thought you had too many beers to process the situation you are in. Woman simply cannot be this magnifying and most importantly real… In flesh and blood sitting near you.

“You were talking to me?” You answered nervously. Playing with the rings on your fingers. Why were you nervous?

“Yes, we’re the only one’s here.” She gestured around the bar counter. As if it is the most obvious thing in the world. But you did not care if there were people or not, she was the one that took your interest.

Yes, yes you're right sorry.” You suddenly felt so embarrassed in front of this attractive woman. 

“You don't have to be sorry about anything hun. I was wondering why ya would be in a place like this? Why would such a fragile young pretty girl be here?” She asked with curiosity and concern evident in her voice. 

Your mind stopped in its tracks when she called you “fragile”. For some reason you liked it. You were a fight girl. You did not need anyone’s protection. But the word “fragile” tenderly slipped from her lips with care made you want something more. Oh here goes this feeling again — 

“You want an honest answer?” You asked with a chuckle.

“If you’d share” She simply answered, shrugging her shoulders.

“I was gonna look for a man but so far they all are disgusting…” you shared your truth.

This answer made a redhead laugh out loud. The good, sincere happy laugh. When she was giggling her face was hit by the sunlight. Highlighting all of her smile lines and freckles. Her eyes finally lit up with joy. You felt a pleasant warm feeling in your chest. You liked that you could add more smiles to her peach colored lips. 

“I was expecting’ anything but that answer–” her laugh betrayed her.

“Ya are funny, ya know that?” Her eyes sparkled with contentment. And for some reason you wanted to make her smile and giggle more… gosh her laugh sounded like the most melodic sound you ever heard in your life. 

“Well thank you, I guess.'' You were unsure of what to say. It's more like being stuck in wonder. Her beauty was so captivating it was challenging you to stay focused on her words rather than on her looks. 

“I’m gonna buy yа a drink, we need to chat and that’s on me.” She leaned closer to you. Trying to appear dangerous so there will be no room for argument. But it had a completely opposite effect on you could smell her sweet perfume, it was making you more drunk than you actually were. Of course, you said “Yes” to this offer!

That night gave you a new friend and companion during lonely nights. You could always call her and share whatever is bothering your soul. She has a guy for every single problem. The closer you got with Melissa the more tension you got in your household with Gerry. He did not like the idea that you were spending a lot of time with another person. Woman to be specific. He did not know her name or her appearance. But when you brought up all the women he has been with while you were at home he would get defensive trying to find insults. Which you found funny, a grown man doesn't know how to talk with you. He never understands you in the first place.

It didn't matter how open you were with Melissa or how close your friendship was getting. You try to hide that private part of your life. It does not feel right. For some strange reason it felt like betrayal. Initially because she shared with you intimate details of her failed marriage and engagement. You were there with every step of her healing journey. When she was angry, sad, lost, depressed. You started to wonder if all men were like this. Clumsy and ignorant to understand what their woman really wants. Maybe dating a woman is better? 

You felt obligated to share with her but the guilt was too much to be fully sincere. Especially with every passing month, it was enough time for you to gain her trust but you were terrified to admit it out loud that you were taken and saying this to her.. would be the point of no return. So your answer to her curiosity was that your life is boring and you simply don't have a partner. Even if she questioned your honesty with her, it was none of her business. First and foremost she was a friend and not a police officer to question you.

But this particular evening in the Italian's house you felt at peace. You loved to be with her. You felt so content. You have everything you'll need, even wine. She was so sweet to share some clothes with you. To be honest you didn’t bring some of Melissa`s items right back to her until her perfume would vanish away. That’s how much you loved her scent? Her—?

If you believed in God you would have thought that the guy was tempting you today. Melissa wore a short pink pj… That was a strong start to the evening. You could not focus on a single thing. Your mind and body were on fire. Your brain was working one hundred miles per hour. It was too much. But she was acting as if nothing was going on. Of course, all this was in your head. She simply was clueless about the effect this item of clothes was having on you. If you were more engaged in gay culture you would know that what you had at that specific moment called “A gay panic…”.

Your eyes started shamelessly to roam her body in the tight pink pajamas. You could not control it. She looked so delicious. The garment showed more creamy skin than you are used to. Of a year of your friendship you TAUGHT YOURSELF NOT TO REACT at all. Be cool about her tight, sometimes revealing outfits. But this – this was way out of line of your control. Your mind was just screaming how incredibly hot she was. If you didn't know better you would assume that she was seducing you. But gosh those hips and tights. Looked so soft it seemed to you that they were begging for your attention. To touch to explore the new flesh that was open for your eyes to see. And your fatal mistake was to move your gaze up to her chest. Now you were trapped, her breasts were one of the most attractive things. First you thought you were just jealous of her size and how confidently open she was with them. But now, it all felt in place, you got it. How full, squishy and tender they really are. To add to this almost see-through top of her pjs. That was a killer. You honestly don't know how men could be so stupid to miss on this real life goddess. The soft skin and nipples peeking out. You thought you were hallucinating, the buds were calling your name “Touch me” the words were echoing in your overstimulated brain. 

Next final thing was her bare face, it was a privilege to see her without a brave mask which included her makeup. She was a little bit insecure about how she looked without it. But all you could think of was kissing her face every part of it, her nose, eyes, temple. To show your adoration not only with words but with actions. Her skin looked absolutely flawless for you. Hell her body was absolutely fire. The other day she was complaining to you that she ate too much pasta and now she has added weight. But goodness gracious all you could see was the healthy curved body of your favorite woman. You loved her butt the second thing after her breasts and face of course. Even though you were absolutely drooling over her body and sexyness. You were better than a man. At least you respected her more and loved listening to her stories. Back to the subject, her kooley as people in Philly say is a work of art. All natural and seizable. You could only dream of putting your hands there and outrageously roam, pinch, caress all sorts of things. To feel it closer to you to get a better feeling. 

Her hair was put down, all that was left of her styling was a slight wave at the ends of auburn hair. She might not like how she looked like this but god you loved to see her like this. Bare face, less clothes (obviously), and natural hair structure. It was giving you an allusion to the ability to fantasize and experience domestic life with her. Where she is just your Mel and not that tough woman you know. She might appear as a lion but in reality under all these layers of makeup, clothes and hair she is just an orange silly little cat. Who is touchy and clingy to attention and hugs. 

“Hun are ya with me??” Her raspy voice was ticketing your ears pleasantly.  

“Huh? Yes yes.” You tried to sound convincing. Miserably failing with nervousness in your voice. You were caught red handed. She knew that you saw.. more like stared at her body. 

You never could fool her. She saw right through you. The sly smirk on her lips was the evidence that you were completely awful at lying. At least to her. 

“I asked if ya are okay?? You’ve been silent for this whole time.” She said either teasing or worrying, probably both. Slightly nudging your shoulder.

“Ohhh , right I was just thinking about my home stuff you know? Domestic life.” You cringed at your bad choice of words. Stupid lie that you made up on the spot. Without even thinking about it though. You rolled your eyes at the last sentence, which was nonsense. 

When she finally got your attention for the hundredth time. You two began watching the movie which was the main plan for the sleepover. Since you were much younger you would show her some new movies or TV shows that you loved. The biggest secret that you didn't know was that all the shows that you showed to her. Became her comfort movies and series. Calming her down after a stressful day at Abbott. Even though you weren't there with her but when she opened the streaming service to dive into the made up universe and characters it felt like you were right there with her, the whole time. It appeared as if the sun was shining on her during a rainy day. You were her sun.

The movie that she picked today was no help. It was a romantic line between characters who were friends but denied feelings for each other. Kind of reminded you of your situation with Melissa. But even if you would be brave enough to admit it to yourself. You couldn't even imagine what she was thinking about you. Were you her friend? Best friend? A distraction or a good company?

Melissa patted her lap as a sign for you to get comfortable between her plushingly seducing thighs to lay of course nothing more .“What a loss” You considered, but once again you were getting closer and closer with every passing hour. When you back touched her front it was challenging for Melissa to hold down a whimper that was willing to escape her mouth. The warmth of her body was too much, sending all kinds of sensations down to your core. Suddenly you are a hot, nervous mess but in the second she looks at you and pecks your temple you are a putty puddle in her hands. You don't care at this point. You wanted her to decide what will come next. You were just too insecure to make a move on a smoking hot redhead. Sure, she was intimidating but also she had her boundaries that you were too scared to overstep. Because you knew that one little childish mistake will lead you to lose the only person you care about in this town. 

The movie was progressing and a lot of things were happening but you were not focused at all. You tried to steal some glances at relaxed cute and real Melissa Schemmenti. It was such a rare sight for your eyes, but again boundaries. You were unaware how much she thought it was adorable. Oh, how you tried to respect her but also like a cutely clumsy school girl looking at her crush. You were admiring her beauty. Memorizing every small detail of her beautiful features. 

For some reason you skipped the moment in the annotation to the film which was describing the possible sex scenes. And that is certainly something that you would not like to watch together. Firstly it is hella awkward. Secondly you would be left with an uncomfortably wet spot in your panties specilly with Melissa by your side. But here you were with the main characters finally confessing their feelings and passionately kissing. “What dumbasses” you thought. To have all these feelings and not share them with the person you find attractive. (That was currently your situation that you were so stubbornly ignoring).

One blink of your eye and the older woman is pressing you down on her coach. Mumbling something under her breath. Her hands were passionately roaming your already overstimulated body. Her long sharp freshly manicured nails draw shapes over the fabric above your hips. These actions elicit a moan from your rosey lips. She fakely paunted at your moan playing innocence herself. Her sly smile and shiny with lust eyes were telling you another story. There was fire behind the emerald forest of greens in her eyes. She was more than ready to overstep, even ruin those stupid boundaries. Redhead was so tired of looking at the lips she could not kiss. It was a pure torture to the unpatient woman. But you were more worked up than she was. Which led you to yank her fiery locks of hair to make her meet your lips finally. You were so tired of this game for being a year long. Your lips were desperate to taste hers. Sloppy movements of tender flesh against each other. Smearing her cherry red lipstick all over your faces. Slightly biting on her sensitive bottom lip pulling it. The curiosity and excitement is rising in your body, making you buzz. 

But Melissa wasn't planning on holding back. She liked the way you tried to take the lead, but she will teach you manners later by edging you. While she was in thoughts the animalistic instincts took over you and the fact that she was sitting on top of you was just adding fuel to the flame. Her breasts are free from her usually tight bra, all free for you to see. Your hands were faster than you thoughts, you ripped the poor flap of her night t-shirt. And her breasts fall right to your face. Too blissed out to care, your palms squashed the desired flesh of her silky breasts. Nails teasing the very sensitive areolas making her chocolaty nipples stand in anticipation. Silently begging for any sort of attention.  

“Yesss… ah– like dis.” she whimpered out. Her eyes are rolling in pleasure.

Her accent is getting thicker with a mix of arousal and desire. Her raspy voice is like a natural aphrodisiac for you, making you more eager to please. Pushing stubborn redhead on shoulder blades, taking her by surprise, making Mel open her mouth and sneaking your tongue into her warm welcoming lips. She tasted so sweet her perfume was intoxicating your senses, making you addicted to a mix of musky and flowery scent. Her whines were getting louder with passing kisses. Suking on her tongue, your strong hands traveling over her tiny waist. Willing to see all of her you asked permission to tore down the seducingly tight pajama shorts she gave you an assuring nod. 

“No, no, I need your words.” Shaking your head in disapproval. Eyes shining with want.

You whispered in her ear, slightly biting the earlobe. Sending shivers all over her neck and making small hairs on her nape to stand up. You absolutely enjoyed the effect your actions and words were having on her body and state in general. Where is the lion everyone was so afraid of? Right now she appears incredibly lustful. Completely lost in the fog of want, desire, sexual longing. 

“Yes, yes please huunnn” She cried out. Bucking her exquisite hips to ease the job for you.

Ripping down the last garment of clothes seemed like a gift. She was your present to unpack and find the most sensitive buttons to tease and push. Carefully rather agonizingly slowly taking off the light pink, cotton shorts slowly revealing the glistening pussy. It was a view to see. Sexually frustrated Schimmenti trying so hard to suppress her frantic cries. But the ruined garment was the shameful evidence of her desire. You were admiring her long legs and lustrous hips. Now on full display only for your eyes to see. Her thighs seemed immensely empty, lacking any potential markings. Getting under your desire you felt like a predator eating its prey. You carefully started to explore the exposed flesh to your eyes, so hungry for more. Leaving slight love marks here and there initially provoking a sweet melody from the object of your admiration. Finally squeeze her deliciously seducing butt. Electrifying a nasty groan. 

Mel had a naughty idea to catch you off guard. Abruptly grabbing your hands makes your gaze meet. Her pupils were delayed, absolutely fogged out. You looked at her questingly, but she had her own plan, the lion was back and now you were the cat. Pressing tightly her body against your sweat mixing. She boldly licked your earlobe, slightly pulling on it. 

“Look who`s gon` all shy right now, let me be the boss.” She made accent on the last word clearly showing you your place. 

Just the slight dominance from her was sending you to another orbit of fantasy and possible pleasure. Her boobs were again in your face but instead of focusing on pleasuring the Italian beauty you felt how she was tearing your clothes off. Slowly, teasingly to make you taste the same treatment you made for her. She could smell your fluids in the air as she got closer. Sultry sweet, sweat, skin, wine. All in one, that's how she likes you and to add the cherry on top, you were completely at her mercy. Looking at your chest rising up and down, your heart is jumping straight out of your rib cage. To ease the beating she left the hickey right above your heart, leaving a purple and pink mark from the smeared lipstick. Your breasts were tantalizing her. Aroused nipples screaming for any sort of relief from the teasing partner. She took the hint and licked the stripe over the right nipple, her hand playing slowly with the left one. You are crying out at the wet sensation. Melissa`s hands continue shamelessly to crumpling your sensitive tits. Licking, sucking, blowing at the wet aroused skin. Making you surrender completely.

The redhead smiles at your relaxed face but now it is time to give you two a sweet well deserved release. She's been fantasizing about it, how you will come, how she will pleasure you, what faces you would make and how you would sound. Would she use her mouth on you or her sharp fingernails? Or maybe you would enjoy a bit of pain and pleasure together?  Would you scream, cry, fight? She often was getting off on these fantasies. Now she was getting desperate and her inner monologue was turning her on even more. (If it was even physically possible).

But the idea of cumming together and feeling each other's bodies was the one for tonight. So full of delight Melissa has stopped her assault on your reddened breasts. She had a look of concern and excitement written on her face.

“Baby are ya willin` to try somethin`out with me? Do you trust me enough?”

She asked in a gentle voice. Mel broke her dominant attire for this minute, she needed you to understand her intentions were nothing but good. 

“Yes fully. I am all yours.” You whined out in a weakened voice.

Your mind was clouded with all sorts of feelings. Love, arousal, overstimulation? Everything at once. But the concern in her voice and love in her gaze was warming your heart. Even if she wanted to destroy you, you would say “yes” in a heartbeat. 

She carefully parted your legs with warm hands of hers sending shivers to your sentave thighs. The sight of your glossy cunt was making her mouth salivating, just one thought about the exquisite taste was making her hips buck unconsciously. The action made you slip a tiny moan. Melissa put her legs over your hips making your cunts millimeters apart. Heavy breathings, chest rising in anticipation of the pleasure you two gonna share together. You broke the teasing it was too much at this point it felt like hours of torture. (You liked little bit of torture, but now its not about it, now is about connection). 

You palmed her hips, focusing the main attention on her kooley. Slightly pressing your pussies together, clits throbbing against each other. You both moaned at the pleasant contact. The wetness pressed to wetness. You could sense the surprised look from Melissa, she never thought she'd be this wet, and certainly that she could make you this wet. As Schemmenti is, she took the lead. Plush hips riding yours, sending electricity through both of you. Soaked clits touching, making you whine both shuddering at the aching feeling.

“Agh– like this please Mel.” You begged. 

If only you knew the effect begging had on Melissa. She liked every single sounds you made together whether it's a moan or watery sounds from your cunts. You cupped her rosy cheeks, making Italiano look you right in the eyes. The light banging of hips and the wet sounds filled the room. It felt like it was only you two in that room. Just you, just your feelings, pleasure. The heated kisses shared in the tender moment. Tugging at fiery red hair just added to the general bliss. Her soft skin, full puffy lips from all shared kisses between the steamy sessions, dark green eyes completely blown by lust. Melissa swirled her hips again making your clits in contact bringing the sweet pleasure from wonderful frequstion. It almost made you see stars. You were close and so was she. Breasts closely pressed together, nipples brushing, cunts closer than ever.   

“Mel baby I`m closeee.” You cried out, with tears in your eyes.

“Don't come yet, hun I want us to do it together.” Melissa breathed out with drops of sweat running down her face. 

You eagerly nodded, you didn't want to disappoint your lover. Bodies knit together, sweat, skin, smell of sex, and perfume overflowing the room. Melissa`s movements became increasingly stiff and steady making it her mission to make you cum. Putting all her body weight on your pelvis, humping her hips on your clit providing each step closer to the finish. She had her concentrated face which looked hot as hell. At this point anything could make you blow up with pleasure, but as a good girl you waited for your lover. Fiery Italian was getting closer and closer. Her first instinct was to press your head tightly to her deliciously full breasts.

“Yeah I'm almost there, suck on my nipple, hun please! I'm almost there!” She cried out while moving her thighs faster.

Melisa`s fist was in your soft locks pushing you impossibly close to her sensitive breasts. Sucking, nibbling, licking it later to smooth the reddened flesh. To provide the redhead release faster you bucked in the unison. Clits caressing against each other, hips riding the last straw to send you both into pure bliss. On the pick of your best orgasm you said:

“I LOVEE YOUU MEL aghhh!!” 

“LOVE YOUU HUN ughh!!” 

No awkwardness, just all the feelings that were bubbled inside were finally sent free by the sex, no it was lovemaking. Two souls tied together by love. Finally the ability to share and be honest with yourself ended up in a warm embrace with Melissa. She looked incredibly charming, her face a little red, sweat on her forehead but the smile and eye she was giving you. That was worth all the self doubt, battle and toxic thoughts of fixing yourself. You knew for sure you would never find another person who would fit your soul like Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmeni can. 

__________________________________________

And what about Garry? You got the message from him during the night you were too busy to respond. Simply he wanted to know where you were “Where the fuck are you?” But why would it matter if you are laying in the arms of the most beautiful woman you ever saw. You were done with him. He was fucking around and still expected of you to be faithful? Delusional. 

Thanks to Melissa and a lot of self analysis you get to the conclusion that men are probably not for you. No, they were surely not for you. You were lying to yourself for so long and now you were free. You just needed to find the right person and Melissa certainly was the one for you and you were the one for her. She just happened to be a woman and there is nothing wrong with it. There are more benefits than disadvantages.

Happy end! 

The moral of the story is gays, love women and only women. Girls don’t want men, they want Melissa Schemmenti.

tags: @janeyseymour @springwitch26 @pinkthrone445 @melagnes @iamnotoriginalphil @spoilmesweetieforficssake @realwitchieshit @fadingdaggerr @schemmentisbranzino @milfandh0ney @aspirationalpeony @agnessharknes @mandy-asimp @milfjuulpod @cosmichahn @schemmentigfs @daddy-heather-dunbar @spooky-holtz @the-bad-batch @beshbarmak1

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Craig Tucker x Reader - sugar (c)rush - part 2

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Part 1

Summary: Craig Tucker's unwanted visit to the maid cafe leaves him in a sour mood, but the place might bring something that makes his life the sweetest it's ever been.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Fem!Reader, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Mating Press, Dom/Sub Dynamics (Craig gets called 'Master'), Possibly OOC Craig Tucker, Arguing

A/N: aaaand here it is! the part damn near everyone who read this came for. i wish it hadn't gotten as long as it did, but it is what it is. if Craig sounds OOC I promise he's just whipped. reader will do that to ya

It took months for a day to happen that would change this groove you’d fallen into. Craig noticed the difference as soon as he arrived - he barely managed to hear the ringing of the door chime when he entered the shop, since it was drowned by the loud chattering and commotion inside. Apparently, on that specific afternoon, your workplace was having some type of different event with discounted menu items and limited-time meals he hadn’t cared much for, but now especially did, since it messed with his plans. Every single seat he saw was occupied, maids zipping through the commotion to serve multiple tables at once, a completely different atmosphere from how laid-back and hospitable he had learned to find the place to be when not as full. It made him uncomfortable, like he’d lost something familiar, but he pushed through it, holding onto what was left of the routine.

“My apologies, Craig, but (Y/N) is a little bit busy today,” one of your work colleagues told him as he settled into his usual spot, kept secure for him by a small sign on the table that said it was ‘reserved’. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure your experience is as amazing as possible!”

“It’s alright.” He didn’t even look at her as he said it, pushing away the menu she was trying to hand him. “Just give me a black coffee then.”

She didn’t bother to write his order down on the tablet before leaving for the kitchen, and Craig sighed as he found himself alone again, mentally preparing for one of those days of boredom and annoyance that used to be commonplace when you weren’t his appointed maid. The table in the corner gave him a good view of the surroundings, and he spotted you with just one scan of his eyes, making small talk on a booth near the counter. Just as quickly, you found him - he caught your face turning as if it was magnetically drawn to that side, big eyes shining with gleeful surprise before you raised your hand and waved at him. He could’ve sworn your already present smile became a tiny bit bigger when you saw him, too; but he pushed the idea away as delusion, giving you a curt nod of acknowledgement and following you with his vision as you got back into movement.

He counted about four tables that you’d stopped by to take or deliver orders and chat with customers. Four different instances of his throat emitting a low rumble, like a growl, a direct voicing to the thoughts he had, watching as you directed your gentle affection to people he’d never seen before in all the days he came over. When he was around, it was a given that he’d have 100% of your attention, considering he’d pay for the company. That day, however, he had arrived too late for that - having to resign himself to watch and maybe internally pray that the movement would slow down so you’d exchange a few words with him, even if that was unlikely.

His coffee arrived and he ignored all the excited things your maid colleague had to say about it, waving her off with not many words, both him and her appearing extremely glad about the short duration of the interaction. Putting two sugar packets in the hot liquid and taking a sip, he frowned: still too bitter. The taste of the very first coffee he drank in the shop was still vivid in his mind, remembering it as overly sweet even without added sweetener; with the passage of time, however, it seemed to slowly become less and less so, shifting into the completely opposite end of the taste spectrum into ‘not ever nearly sweet enough’. As he opened a third packet, he made a mental note to get a word in with the kitchen staff later to see what had changed with the brand they were using or the preparation.

There was a conscious attempt on his part to not focus on you as much as he drank his coffee, trying to pay attention to other things until he’d eventually get too annoyed by the noise and leave - which was setting itself to happen earlier than usual, since the chatter was louder than ever due to the sheer amount of people inside. He was, however, keeping an ear out for any snippets of your voice, almost straining that particular body sense in the process.

When he did hear it again, it was in the middle of another sip of coffee, and he stopped with his lips still on the mug. It was barely audible, but he picked up on it with precision, his sight immediately flickering to where the sound came from, finding you a few meters away. You had your back to him, tending to a table with two guys in it, both with their heads turned to you.

“Like I said, I’m so very sorry, but I can’t sit with the masters this afternoon,” you said, and through the apologetic intonation, Craig caught a hint of discomfort that made him put down his mug and lean with his upper body in that direction, doing what he could to hear better. “The fee is not available today, we have so many wonderful customers and…”

“No no no, sweetie, you don’t understand,” one of the men spoke, “We don’t wanna pay no fee. We just want you to hang out a little.”

 The other dude nodded with a shit-eating grin, and the stoical male felt something run down his back - like he had just got an epidural injection of pure venom to the top of the spinal cord. He wasn’t at ease, and by the way he saw you shift your weight between your feet, swaying in place slightly, neither were you.

“I… I would love to, but that’s unfortunately not possible. However, if the masters would like to place an order now, I…”

“We’ll order if you sit here with us,” the second fellow interrupted your soft voice with his raspy barking, and Craig found himself wanting to be president so that he could make that particular action a crime. “Come ooon, darling…”

“I can’t, I really can’t…”

You were beginning to whine now. Craig glanced around quickly. Was no one paying attention to that interaction? All of the other maid workers were busy with their own clients, and your boss was nowhere to be found. The gnashing of his teeth inside his closed mouth felt way too loud when he was trying to pay attention to you, but he couldn’t help it, the building angry energy in his body needing somewhere to go to.

He looked back towards you just in time to see your head turn in another direction, hearing one of your other better tables calling to you for something. The swaying stopped, and Craig could almost feel the same relief you did to be free of that annoying situation.

“My apologies, dear masters, but another table is calling to me,” you said with more confidence this time, the whiny tone fading as you found your peace again. “I’ll give you a little more time to go through the menu and decide on your order and then I’ll be right back!”

“Hey, wait up! We’re not done talking to you!” The first man, the one closest to you, reached out from his seat just as you took a step backwards to make your exit, wrapping his hand around your arm and making you yelp. 

One might’ve thought Craig had developed teleportation abilities. Because before he himself had even noticed it, he was next to you and his own hand was on the guy’s wrist, holding it with twice the grip strength that other man’s hand had on your arm. His face did not denounce the pure anger that sparked under his skin like tons of needles urging him to violent action, and neither did his voice. But even through the deadpan expression, his eyes were still intense.

Both you and your disruptive client gasped in surprise, but Craig didn’t acknowledge either reaction. “Back off. She already said no.”

“Hey dude, what the fuck? Let go!” The other dude began trying to wriggle his wrist out of the oppressive grasp, releasing your own arm in the process - you stepped back again right after, eyes locked on the situation unfolding in front of you while frozen in fear. His own movements, however, came to no avail, as Craig stood almost perfectly still even when the harshest yanking threatened to swerve his body.

“Then apologize and let the maid leave.”

The second client came to his friend’s rescue and tried pulling at Craig’s free arm, and still he didn’t move, spreading his feet a bit on the wooden floor to have more stability. “Apologize for what? We aren’t doing anything wrong,” that man barked again.

“You’re harassing the employee,” Craig enunciated his words more firmly than usual, like the mere mention of the action offended him greatly. 

“They’re paid to hang out with us, dude,” the first guy scoffed, “Fuck you mean, ‘harassing’?”

“They’re paid to serve your orders. You’re not ordering.”

“We’re fucking clients here!” The second guy’s tone turned ironic, like he was trying to explain something to Craig as if he was five years old, and it made him want to bash those teeth so far into his throat he’d never be able to speak like that again. “They’re supposed to do what we ask! The customer is always right!”

“You need to pay for something to be considered a client. Right now, you’re just wasting a table.” And the attention of a great woman, he added mentally.

“It’s a maid café, dude,” Wow, what a precise observation, Craig thought over the voice of the dude. “These chicks are supposed to do what we say, it’s the whole point!”

“Well, that chick-” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder towards you, feeling slight guilt over the tiny squeal you emitted as the spotlight was back on you, “-is not going to do what you say. So talk to her properly.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Another scoff. “She’s not gonna fuck you, dude. Leave it.” 

Craig consciously refused to recognize the way his stomach dropped with those statements. Sure, they were true. Your interest in him didn’t go far beyond the confines of his wallet, and it pained him to know it. But he’d be damned if that would be the reason he’d let another person speak to and about you like that.

He decided not to answer the guy’s comment directly, unwilling to draw this line of thought to the unwanted attention you were already receiving. “Apologize to her and leave her alone. The maids are busy.”

“Or what? What’s it to you?” Still being held in Craig’s grasp, the first guy stood up, his full height and build almost rivaling Craig’s own, but making up for the one or two inches of difference with his audacity. A chair scraped out of their view, the second dude standing up as well, clearly more out of moral obligation to defend his friend rather than actual courage. “You gonna do something about it?”

At this point, the whole shop had gone quiet, watching the commotion unfold. The all-female staff were all frozen in place, unable to step up and diffuse the situation physically but also incapable of looking away from it, and Craig couldn’t blame them at all. He also would’ve chosen not to engage in any other circumstance; it was admittedly none of his business. But even so, he still stood there proud, emboldened by a sort of bravery he had never felt before in his life. Maybe you weren’t his to protect, but he was still going to do it, using whatever he had - be it physical strength, intelligence or just the power of not giving a fuck - to make sure you were respected. 

“If you’re not ordering, then you gotta leave,” Craig declared, “Free the seats for someone else.”

“That’s not in the rules, dipshit.” So they did know the rules after all. “I’m not gonna fucking apologize to no one about asking for the service this place’s supposed to provide. So go back to your damn seat and shut the fuck up.”

The response to that didn’t come verbally. With a huff, Craig yanked at the arm of the guy he was arguing with, making him almost topple over the table if his free hand hadn’t held him on it. His friend scrambled to help, pushing at Craig’s other shoulder, but all that managed to accomplish was making his jacket drop a little off his arm. Maybe those sumo lessons he got in elementary school weren’t totally useless - he knew how to keep himself firmly in place, hardly budging under the other guys’ attempts at making him stagger.

A swing came from his side, missing his face by a bit as Craig took a step back, pulling his opponent with him. The chair the first guy was seated on fell when its occupant tripped on it, but it was barely heard over the angry shouts, the noise of his loud sneakers and the gasps of all the other customers when your protector took the nuisance away by the arm in long strides. For a guy that didn’t maintain a frequent workout routine, Craig was abnormally strong - the effects of his fight response were not to be underestimated.

“You had your fucking chance,” Craig growled as he walked, an acknowledgement of the offenses the other guy was spilling while being dragged away. “I’m not one of the maids, but I can clean up the place too.”

Reaching the door didn’t take long, considering the length of his legs and the fact that Craig cared very little if his opponent was walking properly or not. With another harsh yank of his arm, he shoved the man forward, finally letting go of him and bracing himself with his free hand on the wall by the door when the other dude, having followed behind, pathetically tried to push him as well. All bark and no bite, both of them.

Like a sack of trash being thrown into the garbage truck, the primary disruptive client fell through the doorway into the sidewalk in front of it, landing on his side with a harsh noise of his clothes rubbing on the stone. He might’ve scraped his arm, too, but the pride would certainly hurt more with being so casually discarded like he was. The second fellow, in his urge to help his buddy, lost his footing on the elevated step by the entrance, missing his balance completely and falling on his stomach not far from the first one, his outstretched hands doing little to brace him.

“You’re fucking fucked, dude!” Both guys stood up clumsily as one of them yelled, reaching out to each other for stability and almost falling on their asses again in the process. “We’re gonna call the cops on this place and then you’re done for!”

“Go on, you do that,” Craig retorted from the doorway, flexing his dominant hand, balling it into a fist then stretching his fingers out - though he had managed to come out on top in the strength display, there was still pain from the grip he had to keep. “Then they’re gonna have a bunch of witnesses to listen to about how you were disturbing the workers and breaking the rules of a private business.”

That mention seemed to have given the two men pause, their eyes flickering towards what little of the shop’s interior they could see from their position, just now realizing the amount of people inside who saw the whole ordeal. With huffs and muttered complaints, they left, trudging away from the shop without further action.

Barely any time was given for you and Craig to really process how tense the situation had been before you both felt the hands of your store’s owner holding heavily onto your shoulders and dragging you away from the main shop area into the cramped staff room at the back. Stepping into the much less cutely decorated space and taking in what little furniture it had - a few tall lockers for stashing personal belongings in, a sink and microwave on a countertop, and a table against the opposite wall with a couple chairs around it -, all he thought was that he was screwed. Just because the other bothersome client hadn’t called the police for his aggression, it didn’t mean you or your boss wouldn’t. In the best of cases, he’d be banned from the café after the scolding of a lifetime. And, honestly, it would all have been worth it if he could keep you safe from at least one creep.

However, none of that came to pass. The owner was, of course, distressed, the heavy makeup on her face doing little to hide the twenty or thirty years she had aged in just the span of that exchange. But then she apologized, both to you and to him - to you for not being able to keep you safe and not paying close enough attention to the situation amidst the crowd, and to him for putting him in harm’s way as well, adding that, considering his violent conduct happened in defense of the safety of one of her workers, she wouldn’t contact the police. She did clarify that this went against the norms of the café and he wasn’t to take advantage of it by picking fights with peaceful patrons, but even in that unneeded slap on the wrist, he noticed the mix of pride and appreciation for how he had stepped up to protect you. To top it off, she decided to waive his bill for the day as well, as an apology for his troubles and a personal thank you gift.

“And so, uh… Yeah, I guess that’s all,” the owner eventually concluded, rubbing her own temples to try and relax. “Craig, if you want, you can return to the shop. (Y/N), you can stay here for a while, calm down and-”

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Craig a bit.”

This was the first set of words that left your mouth ever since he got involved in the ordeal with the client, and it made his hazel eyes widen. What did you even have to discuss? Surely just some more gratitude. But it was the thought that you might want to interact with him alone, outside of the paid arrangement from your job, that had his brain flooding with curiosity.

Your boss’ expression shifted as she frowned slightly. “Are you sure, (Y/N)?” She asked, and Craig caught on to the hint of concern in her voice, attributing it to justified worry about your personal safety.

Through the corner of his eye, keeping his face turned to the front, he saw you nod emphatically. “Yeah… I’m sure.” You turned to him, and there was now true effort on his part not to glance in your direction. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

The space of the staff room seemed to have gotten even smaller, claustrophobic to Craig’s heightened senses. Like any of his actions could be seen, heard, judged. “Yeah, that’s cool.” Thank God his voice didn’t fail him in that moment, keeping seriousness despite the nerves that were sneaking into him.

The owner’s gaze flickered between the two of you for another moment, lips pursing as if holding back something she wanted to say; but then she nodded as well, turning on her heels and leaving through the small door Craig had been forcing himself to stare at this whole time, closing it behind her back.

And then it was just you.

“I really don’t understand how you make any money here,” the man commented a few seconds after she left, “You keep giving people free stuff all the time.”

Still paying attention to you without looking like it, Craig expected you to laugh, as you tended to do whenever he had a snarky remark to make about something. A part of him was hoping for it, even, to hear your small giggling and the playful scolding that usually followed. But you didn’t. He turned to you just in time to catch as you took the few steps towards him with a decided expression, wrapping your arms tight around him and planting your face in his chest.

His whole body instantly became taut against yours. What the fuck? This was a complete burst of his personal space bubble, way more physical contact than the two of you ever had, which was usually limited to small touches to his arm or hand during your conversations at his table. It was against the rules of your workplace, for sure, and he had an urge to scan the corners of the room and check for cameras - both for surveillance, terrified of the notion that someone might see it and get the wrong idea, and to confirm that he wasn’t in a comedy reality show and it was not a joke -, but the shock held him from doing even that. You had hugged him first. You were holding him close, he felt the front of your body pressing against his, he was not paying for this endeavor.

A couple seconds passed like this, Craig staying put as if expecting you to notice what you had done and pull away terrified. You didn’t. And this gave him the tiniest sliver of courage to slowly embrace you back. His hold wasn’t as tight as yours, still held back by lingering unease over too much unexpected physical touch, but it was there, an attempt at giving you the comfort you so clearly needed yet he didn’t know how to provide.

Him finally reciprocating your hug triggered your speech, making his breath hitch as you finally spoke. “Thank you so much.” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but the emotion in it was very much audible, that gratitude he already expected mixed with the remaining tension from earlier, relief and something else he didn’t quite get. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“It’s alright,” he responded, turning his face to the ceiling; if he’d look down and see you there so close to him, he might not be able to keep his cool. Although he knew he had none to keep - your nose was probably vibrating from the thumping of his heart on his chest.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” you continued, almost like you didn’t hear what he’d said. “You saved me, Craig.”

That simple sentence got to his head in a way he didn’t even know was possible. He never even knew his ego could inflate like that. Is this what Clyde wakes up like every day? “I did what anyone else should do, it’s no big deal.”

You shook your head, making small ruffling noises against his clothes. “Of course it’s a big deal… You didn’t have to do all that. But you did.”

“Like I said, it’s alright. You don’t have to thank me.”

First time ever that he cursed his dry delivery of words - he wanted to sound more reassuring, approachable as you were, but instead it just came off assholish like everything else he said. You didn’t complain, though, which he considered a win. Instead, your arms tightened even more around him, squeezing him briefly. “You could’ve gotten hurt, and then what would I do?”

This made the stoical male frown to himself, his brain getting momentarily confused at what you could possibly mean by that. “Maybe you’d have to call an ambulance,” he began explaining, taking the sentence literally. “They’d take me away, the cops would deal with the other guys, you’d have to testify and-”

“What?” 

Your interruption sounded as confused as Craig’s own thoughts were, and not muffled anymore. He tilted his face down toward you, frown disappearing from it when he saw that your own face was lifted up. “I’m explaining what you would’ve done if I got hurt.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m not talking about that…” 

You let go of him, taking a small step back, and he was pissed at himself for missing your hold as much as he did immediately after that. Watching as you focused on the ground, placing your hands tamely in front of your body, it then dawned on him that maybe he was the one misunderstanding the situation. Another one of those logic versus emotion things he had a hard time grasping.

“I was worried about you,” you said, “I care about you. I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Hearing this, Craig crossed his arms. Had he left them at his sides, he would’ve risked them moving on their own to pull you into another hug - those sentences mirrored perfectly how he felt towards you, a slice of the feelings that had driven him to involve himself in that altercation earlier. But it was also a way of keeping himself guarded, impassive and looking the part. You ‘cared’ about anyone who came to the café. You ‘cared’ for him as long as he continued buying. The moment his foot touched the first stone of the pavement, you didn’t anymore.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He internally wished you actually would. “I’m just a client. There’s more than a dozen of those out by the shop.”

Just as quickly as your face had lowered, it was lifted again - and this time you appeared aghast, almost as much as you had when he stepped up to defend you earlier. 

“Don’t talk like that!” His usual expressionless face shifted into surprise at the scolding tone you were trying to use - you couldn’t be harsh for the life of you, so what came out was more like a pained plea, but your smaller frame was all tense. “You’re not just a client to me!”

Craig took a deep breath, trying to tackle his drumming heart that insisted on taking your words and running with them. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, or that he didn’t at least want to; he literally wasn’t supposed to. “That’s exactly what I am.” He affirmed, more to himself than to you. Nothing more.

He heard your breathing too, softer than his, more of a sigh. Oh how he had let his mind wander during the table meetups, one side of his brain listening to what you had to say while the other imagined in what other situations you’d make noises like those. Sexual or not. Though none of those imaginations involved it coming with a hint of sadness while he squished his own feelings by standing firm behind the client-server wall he needed to maintain.

“You’re… more than that to me.” Your voice had dropped in volume, body still tense. “I like you, Craig. Like, really like you.”

What fucking wall now?

It was his turn to go tense, shoulders squaring up as the words hit him like a wrecking ball. Shit, maybe he did really get in a fight and the other guy bashed his damn head in. Only like that you’d be telling him such a thing. There was no other way to interpret your statement, no way for him to rationalize it into a different context, consciously or not. You said what you said.

“You do?” His eyebrows arched the slightest bit, arms slowly uncrossing and dropping back to his sides. “How?”

Your head tilted a bit, hands moving to clutch your own chest. The shift in body language showed him that you were legitimately anxious about the declaration, and about his reaction to it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this doesn’t make sense,” Craig continued, “I’m your regular. You can’t like me; You don’t know me like that. It’s not allowed.”

“Why?” Your voice got thinner again, as it usually did when you got nervous. ”Of course it is! I know you, I hang out with you all the time!”

“Because you’re paid to do that,” he insisted, becoming increasingly frayed over your prolonged assertions. “I pay the fee and you hang out with me. Those are the rules.”

“You haven’t had to pay for that in weeks!” There was a slight giggle accompanying your words now, those beautiful big eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement.

He’d have cussed you out for making fun of him, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in what you were actually saying. The behavior he had adopted regarding his spending at the café - that of not paying attention to it at all and just trusting blindly that everything was inside of his budget - was maybe the most jarring difference to his normal habits, no matter how much he tried to paint over it with claims of ‘supporting local businesses’. But only now did he realize that maybe his credit card statements had been a bit too easy on him.

“No way.” He brought his hands to your shoulders and squeezed a bit, not enough to hurt, just wanting to ground himself on something as he processed the information - or rather, the proof. “So you’ve just been hanging out with me for free?”

You shook your head. “It’s actually coming out of my paycheck.” The small giggle faded as you acknowledged that he was taking you seriously, but a timid smile lingered.

Anyone more honorable would’ve scolded you for basically paying to work, maybe even tried to give you back the money owed. But the truth was Craig didn’t give a fuck. He was too hung up on the fact that you did, in fact, hang out with him willingly, to the point where it was becoming detrimental to your own wallet. The fondness in your words and actions hadn’t been imaginary.

Not quite ready to look at you directly as he processed the information, he tried lowering his gaze a bit, but almost fully flinched when it stopped on your chest - and out of nowhere the wooden floorboards became interesting enough to stare at intently. His fingers twitched on your shoulders, itching to touch any part of your actual skin.

“Damn,” he muttered, “Since when?”

“I… I don’t know.” Hearing movement, Craig raised his eyes, seeing you bashfully playing with one of the strands of hair closest to your face, thinking he wasn’t looking. Another habit he’d grown to love. “I guess since the first day you came back. That time you told me I should be myself was awful, but...”

“You are yourself,” he interfered, straightening up and staring at you head-on. “You’ve always been yourself. And I like that. I like you.”

Those words should’ve been harder to say, and maybe they would’ve, if your confession hadn’t come first. But Craig found them as easy as saying ‘good morning’ - partly because he had no qualms about speaking his mind, ever, but also because he had waited with them on the tip of his tongue for almost as much time as you had. And time he now had to make up for; slowly, he leaned closer, giving you several moments to pull away before his lips met yours.

Holy hell. Despite being the one who initiated, it took him a moment to process that he was actually kissing you. Your lips were like the softest velvet possible against his and tasted like candy - he didn’t even know lip products could taste like anything, but now yours might’ve even become a new standard in kissing for him, one he wasn’t sure could be reached anywhere else. Seeking further closeness, he brought one of his hands to the back of your head, tilting it so your mouth could fit as perfectly as possible against his, not that it needed any help. The other hand drifted from your shoulder down your arm, catching your own and intertwining your fingers.

It was supposed to be a gentle kiss, just to test it all out, give him something to expect when he inevitably asked you out on a date later and exchanged numbers. But when your free hand grabbed hesitantly at the front of his jacket, as if you didn’t quite know where to put it, he found it impossible to part; you were too adorable for your own good, and he could sense your interest under the layer of shyness. So he got you even closer, tugging at your other hand with his and using it as leverage to draw you flush against him once more, deepening the kiss with a quiet moan.

Time seemed to slow down, incapable of catching up to Craig’s sped up heart rate. The silence in the room, the taste of your mouth, and having you in closer proximity than he’d ever had - those all contributed to him letting go of thought and not even noticing how uncomfortable it was getting with the rising warmth on his body as he lost himself more and more in the moment. But there was no denying it once you pulled back for air and he opened his eyes just in time to see the trail of saliva that was left connecting your mouths break. Then the heat in his lower abdomen hit him like a truck, and he was fully alert in the same second.

Look, at the end of the day, Craig was only a guy and operated accordingly. He was not above feeling arousal, and definitely not immune to the effects the maid outfit and your general cuteness had on his person. It was easy to pretend everything was fine in public, with multiple distractions, but alone with you and interacting directly, there was nothing to keep him from being engulfed in desire. Years of evolution had probably hard-wired his brain to being attracted to this type of submissive behavior and wanting to have it for himself. Darwin or some other badass scientist probably explained it better than he would.

The stoical male wasn’t going to tell you outright, not if he could avoid it. It was better to just let you get back to work, take care of himself in the bathroom and talk to you later as if nothing was amiss. But you stepped back before he was able to do anything, and the tent at the front of his jeans - which he’d just barely managed to ignore thus far due to it having been concealed by your skirt, the petticoat underneath providing an extra puffy layer that shielded you from having to feel any of it - was subjected to your full view straight away.

Silence fell in the small staff room, your gaze locking down onto the bulge of his crotch in a way that almost made Craig even more aroused. Maybe he had no right to stay near you after that, but simultaneously he felt rooted in place, incapacitated from leaving. The secret third option was turning his face away, but keeping sight of you on his peripheral vision as you took your time analyzing him.

“Oh… Oh wow.”

There was surprise in your voice, but he was relieved to notice it was the good kind. You hadn’t run away, you didn’t scream - despite the sudden development, you didn’t appear uneasy. Fascination kept you focused, and though his reaction was to just stand still and let you do so, he was inwardly preening himself at the fact that his arousal had drawn your attention like that, the awkward situation notwithstanding.

“Craig…” You called out softly, a flush forming on your cheeks and ears. “Can I… Touch it?”

This had to be a tease. No way you were this naive about what you did to him with stuff like that. And, in the off-chance you really were, then that would make it all just more satisfying when you did find out. “You can do more than touch,” he responded, not bothering anymore with the common sense that told him to at least fake being embarrassed. “But you really should head back now.”

“But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay here, with you… And…”

Agonizingly slowly for Craig, one of your hands reached out towards his crotch - just brushing against the denim of his pants at first, before you grew bolder and palmed it fully. Your touch was extra gentle, barely stimulating, but it still made him grunt and his dick twitch inside of his boxers.

His head snapped towards the break room’s door, almost as if expecting the whole staff to barge in at that very moment. “Your boss is gonna realize you are missing. She’s gonna come looking.”

“I… Don’t think so.” You covered your mouth with your other hand as you giggled, and Craig had to hold firmly onto the subject in his mind to not get fully distracted between that and your touch. “She knows I like you. I don’t think she’s gonna bother us…”

Craig’s eyebrows arched, and he turned his face to you again. As if made shy by his eye contact, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t care about that anymore. If he was allowed to have his way, which appeared to be the case, both of you would be feeling much better soon enough. “You told her you liked a client?

The smallest smirk curved the edge of his lips when he saw you becoming even redder in the face. “Well… Sorta…” Your response came lower in volume, like confessing to a terrible secret, even though it was nothing major and you had been so willing to say it just a few seconds prior. “The staff here’s pretty close, they saw us talking a lot and… Yeah.”

“Huh.” Now it made sense. The weird behavior of the boss when you said you wanted to speak with him. She had known what was up and just wanted to confirm that you were comfortable going for it. “Well, then.”

That was going to be a talk he’d have with you some other moment; how long had he spent being the only clueless one in the room about your interest in him, the subject of lunch hour talks and giggling whispers in the corners from the other maids who saw you two talking? But for now, he had more important matters. Claiming your lips with more intensity this time and grabbing your waist, giving you just enough time to wrap your arms around his body, Craig walked you backwards the couple steps towards the other wall - lifting you up onto the table as soon as your ass hit the edge of it, with the same ease and strength he would’ve used to fight on the coffee shop space earlier if needed. 

He settled nicely between your legs, and only took his mouth off of yours to bring his nose to the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist instantly tightened. There it was, the scent that always followed him home and accompanied him most hours of his day for weeks on end now. Like the sweetest strawberry; one he’d never eaten before, but still had gotten ingrained into his taste buds, making him always chase that same flavor like an addict. You were pure candy, better than anything they served at the café, and he had a mad sugar craving.

Avoiding the ruffle choker you wore as part of your uniform, his tongue found your skin, licking a messy stripe from your neck to your ear; lips closing around your earlobe, sucking on it with barely held back enthusiasm. The way you squirmed and trembled under his touch, letting out a shaky sigh and tilting your head to the side to give him more room, had him wanting to just pin you down and keep doing just that, prompting those adorable reactions over and over.

His cock, however, had other plans. Instinctively, Craig had started rutting lightly against the table, seeking any form of contact to sate the need he was in. It wasn’t nearly enough. Only by feeling you for real would he be at peace, and he wasn’t settling for ‘the next best thing’ anymore, like he was when he kept telling himself just being your customer was fine. His breathing was harsh as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, the scent of your perfume still enveloping his brain like a pastel pink fog of passion.

“You want this, right?” He grunted, holding onto a scrap of sanity to make sure you were into it. “I won’t be able to stop later.”

You nodded desperately,  gasping like the mere mention of the concept jolted your core. He didn’t even have to touch you - only by the way you responded, with utter need, he was able to tell that you wanted him just as bad. “Please, Craig… I-” 

“Call me ‘Master.’”

Just as the words left his mouth, he knew he had lost his marbles completely. In absolutely no world would he have made such a request had he been in his right mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to not make it. 

Your eyes widened. “But you told me-”

“What I told you does not matter right now.” The fierceness with which he stated that made you gasp in surprise, a reaction that he clearly picked up on, as the next part came out lower and softer. “Please.”

After holding his gaze for another moment, as if expecting him to pull back on the request, you spoke again. “Okay... Master.”

Your voice was meek and uncertain, barely dipping your toes in that water, possibly waiting for the moment where he’d remember just how much he ‘hated’ - did he now? - being called that, braced for the scolding. Yet there was nothing that had felt more right for him as this did in that moment. The simple term lifted him to the top of the world, making his brain go feral with thoughts of dominating you, taking with delight everything that you were so willing to give, then handing it right back to you just to prove how correct you were in surrendering your body and your mind to him. Restraint was definitely not a factor anymore, and though it was out of his element, it felt fucking fantastic.

Even though he was the one that just got called Master, he’d get on his knees and hand you the universe on a silver platter if you asked.

“That’s right.” The way his voice shifted into a more hoarse version of itself denounced how much it all had affected him. “Good girl.”

Ah, your fucking whimper that followed. Never had he heard a more perfect sound. It spoke volumes of your need to please, proving that it wasn’t just an act you’d put on upon request. That was all want.

Craig didn’t make another request as he let go of you to undo his belt and the buttons of his currently way too tight pants, leaving you waiting with bated breath. However, as soon as your hands moved towards your own back, attempting to reach the tied strings of your apron and the zipper of your dress, your dominant arm was under his grasp - not enough to hurt, but plenty to warn.

“Leave it on,” he commanded, the thumb on his free hand hooked on his own waistband. “It’s fucking hot.”

Immediately your hands were back on your lap as if they’d never left the spot, such speed pleasing Craig immensely, even if he only showed it through a hum and a smirk. You were truly created to serve, and he was created to order. And fuck, did it feel good to not have to pretend that uniform of yours wasn’t sexy as hell. It had been hard, respecting it as just workwear while continuously inspiring images of what it would look like in all his favorite positions. But now he was the one that got to bestow it new meaning, since you also didn’t seem particularly attached to its meaning as job apparel.

He pulled down his jeans and boxers just enough to free himself, sensing the monster of pride inside him - which was usually lazily resting, due to not caring much what others actually thought of him or his qualities - roaring with satisfaction as you moaned quietly upon seeing his member, noticeably satisfied with the view. Your thighs pressed together more, rubbing instinctively, and he knew you were just trying to ease your own ache; but you had so easily submitted to his desires, he saw it as unacceptable that you’d get release from anything that wasn’t him. One of his hands pushed your chest firmly but gently, lowering your back towards the table, while the other brought your thighs away from each other and lifted up the front of your skirt, letting layers of dress, apron and petticoat bunch at your hips.

There wasn’t any teasing as he pulled your panties down and took them off you, and also no need for that anyway; the fabric had turned basically see-through by the point he got to it, your folds slick with glistening anticipation. Seeing you spread and dripping made him think that covering his head with those layers of your skirt and dying of heat stroke while eating you out would not be a bad way to go. He was positive you’d taste like candy, just like everything else that surrounded you, and lapping up your honey would consolidate the huge sweet tooth he’d apparently developed the last couple of weeks: he wouldn't be able to put another savory thing in his mouth ever again. But he didn’t have all that time - you were still on work hours after all, and though he didn’t give a fuck what was happening to your clients out at the café, he didn’t want you to be scolded or listen to any stupid complaints.

It was with that in mind that he shoved your panties into his back pocket and grabbed your waist again, dragging your now laid-down body closer to his own hips. As your legs lifted, crossing loosely around his waist, he took care of lining himself up with your entrance, dragging his angry tip up and down your slit, accompanying your mewls of pleasure with his own groans whenever it would brush against your clit. You were so goddamn responsive to even his smallest actions, it was unbelievable.

When Craig risked a glance at your flushed face again, all he saw were expectant wide eyes trying to watch where you two were about to meet - and quite failing to do so due to the barrier of bunched up fabric. Although it made him quite smug to know you were so interested in watching his cock, it was a waste of your precious gaze if you couldn’t look at anything. 

“You don’t have to watch. You’re gonna feel it.” His voice made you look up at his face again, and just then he put his cock against your entrance, breaching into your tight heat with a thrust that made you gasp in surprise despite how slow it had been. His own eyes shut, focusing on the sensation for a moment, and fuck was it amazing. He’d never felt so utterly enveloped, your warmth embracing his member with just the right amount of tightness, and by the way you clenched even more around him when he bottomed out after a bit, no doubt you were feeling just as amazing.

“I told you.” Craig spoke again, rough with desire, daring to open one eye to peek at your adorable face. He hadn’t even moved, and you already had half-lidded eyes and parted lips. How would you look when he effectively put you through it? “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you feel everything you need to feel.”

“Y-yes, yes… I trust you, master…” You nodded once, resolute despite the nerves that seemed to prickle right at your skin - which Craig knocked right out of you as his cock started to move inside your cunt, his hips setting a steady pace right away. He didn’t have the patience to drag anything out, not if you were going to keep calling him that word.

“Good girl… Good girl,” he murmured like a prayer, an encouragement for you to keep talking, to fuel his ego even more. He had delved into an uncharted zone - although he was pretty decent at thinking only about himself, he’d never valued himself as highly as he did in that moment, never felt like such a realized man.

And as this man he felt like, he wanted more. Whatever he could get. Planting his palms under your thighs, he pushed them up until your knees hit your chest, folding you up unceremoniously. He heard you squealing, but didn’t budge - because your hands quickly found the back of your knees and held them in their spread, letting your legs rest on his shoulders, keeping the position without a single complaint. He wished he could photograph that perfect vision to forever have the image of you open and taking him with unabashed eagerness, but his own memory would have to suffice. 

“Fuck, you’re flexible,” he commented distractedly while he drove himself into you harder and faster, placing his hands at your sides on the table and leaning more over it to hit even deeper, chasing the limits of what the sudden mating press would allow him. 

“Only- Only the best for my ma- master,” you stammered over your words in response, gasping and whining as he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you which made you goddamn stupid. A beautiful kind of stupid, one which Craig hadn’t known existed until then.

“Mmph… That’s what I wanna see,” he rasped, leaning with his upper body towards you even more until his face was hovering over yours. His lips trembled with the urge to kiss you, but the interest in hearing your moaning took precedence. “And you’re gonna always be the best for me, right?”

Whatever answer you had to verbally give, it got swept away by the quick breaths that left your mouth. It was sufficient feedback for him, though.

The table began to slam against the wall with each thrust, and the stoical male thanked its sturdy material, otherwise you’d both soon be sent crashing down to the floor with how rough he was getting. But the noise it made with the constant hitting did not grace his ears; all that did were the wet sounds of your cunt as he pounded into it relentlessly and your sweet little moans that spilled freely. Both of you were hanging onto hope that the noise outside would cover your actions, but the setting was long forgotten, anything outside of that tiny room ceasing to exist.

Each of your whimpers brought him closer to the brink. You’d talked to him in nothing but softness the whole time he knew you, and yet now he knew just how lewd you could get. How lewd he could make you get. And that was when he regretted his rush to get to this moment, because now that he had it, he couldn’t ever savor it enough.

“Aaaaah… Craig, I-” His actual name slipped out of your vocal cords before you could reel it in, and you slapped your mouth with your hand, tensing up even more with the worry of having messed up when you were so close to release. But at this point he didn’t care; any word you used to call him sounded heavenly in your voice anyway, and he wasn’t in any condition to punish you when he was also struggling to hold back.

“Speak up…” One of his hands moved to your wrist, pulling your palm away from your face and stopping it from muffling your words.

“Ngh… Master, I need to cum,” you whined, visibly relaxing - but not by much, considering the need that made your muscles taut - with his overlooking of your mistake.”Can I- aah- can I c-cum for you? Please?”

His fingers tightened around your wrist as he nodded firmly. “Do it,” he grunted, and right after the last letter left his lips you were clenching impossibly around him, a true high-pitched scream of pleasure tearing your throat when you gave him the most beautiful form of surrender. Your legs flailed against his shoulders, but he paid it no mind: his attention was on your expression, watching through half-lidded eyes as your own rolled back and your jaw went slack.

Craig had no idea how he found the self-control to do what he did next. When your cunt tightened even more around him, being already on edge, he’d surely be a goner - but he managed to pull out at the last moment, a move that he patted himself on the back for during the whole ride home after your encounter. Throwing his head back with a prolonged moan, he took himself in his hand and aimed towards your body as he came, spilling sticky white jets directly onto your apron.

A moment was needed after that, him letting go of his cock and hovering over you again with his hands on the table while you just laid there, both of your heavy breaths the only thing audible in the small staff room. You just stared at each other for what seemed like forever, your own slowly refocusing eyes capturing the perfect moment where rational thinking graced the man’s mind again and he looked down to see his seed splattered on your work clothes.

“Oops,” he murmured, still not all that sound with his thoughts, “Sorry…”

“It’s… It’s alright…” You responded with your voice still small and trembling, making a random movement of dismissal with your hand.

He knew it actually wasn’t. If you didn’t wash it off as soon as possible, it risked staining, and the whiteness of the apron’s fabric would not be able to camouflage it at all. But, like for many other things, he didn’t care. In fact, it was thrilling to think about: to send you off back into work with that marking of what had transpired clear on your uniform, so you’d go and serve all those customers - however unhygienic that would be - and call them ‘masters’ without being able to hide the stamp of who really owned you.

Finding strength in his body again, he took his cock out of you and settled it back into his underwear, the light rustling of the denim and clinking of the belt as he buttoned his pants being overshadowed by the shuffle of your skirt as you sat back up on the table, legs dropping to dangle at the edge of it.

When he was fully decent and brought his attention back to you, it was obvious that you were nervous. Your feet were kicking the air by his sides, that adorable face still flush from shyness and lingering arousal, and you were looking down with your hands folded over your lap, carefully avoiding the still sticky residue on your clothes. Not a peep came from you, not that he expected it. Getting in your head about what that meant for the both of you, if he had to guess. Fucking a customer in your place of work wasn’t peak relationship starting conduct.

Craig, however, had no nervousness to feel. For him, there was nothing to mull over. He wasn’t used to the whole romance thing, which showed in how he acted, but for you he felt he was willing to try, even if it proved difficult. He had decided.

But he had to soothe your concerns somehow, even if he didn’t share them. So he brought his lips to the top of your head, pressing them against your hair; not forcing you to look up, and also catching a whiff of your delightful shampoo in the process.

“You really have to go now. I’ll stick around. See you when your shift is done,” he said as he pulled away.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

You finally looked up at him and it made his heart feel floaty. Lips slightly parted and swollen from all his kisses, doe eyes gleaming with hope and relief, the beginnings of what could be tears of joy forming - made him want to disregard the last statement and just whisk you away someplace nicer right then. Damn you, responsibilities.

Still it took a moment for you to gasp and blink frantically, as if caught off-guard noticing the distraction caused by how happy you were feeling. When you looked at him properly again, there was that smile Craig had learned to associate with himself.

“Yes, master.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[cegiel-athelia]

Snowfall Absolution

(Sequel to Zayne’s Master of Fate Myth)

In all honesty, the storyline broke me. It was not tragic like Foreseer’s myth, but it was by its own standing still devastating. I was crying at the end of it.

Writing this piece required some degree of research into the Chinese practices and culture. It was interesting and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Admittedly, I am somewhat glad that the developers left the myth open-ended because that meant we could form our own ending.

Hence, my need for closure has made me write this unofficial sequel.

There are some Destiny Cafe interactions which I felt alluded to a reunion and I have incorporated those lines in the story below.

Genre: Angst, Reconciliation, Fluff, Smut (sweet vanilla - ‘cause I cannot, at this time, imagine Master Zayne in any other manner, at least not when it is their first time together)

[An extended version of this fanfiction (involving ‘boom shakalaka’) is only found here on my Tumblr]

Friends from Insta and/or TikTok, welcome to Tumblr. Do drop me a note to say hi and/or share your thoughts on the story. :) I hope this helps to ease the heartbreak of the myth.

===================================

Sleep-ladened eyelids fluttered open as consciousness gradually returned to you and the stiffness in your body eased. The daylight which poured through the long oriental windows splayed across your face, making you shield your eyes behind your forearm. Your eyelids were still heavy from sleep and your temple throbbed as though you had been asleep for far too long.

Laying in bed still in a daze, you watched through your mind’s eye as frenzied visions raced through it. Visions that that felt so real, so alive, that it blurred the line between dream and reality.

In your dream, you had been searching for him for so long that you had almost given up any hope of ever seeing him again. Until one night, you found him. His face lacked the warmth you expected from him, but it was the fact that he had forgotten about you which broke your heart.

On hindsight, you could hardly say that your visions were dreams, but rather, a collection of nightmares, which massively snowballed with you caught in its path, never able to escape from it.

“Snowball…” you muttered tiredly, voice fresh from slumber. The distant melody of the wind chime seemed to grow louder as your mind focused on it. ‘Wind chime… A wind chime?’ Your eyelids flew open and your irises narrowed with sudden realisation. “Zayne!”

Never have you ever sprung out of bed so quickly, but you soon found yourself on the floor, the wooden boards creaked under your weight. You felt a pull in both your calf muscles as if you had not used your legs for months. Your breathing strained as though your lungs had not been used to its fullest capacity. Pushing these oddities from your mind, you strove to gather yourself.

Your eyes scanned the room, coming finally to rest on the long bamboo-printed drapes which swayed slowly side to side, assuring yourself that you are indeed remembering correctly. This is his abode.

‘But what if he isn’t there? What if I am still alone?’ Doubt filled your thoughts as you fought against every stubborn muscle to pick yourself up, ignoring the strain in your legs as you raced towards the doors, forcefully sliding them open.

A flash of sunlight blinded you, causing you to squint involuntarily and hide your eyes behind your fingers. Still, you persevered. You stumbled clumsily over lush green grass, quickening your pace once your eyes had adjusted to the light, heading towards the one place you knew you could find him.

The steady thumps of your feet against the crushing grass carried you as you neared the location where Sacred Tree stood. From where you were, you could already see the top of the tree. Its white flowers outshining the green leaves, painting the tree a pure white— like snow, except that it was warm.

You halted your approach when a tall figure standing under the tree came into view. You assimilated this person from afar. The man wore the very familiar navy blue and white garb; its long sleeves gracefully cascaded by each side of his elegant robe. His long black hair which was held together with a single embossed sliver hair clip swayed captivatingly in the wind and in his hand, was a jiǎndú— a bamboo scroll which he was immersed in. He was as magnificent as you remembered him to be.

Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears. It was all that you could hear. He was so close. The need to touch him was palpable. You needed to know that he is real and not simply a figment of your imagination or dream. Your eyes stung from tears that rolled down your cheeks.

Before you realised, your feet had lifted off the ground as you sped towards him with all the strength you could muster, colliding hard into his back. The scroll which he was reading thudded softly onto the grass.

You did not care for the shocked gasp he exhaled on impact. All you wanted and needed was to hold him. Your arms wrapped around his torso so tightly that it would take two strong men to free him. You held him as though he would disappear at any moment. Gripping onto his robe, you desperately wanted to appreciate the tangibility of his person. ‘He’s real!’ You internally repeated this to yourself. With your face buried firmly into his back, you soaked in the warmth of his frame.

His body relaxed in your hold and a familiar sigh drifted to your ears. You had never thought that you would feel this elated to hear him sigh.

“You’re as restless as ever.” He murmured in the low tenor that you missed so dearly as his hands came to rest over yours.

Your emotions completely enveloped you as you sobbed brokenly, face still buried in his strong back. As much as you hated for him to see you in this state, it was beyond your control. It was telling from the dull pain in your chest that your broken heart was aching; and it was aching for only him. The revelation overwhelmed you. It was not that you had simply enjoyed his company during the time you spent together or that you missed him in that strange, vivid period of dreaming. You love him.

Gently prying your hands away from his waist, he manoeuvred around to regard you. His arms reached around to pull you into an embrace. You lingered long in his hold, breathing in the sweet floral scent on his clothes and feeling a sense of calm washing over your being as your wayward emotions progressively steadied.

Withdrawing just slightly from him, you finally looked upon his face only to find him returning your gaze. The expression that he wore was soft, almost endearing. You found yourself wholly mesmerised by the emerald of his eyes.

“Zayne…” His name rolled from your lips.

His palms cupped your face; thumbs stroking away the residual tears staining your cheeks. “I thought you’d come when the snow stopped.” He chuckled softly. “It is now midway through Spring.”

A smiled crept onto your features, but you made sure to let out an annoyed click of your tongue at his teasing and brought your fists to rest at your hips. “Don’t be mean!”

Now free from your hold, the master proceeded to retrieve the fallen scroll and made his way to the Sacred Tree, settling comfortably under it. With a tiny tilt of his head, he beckoned you to join him as he resumed reading the scroll. Accepting the invitation, you sat quietly next to him. Your mind wandered to how puzzling it was that you were missing him so much, when all of it was merely a bad dream.

You rested your head lightly on his shoulder, appreciating his presence now more than ever. Simply that he did not react adversely to you, comforted you.

“Zayne?” You called out quietly.

Not averting his attention from the scroll, he answered, “hmm?”

You hesitated a moment before speaking. “I had a really bad dream. I dreamt that you and Bai left me in the mountain while I was asleep. I was reminded what it felt like to be alone...”

Zayne remained silent.

“When I awoke, my power was gone. You had left me a snow-covered umbrella, but it broke in the fourth year. Thereafter, people around me began acting strangely as if…” Your voice trailed off as you painfully recollected the dream. “As if I was a monster— like in the past. Except that, I was nowhere near a safe place and I survived by running from town to town.”

“I pursued tavern-gossips of a travelling old mage and it led me finally to the temple of Si-Ming..” Lifting your head off his shoulder, you leaned in to peer at Zayne whose eyes remained affixed on the scroll, but his gaze appeared distant.

“In the dark of the night on the tenth calendar year, I thought I saw you, or an apparition of you.” You braced yourself as the dream grew darker. “I recall feeling happy believing that I had finally found you after so many years, but when I called your name, you attacked me instead. Without my power, I couldn’t defend myself.”

Your fingers fidgeted with the tassel of his woven wrist bracelet, the same one you had chosen for him at the village during the day of the Nuoji— the Spring Sacrificial Ceremony.

“The last thing I remember was the cold ice creeping up from my feet, swallowing me whole. I was certain I was going to die by your hands…”

Allowing yourself engage in the emotions that you felt, you said half-teasingly, “And to think that all those years, only thoughts of you consumed me! It was those thoughts alone that kept me going. I had even bought you a pouch of those forever blooming flowers, called Jasmines, which I knew you’d love in case I found you at the temple.”

Zayne continued to keep mum as he watched your fingers twine and untwine his bracelet. You had expected him to at least smirk at your last line and deny any involvement since it was only a dream, but he only remained quiet with eyebrows furrowed.

You caught the momentary flitting of his gaze to the tiny white and green pouch sitting on the table. A feeling of déjà vu washed over you as a memory of a merchant placing a similar coloured pouch in your palms replayed itself. Your mind was reeling. You saw another vision of the pouch falling onto the temple’s cobblestones when you had dodged an attack by the Zayne in your dreams.

It was then that realisation dawned on you and a heavy weight pulled on your heart.

“Zayne.. Please, tell me that it was all a bad dream.” Your voice left you more brokenly than you expected.

He sighed, “I cannot,” as he took the pouch and poured its contents onto his open hand. Little white flowers coated in ice glistened under the sunlight, refracting a myriad of colours around you. He had cryonically preserved them to last forever for reasons that were best known only to himself. However, the beauty of the flowers was lost in that moment as your mind struggled to cope with the disbelief, waiting for him to explain.

“I did what I must to protect you.” He was always one of few words and this time was no different. Zayne returned the jasmines into the pouch and set it back on the table preciously.

Your gaze travelled from the pouch to stare blankly at the grass and your fingers grasp tightly onto the hem of your skirt, afraid to hear the answer to your next question. “…How long has it been, Zayne?”

“A century.” Nonchalantly, he leaned forward to lift the clay teapot. The fragrant notes of the pu’er cha permeated the air as tea streamed into the teacup.

“I’ve been asleep for a hundred years?!” You exclaimed in shock, placing your palms on the ground before you and leaning in to check his expression to ascertain if he was joking.

The master merely shrugged, while sipping from the earthen teacup. “Well, you did sleep for longer than I had anticipated. It is midway through Spring.”

Your mouth was agape. A joke at this time did not feel appropriate. You rolled your eyes at his bone dry humour and puffed out your cheeks in a pout.

With a chuckle, he returned the tiny teacup to the table and then, reached to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, while wearing an expression that was gentle and kind. It was impossible to be angry with Zayne.

You scooted to sit in the space between his legs. His green eyes followed your every movement. “Zayne..” you returned his gaze and gingerly, placed a palm on his cheek. With utmost seriousness, you revealed all that you were keeping in your heart, “please, don’t ever leave me again. At least, not for my sake, but only for your own, if you must.”

A gentle smile graced the lips of the Master of Fate as he grabbed you into an embrace. His chin rested atop your hair as his voice resounded clearly inside your mind, “Then I will never leave you. Not even if fate wills it.”

====================================

Your fingertips traced over the finely woven material of his robe as you basked in his embrace, resting your head against his broad chest. His heart was resonating a steady and consistent beat in your ear. The serenity of his presence and that of the Sacred Tree made all of this feel so surreal that you hoped that you were not actually dreaming. A hundred years was way more than enough.

Zayne felt the slight change in your aura when doubt started to fill you and he released you from his embrace to gaze upon you.

He was extraordinarily handsome, even more so when he wore this kind expression. It was hard to not be completely mesmerised by him. Your focus trailed from his eyes to his lips which was a mere distance away such that his gentle breaths tickled your nose. A whisper of his name glided from your lips as your fingers grasped onto the material of his cloak. You yearned to close the gap and you wondered if he felt the same since he did not seek to put distance between your bodies. You pressed your palm to gently cup the side of his jaw and your lashes hooded your eyes. The tip of your nose brushed against his, hoping that this deity would oblige and grant your wish.

His familiar floral scent wafted into your nose with the breeze. It was almost as if time had stopped around the both of you. Then, you thought your heart had ceased when his eyelids lowered and his lips pressed lightly onto yours. You wound your arms round his neck and your chest pressed flushed against his unyielding one. The kisses grew hungrier with each moment that passed, both of you revelling in the newness of your shared feelings.

So consumed you were with his decadent blessings that you next found yourself being laid gently onto the grass. He barely broke away from your lips as he did. His long ponytail fell over his shoulders and onto the side of you. His robe cascaded on both sides of you, almost hiding you within it.

Unlike his icy demeanour, his body, which pressed against yours was warm like the gentle sunlight, melting away your worries. His kisses were fervent and needy, wanting nothing more than to taste every inch of you. You moaned into his mouth, begging him to bestow you with more of him. Your fingers tangled themselves in his silky long hair. Your entirety ached for him especially when a pressure came into contact with your secret place. The evident bulge at his crotch rolled against your burning center, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine which caused your body to arch gracefully into his.

Zayne hissed at the buck of your hips, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut. He was such a gorgeous man. He groaned almost ferally as he regained himself, green eyes now tinted a dark shade of desire, until a sudden look of realisation gripped him and he attempted to recoil.

“Don’t..” you held on. Thumb caressing his well-defined cheekbone. “Don’t stop.”

A pink hue glowed across his cheeks to his ears. “Is this okay? I don’t want to hurt you.”

The nuance in his words made your stomach coil and your femininity pool in anticipation. “You won’t.” You leaned up to take his lips again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders, guiding him back to you.

He took you desperately. Crashing his lips into yours, he slipped his tongue past your teeth to meet yours in a passionate dance. His gloved fingers caressed tiny circles on your neck. Your kisses continued growing more heated and the groans from the both of you reverberated in the surroundings. You fumbled clumsily at the waistband of his pants from your position, that is, underneath him. It was clear what you wanted, needed. Zayne revelled in observing you attempt to undress his lower half, thoughtfully raising his body just slightly to give your hands space to work.

Finally managing to free his aching manhood from the confines of his pants, your heart momentarily faltered. Zayne’s earlier cause for concern was legitimate. He was after all, magnificently yet frighteningly well-endowed.

He was pleased with your apprehension and rewarded you by angling down to kiss you. You felt his heated, engorged tip graze against your folds, moving ever so slightly in time with his kisses, sliding back and forth only at the outskirts, and coating himself slick in the process. The deliberate loitering at your entrance and the sensual motions against your swollen peak was torturously maddening. You cried into his lips from the sensitivity; your hooded eyes pleading for more. With an inhale, he slid his tongue into your mouth and eased his tip into you inch by inch as your walls fought to snuffle out the intruding thickness.

Your body worked on overdrive just trying to accommodate his endowment. His girth so thick that it filled every inch of you. You cried out to him, fingers desperately gripping onto his biceps for dear life. Your constraints clinged onto every part of him, successfully ripping a groan from his throat when he finally buried all of himself deep inside you.

You wrapped your legs around his hips, guiding him impossibly deeper into your depths as your eyelids grew far too heavy for you to keep them opened. His elbows rested on the grass at either side of your shoulder as he set a slow and steady rhythm.

His face was buried in the crux of your neck, lips hovering at your throat, every one of his exhalations burned against your skin. He then closed his mouth over your hastening pulse, causing your insides to clamp hard and elicited from you a whimper which you failed to contain.

“Am I hurting you?” His voice was evidently unsteady as he battled against his desire to ravage you without care.

You shook your head, looked into his eyes, and said, “no, I want to experience everything with you.. and about you..”

Zayne throbbed within you at your words, and released a growl into your nape as his hips surged forward in an uncontrolled thrust. You gasped beneath him. Fingers grasping onto his garment with one hand and the other pressing its palm to the back of his head, the metal hair ornament underneath cold against your touch.

Your body rocked in sync with his now surging tempo. His corybantic pants at the side of your ear was telling of how close he was to relenting to his gratification. His length plowed with utmost precision into you, extending deeper and hitting harder, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut from pleasurable pain. The curve of his shaft so perfect that each stroke into you rubbed against the one tender spot that made the blood rush to your head. A burning coil in your insides already accumulating dangerously. It took all of you to keep your mind from reeling.

“Zayne, I’m close.” You rasped between breaths, the glorious sensations making it difficult to think of anything else but the impending rapture.

“So am I.” His words faltered as he slipped his arms between your back and the ground to scoop you up to straddle him, your thighs above his. The deepened contact of his manhood against your cervix was sending mind-blowing jolts with each thrust. Your back arched onerously as he brought you closer and closer. You were losing control of your own body, your insides clamping down erratically as you neared your release.

He groaned at the tightening of your walls around his shaft. His hips bucking upwards to plunge himself into you with urgency while burying his flushed face in your nape to muffle his delicious moans.

The tremendous pleasure he was building inside you was threatening to burst forth at any given moment. Every stoke drove you closer and closer to the edge. His name rolled repeatedly from your lips; one more urgent and pleading than the last, as you could no longer form coherent thought. All that was important and needed now, is him and only all of him.

Then, a blinding burst of white light flashed behind your eyelids and pleasure overtook you, completely invading your senses. Your fingers gripped desperately onto anything it could hold onto. Your body arched involuntarily into him, trembling with each jolt of euphoria.

Zayne gasped as your release overpowered your control of your movements, your walls pulsating fiercely against his length. A wave of tingling pleasure rippled under his skin as he struggled to withstand the overwhelming sensations in futility. As a last spurt, he bucked upwards unbridled and unrestrained, allowing himself to finally succumb to his climax with a strangled grunt. He shut his eyes tight and emptied rope after rope into your vacant space.

Shuddering as he came down from his high, he collapsed, laying his ear on your heaving chest. Both your breathing laboured and uneven.

“Are you alright?” He asked shakily, gathering enough strength to gaze into your eyes.

“Mm.” you nodded, giving him a faint smile. Your fingers brushed the misplaced strands of his black hair back to where they belonged. “I love you, Zayne.”

His jade orbs sparkled in the light as he chuckled softly. “Is that so?” Pressing his lips to your forehead, he whispered, “I’ve loved you before I met you. Hold me and never let go.”

[turbulentscrawl]

i haven't seen lots of edgar content lately,, maybe general hcs for edgar valden if you can? :D

👌

-Edgar is a tunnel-visioned, broken-hearted creator who spends most of his energy seeking out the meaning of life and a reason to live. After the death of his mother and sister, he gave up on fulfillment through love or friendship, and now appreciates the world only through his art. Otherwise, he is apathetic. He does remain cordial with people, though, like his mother taught him to be.

-Edgar is an observer in most senses of the word. He rarely cares to devote energy to conversation himself, so he watches and listens instead. He doesn’t have much remaining interest in participating in the ‘game’ that is society, or the subtle mind-games it requires, but he is intrigued by other people’s reactions to them. When he does interact with others, he expects it to be strait-laced. Anything else is a waste of his time. (In short, he’s nosey. He enjoys knowing all the gossip but very rarely spreads it himself.)

-In that same vein, if Edgar has a specific opinion on something, you know it’s because that something has inspired him in some way. Edgar is a Centrist and does not hold very strong views of political or social situations one way or the other. In general, he thinks it’s best to let people do what they want, so long as it doesn’t interfere with what he or anyone else wants.

-Since the betrayal of his master, he’s developed a strikingly low tolerance for interruptions and interference. Edgar’s artistic muse is the most important thing in life to him, and he’s already lost it once. He’s not willing to lose it again, and does not give a damn about what anyone else thinks about his methods of maintaining it.

-Edgar was used by people for so long for his artistic skills that he has a hard time connecting with anyone who’s first interest in him relates to that. Ironically, with time Edgar gets along well with people like Kevin, who was confrontational and distrusting of Edgar in the beginning. Kevin did not give a fuck about Edgar’s art, and disliked him for some entirely different principal. And his art neither salvaged Kevin’s opinion nor won him over when they were finally on neutral terms. People like that can be trusted to be genuine, as far as Edgar is concerned, and frankly Edgar doesn’t see conflict as a dealbreaker for friendships or relationships. Disagreements happen.

-He’s physically weak—this boy has never seen a day of recreational exercise in his life. He is, however, not squeamish or easily disgusted. He dislikes what he perceives as ugliness, but has no issues witnessing or interacting with dirt, grime, or gore. He’s also not easily frightened and tends to be one of the more level-headed survivors in matches. He holds a similar reverence to death as Aesop and isn’t afraid of dying in matches. Some little part of him wishes it could be permanent—as some final devotion to his art, his Swan Song.

-Edgar cross-dresses sometimes. He needs no particular reason for it, as far as he’s concerned, but if you must know it just comes down to ‘he likes what he likes.’ And he likes flowy skirts. He’s not the type to let the gender roles of a society he’s not even part of anymore dictate what he wears. Were he alive in a modern world, he may identity as Agender. He doesn’t care much about gender and just presents however he feels like on a given day.

-Outside of his art studio and bedroom, Edgar is terrible at keeping track of things. He’s blind to anything he sets down outside of those two spaces, it simply no longer exists to him. Other people in the manor are often returning his things to him (especially Joker, who has a knack for finding things without even knowing they were lost.)

-When he was younger, he was taught several other skills that were normal for young men of high class. Piano and dancing, for instance. he didn't like them enough to practice much after his mother died, but he's still decent at them.

-Edgar has commandeered several hallways of the manor to hang his art. He’ll probably take over more later—he’s got an eternity to make his art, after all.

[piglet26]

Reylo Scenes: TFA

The day after the Force Awakens Ren and Rey were christened Reylo. I always laugh when Lucasfilm and JJ Adams tried to keep this pairing neutral and "suggestive" like seriously. The seeds were laid in the first film for FinnRey and Reylo, but really Reylo was always going to reign supreme not only because of the chemistry between Daisy Ridley and Adam Driver but the writing, art direction, acting and even costuming leaned Reylo heavily.

Reylo are introduced as Ying Yang right off the bat. Ren arriving in Jakku by night in black with a black mask. Rey meet on Jakku by day in white with a white mask.

The first time Ren hears about Rey or "the girl" he reaches out towards the camera and Rey reaches back towards him.

It's stated that Ren and Rey had similar visions of one another without understanding who the other was. In Rey's lightsaber vision she sees Ren very clearly setting up that he, bringing him back to the light, is her future.

On Takodana, it's canon that the production team wanted Ren's arrival to be like a prince arriving at a castle to meet a princess. "In this scene she is drawn to this place almost like Cinderella." FYI Ben Solo is an actual Prince. You know the twisted Star Wars version.

Then there is their first scene in Takodana. In the novelization this moment is more intense than the already intense movie scene. Kylo Ren recognizes that this is the girl that created a ripple in the force. He's fascinated with her. The standby stormtroopers actually are noted to having a reaction to his odd interaction with her. Despite the fact that he probably could've taken the information from her then, he bridal carries her out.

Having circled her, he moved even close peering into her face, her eyes

"It is you," he murmured.

The interrogation scene - the moment the Reylo fandom was born. Does it bother me that she's strapped to a BDSM stand? No. It's actually very clear that she's a peer. He doesn't approach her like he did with Poe Dameron. He's kneeling down as he observes her. She's a powerful force user and he does respect her on that level. He also does want her to be comfortable hence taking his mask off and girl....

I know you were not expecting this fine ass man to be behind that mask.

Believe me, I would've had all kinds of images in my head he would've picked up on.

He also checks her out physically. He's focused on the information he needs but overall he is attracted to her and very interested.

Rey surprised him but not being the simply girl she was in the forest. She is actually powerful in the force "untrained but stronger than she knows."

"Don't be afraid. I feel it"

Reylos "Feel what exactly. The minds want to know."

It's also canon in this scene that their force bond starts in this moment. She actually learns how to get in his brain from him getting into here's.

Force bonds between masters and apprentices aren't new. It used for defense/offence and it makes it so skills are easy to translate to apprentices.

Now their fight scene which was filled with sexual tension that everyone noted. It's still complex. Rey's instinct is to defend herself and Finn. She also just saw him murder someone. Ren is fleshing her out and testing her. It's like sparring. Where it's get's interesting is when they spiritually connect.

Daisy Ridley "Finding the force together"

Ren "You need a teacher. I can show you the ways of the force"

Many people read the moment as Rey finding the force on her own but it's actually the both of the moving through the force together. Kylo Ren actually finds a powerful ally/kinship with her and reaches out for that connection. Considering he rejects most of his connections this is actually a big deal. Is looking for a girlfriend? No, but he is looking for somebody.

Rey has such a conflicted view of him and an off kilter one.

Rey beating Ren is stupid. Even if he is injured, emotional damaged and surprised. It's stupid. It should've been a draw.

His stunned "Just Marry Me" face is also really great.

It's a great start and a unique relationship especially in the Star Wars universe. It's ridiculous that adults who grew up on Han/Leia find romance something purely feminine now and so unlike Star Wars hahaha either way Reylos stay winning.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

I love how stanikins bend over backwards to attempt to make Obi-Wan and the Jedi look callous and uncaring when all evidence points otherwise.

Obi-Wan is too harsh on him after he endangers his men and Ashoka to save a droid with confidential information on it which he didn’t wipe purposefully, oh no!!! He’s abusive!!!

Obi-Wan putting the good of the Galaxy above the ones he love because it’s his duty and philosophy to put the good of the collective above the good of the few he loves. Oh no!!!! He’s heartless!!! He should’ve let Anakin jump off the moving vehicle to save padme because muh love story!!!! He should’ve known that Anakin’s dreams about his mother dying was a vision and not a dream!!! Definitely not like Anakin told him it was a vision, “just a dream” verbatim from Anakin himself!!! Like if we take legends into consideration then Obi-Wan, someone who is strong in the Unifying force, would definitely have done shit if Anakin told him outright it was a vision but how was he supposed to know when Anakin himself 1) never had a vision before this and 2) never told his master what occurred in said vision?

Obi-Wan would’ve made Anakin fess up to the Tusken massacre if Anakin told him!!! He should’ve been a safe space for Anakin and been accepting like Padme and covered this horrendous miscarriage of justice out of love!!! He didn’t provide a safe space for a mass murderer therefore he deserves blame for it!!!!

The council didn’t want to admit a very clearly traumatized slave child who’s recently been freed because he would not be able to fully commit to their philosophy of non-attachment due to his experience and asking him to change how he viewed the world so shortly after being separated from his one support in life would be cruel so they denied him, therefore he was right to hate them!!! Especially Mace Windu because, checks notes, he was mean (???) to him (???) in the first act of the phantom menace???? Like have y’all not watched TCW and how Mace interacted with him????

Stanikins literally have every excuse under the sun to justify his every atrocity without giving him any agency in his own choice. His story is a tragedy!!! Let it be a tragedy!!! He was a slave boy with godly powers and traumatized beyond imagination! He could’ve been great if the circumstances were different, if one thing changed he would’ve been the greatest Jedi there were, but because he is literally doomed by the narrative, we cannot see him be the person he could be. He has great capacity for kindness of selflessness but because of his experience fear wins out and he desperately holds onto all the affection and love he could because his time as a slave taught him to do so. It’s a disservice to take away his agency, to make all his bad and disastrous decisions the fault of someone else, is to make him one dimensional. Let him be the villain he is and mourn the child he was and the person he could’ve been if he wasn’t doomed by the narrative before the prequels even came out. Let him be tragic. Let his decisions be tragic and doomed and unavoidable. Let him be sucked into villainy the moment he decided that his revenge is worth more than the lives of those that did not participate in the murder and torture of his mother. Let him be utterly unredeemable because of his actions. Let him doomed by his own actions as well as the narrative. Let him be himself instead of woobifying him into a victim of everyone else’s actions but his own.

He choose to massacre the Tuskens. He choose to massacre the Jedi. He choose to hunt any remaining Jedi left in the Galaxy for 20 years. He choose to put the life of his wife above the people who raised him and took him into their culture. He choose to do that himself. And it is tragic. It is sad. But it is no one’s fault but his own. His formative years shaped him into one who jealously hordes all forms of affection form those he loved most as a trauma response. He understands Jedi teachings (literally a whole arc in TCW where he teaches Ashoka what it means to be a Padawan and Jedi) he just doesn’t internalize it because of his trauma. He takes no one’s council but his own (showcased when he went to Yoda to ask for a method of cheating death and Yoda’s advice was sound if he were talking to any other Jedi other than Anakin).

Star Wars may be a a story of hope but it is also a tragedy. It’s about a boy how could’ve been great, it’s about a boy who was so full of hope and dooming himself because he’s too afraid and refuses to let the fear go so it turns into anger and hate. Taking away Anakins agency and blaming his actions on other people takes away the tragedy that is having someone great fall. A boy who was bad cannot fall and be doomed. It’s only those that have the potential to be great that falls the hardest and by taking away his own culpability in bringing in a genocidal empire (one he wished to rule no less) takes away the inherent tragedy of seeing someone so bright fall so low.

[pallyjelly]

Wind Only Fuels the Fire (Ninjago Oneshot)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64019482

For my Darkley’s Au

Kai is having trouble reaching out to Lloyd when a certain master of wind keeps getting in between the two of them. Finally, the fire ninja gets a chance to convince Morro to leave him alone. The question is, does it work?

Morro was honestly starting to get on Kai’s nerves. It had only been little over a month since the group of ninja had joined Darkley’s Boarding School for Bad Kids, but the fire ninja had not been impressed by his first encounter with the former. Nor his second. Nor his third. And the feeling seemed mutual with the master of wind.

The feud between the two of them had began on one of Kai’s first days. He had spotted Sensei Wu’s nephew sitting on a boulder about four feet tall that was near the entrance of the academic center. Everything seemed to match his sensei’s description of his nephew: a blond boy, around five feet tall, sporting a skeleton hoodie and all alone. Kai straightened his shirt collar and headed in Lloyd’s direction with the friendliest smile he could muster up. If what Wu said was right, then this kid was hardly a replica of his evil incarnate father. It had taken a while for Kai to believe that until he saw the boy alone, craning his neck to watch the clouds pass by and mumbling something under his breath with a childlike smile.

The fire ninja opened his mouth to greet the boy when a flash of dark green entered Kai’s vision. Someone else had beaten him to the kid, already striking up a conversation that caused Lloyd’s smile to widen. Although a bit annoyed, Kai was undeterred as he walked up to the two of them.

“Hey there, name’s Kai. I’m new around here.” The spiky haired brunette casually leaned against the rock, aiming for a “yeah, I’m the cool kind of bad boy” vibe. Lloyd’s head tilted in curiosity while the boy beside him sent a deadly glare in Kai’s direction. Before Kai could even try to smooth over the hostile air that was surrounding the three, the kid with a green streak through his black hair turned to Lloyd and said,

“I got some candy in our dorm room. You better grab a few pieces before I eat the rest of it tonight.” With wide eyes, the blond leapt off of the rock, not even looking back at the two as he called out,

“Bye Morro! Bye Kai!” The moment Lloyd was out of view, Kai scowled at Morro, who was wearing a smug smirk on his face.

“What in the world was that for? I just wanted to talk to him-”

“Listen up,” Morro’s grin quickly dropped as he met Kai’s eyes. “I know what your kind are like, alright? I know what your trying to do and it’s not gonna happen, buddy. Let go of whatever scheme you and your friends made involving Lloyd.” The fire ninja clenched a fist at his side. What was wrong with this guy? Morro spun on his heel and headed off in the direction Lloyd ran in. Kai crossed his arms, hoping his glare would burn a hole into the back of Morro’s head.

“Jerk…” He muttered under his breath. At least he knew he was right about the kid being Lloyd, but the whole interaction still felt like a failure. Suddenly, Kai felt air itself shove him from behind, making him fall onto his back, similar to a cartoon character slipping on a banana. His breath escaped from inside of him, leaving him gasping for a moment before finally catching himself. It wasn’t something he could prove, but Kai had a gut feeling Morro had something to do with it. With a frustrated groan, Kai covered his face with his hands, slightly tugging at the bits of hair in front of his face.

Aside from more brief failed attempts at talking to Lloyd, all of which involved Morro directing both the conversation and the kid somewhere else, Kai’s second interaction with the master of wind had been during Master Chen��s Improv battle simulator class. His teacher was straight up weird, wearing silky, long red and purple robes, as well as some sort of strange makeup around his eyes (something seemingly straight out of Dareth’s cosmetics class) That day, kids were randomly drawn from slips of paper inside a serpentine skull (don’t ask Kai how that was allowed, especially with two of his other teachers being snakes) and told to attack each other in a one versus one fight. “Fair” didn’t seem to exist within the vocabulary of his teacher, who watched with an unnerving, wide grin when a ten year old had been pinned to fight against a sixteen year old. Kai grimaced, trying his best to look away from most of the fights, since many ended in at least one of the kids bleeding. Cole and Jay were also in the same period as Kai for this class, and for a moment he felt relief that he wasn’t the only one looking away from the unnecessary violence taking place. That was until a shrill voice cooed behind Kai,

“Ohh, poor things. You three not used to how Darkley’s functions yet?” The red ninja had to stop himself from wincing as he turned around to face his teacher, who wore an expression of fake sympathy on his face. Kai bowed slightly, speaking for the three as he said,

“No, but we’ll learn, Master.” It felt wrong to address someone like Chen with such a title, especially when putting the man side by side with someone like Sensei Wu. Kai heard Jay whisper behind him,

“Oh, I think I’m gonna throw up…” Kai sent a glare back at his friend, whose attention had gone back to the current fight. Cole coughed loudly, bumping Jay with his shoulder to direct his attention back to Master Chen. It was no use. With a gleam in his eyes, Master Chen clapped his hands loudly and announced.

“Alright, that’s enough, I’m bored. New competitors!” The ten year old let out a sigh of relief as his older opponent growled in frustration, both returning to the crowd of thirty-some kids. Master Chen laid a hand on Kai’s shoulder, immediately setting off alarms in the fire ninja’s head. He couldn’t help his shoulders tensing up, but the ninja managed to keep himself from recoiling away from the unwanted touch.

“Since your friend here has an odd stomach ache, perhaps showing him the worst he’ll have to see will get him used to my teachings.” Kai scoffed at the last word when Chen made his way over to the snake skull. He reached through the eye sockets stuffed with paper and withdrew a piece, keeping it tucked away in his fist for a moment. With a wicked grin, he motioned to Kai and, with a booming voice, said, “Up first, we have Kai Smith. Newcomer and weakling when it comes to viewing what’s necessary to become a successful future overlord.” Jay sent a nervous glance at Kai as he passed his friends to enter the center of the combat ring, which only had fellow students as its boundary line.

“Sorry,” Jay whispered, as Cole sighed, the latter shaking his head and sliding his headphones over his ears. Kai shrugged, quickly replying,

“It was bound to happen soon in this class, anyway...” The fire ninja couldn’t keep his nervous smile on his face for long as he waited to see who his opponent would be. His stomach dropped when Master Chen announced after reading off of the slip of paper, “Versus…Morro, elemental master of wind!” The dread that had overcome Kai quickly transformed into anger when he realized he had been right about Morro causing him to fall. The latter entered the circle nonchalantly, letting out an audible sigh and rolling his eyes.

“And here I thought class was actually gonna to be interesting today…” He grumbled, his words getting under Kai’s skin immediately as a few kids let out hesitant laughs. Whispers about Morro “wiping out the new kid” began to surface. The fire ninja felt his body temperature rising as his hands grew warmer and warmer. Over the angry buzzing in his ears, Kai could just barely hear Cole call out his name. His friend mouthed “no powers” with a sharp look. Right. The ninja were undercover after all. With a huff, Kai forced himself to calm down, the heat in his hands dying out. Was this really the extent of his patience? A few taunting words and Kai was sparking up flames? He had to remember what the goal was. Keep Lloyd safe, expose this school to the public eye. Neither of those would be an easy feat if he showed his elemental power to the villainous teachers at Darkley’s.

With a sharp exhale through his nose, Kai threw a glare in Morro’s direction, who stared right back, relaxed and unfazed. His hands kept to his pants pockets as Chen explained, “No physical weapons this round! You never know when you might find yourself disarmed. And remember, only one can remain! START!!” Kai balled his fits, lifting them in the air while taking a more offensive stance. Sensei Wu had taught the ninja how to fight without their powers. It was what they had first learned before even realizing they had any. But Wu also said that they had begun relying too heavily on them. Kai wished that hadn’t been the case as Morro swiftly dodged his blow, narrowing his eyes. With a huff of frustration, Kai made another swing in the kid’s direction. Morro ducked, hair whipping in the air as he did so. The red ninja felt a sense of uneasiness when the master of wind smirked and whispered so only Kai could hear him, “Now it’s my turn.”

The brunette barely avoided a kick meant to sweep his legs out from underneath him. With a flip backwards, Kai landed near the ground, both arms and legs bent, now at eye level with Morro. Two could play this dance of dodging and weaving. With a grunt, Morro landed a punch at Kai’s shoulder. Gritting his teeth, Kai stopped himself from grabbing the area which would certainly leave a bruise by the next morning. Yeesh, this kid didn’t like holding back. Whatever. Kai’s powers may have been off the table, but surely that didn’t include spinjitzu, right? You didn’t need to be an elemental master to learn that art of combat. Biting his tongue to keep from saying “ninja go”, a silly catchphrase he and his friends had come up with during training, Kai spun around and hit his target face on. When the red ninja had balanced himself again, he was pleased to find Morro had been knocked down and was looking up at Kai with a bewildered expression etching his face. He almost felt pride (almost) when praise from Master Chen reached his ears.

“Oooo, a master of spinjitzu? Haven’t seen one of those in awhile! Do it again!” Kai chuckled before retorting to his opponent,

“Not as easy as you thought it would be, huh?” With a growl, Morro made a gust of wind swirl in the palm of his hands before sending the flying current into Kai’s chest. The fire ninja let out a “oof” while managing to stay on his feet. Morro had gotten up by now, and continued to send quick poofs of wind in Kai’s direction, each hitting him almost as hard as Morro had punched him earlier. Finally dodging one of his assailant’s attacks, Kai looked to Chen and pointed at his attacker, “Hey, he’s using his wind! You said no weapons.” Chen threw himself back into a swivel chair that used to sit behind his desk, smiling lazily at the distressed student. What seemed to be dark, dead snakes hanging around Chen’s shoulders flopped around as he did so.

“I said no physical weapons, master of spinjitzu. His wind and your spinny tornado don’t fit into that box. Now fight.” Kai frowned as a confident grin made its way onto Morro’s face. The red ninja gulped, despite hearing encouraging words from Cole on the sidelines,

“It doesn’t matter that he’s got powers. Come on, it’s just like our training. You’ve got this.” Despite his friend meaning well, Kai was very bitter over that last part after the battle was finished.

Kai winced, letting out an upset grunt as the master of earth pressed an icepack against the back of the red ninja’s head. Cole’s music could be heard slightly as his headphones hung around his neck. Crickets chirped outside the dark dorm window before Zane shut it, muffling the noise and the heat coming from outside.

“Okay, so you lost one fight, big deal,” Cole shrugged, trying to keep the mood light. Girls weren’t allowed in the guys’ dorm, so Nya couldn’t see Kai at the moment and Jay apparently had an important “business transaction” with some of the other kids at school (whatever in the world thatmeant), so it was just Kai, Cole and Zane gathered in the first two’s room. The black ninja shuffled on the bed he and Kai were sitting on so as to meet the latter’s eyes. “There’s always next time. And besides, you were up against an elemental master. I’d hardly call that fight fair when you couldn’t use your fire.” Kai sighed, holding a second ice pack up to his cheekbone.

“Yeah, but Chen was right. Morro doesn’t know spinjitzu, but I do. That should’ve been something, but I still lost. How am I supposed to knock some sense into him about letting us talk to Lloyd when he knocks me down first?” Zane sat down with his back straight up on the bed where Cole usually slept, right across from Kai. An inquisitive look passed over his face as he tilted his head and asked, “You fought him to talk to Lloyd?”

“Well, yes and no,” Kai grumbled, flopping backwards. He let out an annoyed “ow” when his head hit the wall. Pushing himself back up, he sighed. “ I mean, I had to fight him for class, but I still would’ve liked proving a point by winning. And now he’s gonna hold that over my head whenever I even look in Lloyd’s direction.” He shook his head, looking at the ground. “Sensei Wu’s gonna be disappointed when he hears none of us could even speak with Lloyd.” Cole and Zane said at the same time,

“That’s not true-”

“I’ve spoken with Lloyd.” Cole mirrored Kai’s shock as both ninja looked at Zane. The former asked the question both of them were wondering.

“What do you mean by that? You found him alone? Away from Morro?” Zane shrugged, oblivious to their confusion.

“More like he found me alone. I’d say we had quite the lovely conversation, after he tripped me that is.” For a moment, nobody said anything. Zane raised an eyebrow, “You haven’t had time to talk with him yet? What about Jay and Nya?”

“Zane, why didn’t you tell us this?!” Kai practically exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and dropping the icepack which he had been holding.

“You didn’t ask…” Now it was Zane’s turn to look confused. Cole and Kai slowly turned to look at each other before they both let out a hearty laugh. Kai grinned so wide his face hurt,

“So it’s not impossible! Okay, okay we actually have a chance against Morro!” His arms flopped down as Zane asked quietly, “Against Morro? Isn’t he just another student attending this school? Why do you see him as a threat?” Kai let out another laugh before all three heard Jay’s shrill voice shout out in the hallway outside their dorm room, “I’M RICH!!!”

Five seconds later, the blue ninja timidly stuck his head in through the doorway, only opening the door a smidge. His voice had dropped back down to a quieter, calmer octave as he stated, “Hey Zane, it’s almost curfew. We should probably get back in our room.” The ice ninja nodded, joining Jay in the hallway and carefully shutting the door. There was a moment of calm before Kai got up with his grin still plastered against his face while opening up the window. Cole raised an eyebrow as the fire ninja stuck a leg outside, beginning to climb onto the roof right above the first floor dorm rooms.

“Didn’t you hear? It’s almost curfew.” Kai shrugged, fully out of the window by then. He winked at the earth ninja. “Gotta tell Nya the news, cover for me will ya? Gonna throw pebbles at her window till she opens up.” Cole sighed, a small smile on his face as Kai slipped away into the darkness. He took off his headphones and laid on his bed, music now playing full blast from his pocket radio instead.

—

Author Note:

Morro: When I first met you, I thought you were weird and annoying. Kai: And? Morro: And you are.

—

Also, Jay’s “business transaction” is not a one time thing lol. Will be explored more in a different oneshot

[bardic-tales]

Revamped OC: Azrakiel (Asmodeus), the Prince of Lust

Warnings: Violence, manipulation, mind control, body horror, religious themes, psychological abuse, SA inferred.

🌙 Name: Azrakiel (known as Asmodeus) 🔮 Age: Ancient (several millennia) 👤 Gender: Male 🌌 Fandom: Original Universe (Fantasy Worlds Collide), briefly FF 7 🌟 Ship: None (Manipulates relationships for power) 📅 Date of Birth: Early Days of Creation 👹 Father: The Creator 🎭 Faceclaim: Tom Hiddleston

Character Overview

Role in FWC: Antagonist

Azrakiel, now known as Asmodeus, is a fallen archangel turned infernal prince who embodies corruption, power, and control. Once a Commander in Lucifer's rebellion, his fall transformed him into the Prince of Lust, a master manipulator who thrives on suffering and chaos. His ultimate goal is to reshape reality itself through a kilonova event orchestrated by his daughter, Bianca. His motivations are driven by a wounded pride and a desire to surpass his former divine status.

Character Overview

🌟 Persona: Azrakiel is cunning, ruthless, and charismatic, wielding both his celestial intellect and demonic powers with calculated precision. His strengths lie in manipulation, strategic foresight, and unmatched mastery of dark magic, while his weaknesses stem from his obsession with control.

🎭 Personality: Azrakiel's personality is a complex blend of aristocratic charm and unrelenting cruelty. His interactions are often laced with deceptive kindness, masking his true intent to dominate and reshape reality.

💑 Transcendent Bond: Azrakiel's most significant relationship is with his daughter, Bianca. Though he views her as a tool to fulfill his ambitions, there is an undercurrent of possessiveness and twisted pride. His manipulation of her is a power move.

⚔️ Courage in Conflict: Azrakiel's bravery is reflected in his willingness to challenge both celestial and infernal hierarchies. His ability to turn the tides of battle through manipulation and psychological warfare highlights his tactical prowess. However, his courage is tainted by his lack of empathy and his readiness to sacrifice anyone for his goals.

✨ Likes & Dislikes

Likes: Power, control, chaos, classical music, intricate plans, fine wine.

Dislikes: Rebellion, sentimentality, inefficiency, reminders of his angelic past.

🌿 A Soul of Many Hobbies Azrakiel has a refined taste for the arts, particularly opera and classical literature. He collects rare artifacts imbued with dark magic and often spends his time weaving intricate schemes to manipulate celestial and infernal politics.

💫 Powers and Abilities: Azrakiel wields a vast array of powers derived from both his celestial origins and demonic corruption. His most notable ability is nightmare manipulation—invading dreams to plant fears or twisted visions. As the Prince of Lust, he can control desires, corrupt souls, and create succubi and incubi. His necromantic abilities allow him to communicate with and control the dead. His celestial heritage grants him control brief control over light and holy magic, albeit corrupted by infernal energy, making him a unique threat to both angels and demons.

💔 Weaknesses: Azrakiel's fractured divine essence makes him vulnerable to powerful celestial magic and weapons forged by the Creator. His obsession with control leads him to underestimate the free will of others, especially Bianca. His emotional detachment makes him susceptible to manipulation by those who can stir his buried guilt and pride.

🌠 Key Moments in Azrakiel's Journey:

The Fall: Azrakiel's decision to join Lucifer's rebellion, leading to his transformation into Asmodeus.

The Abyssal Pact: Establishing dominion over the Abyssal Realm and consolidating his power among demons.

Creation of Bianca: Forcing Seraphine into bearing Bianca, aiming to use her as a vessel for his grand design.

The Kilonova Plot: Orchestrating events to push Bianca towards triggering the kilonova that would reset Creation. She is rejecting this but eventually does but with Sephiroth, instead.

🌟 Themes:

Power and Corruption

Free Will vs. Control

Redemption and Hubris

Fatherhood and Manipulation

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @acursedduty @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon

[sgiandubh]

If they followed the books they'd be more frisky 🤡

But obviously some of it can't be translated into tv......

Dear Frisky Anon,

You should have discussed it with a real Gabaldon Expert like @gotham-ruaidh, not with Phoney here, who still fumbles around The Fiery Cross. So, I think you will have to ask me once I am done with Bees, which I bet will be just in time for the second half of Season 7 to kick in. I am told J&C do not have any problems in that department until the very end of it, and well, what can I say, it's Herself's prerogative to portray as she sees fit a legendary, all-encompassing love story as the one she magically created out of thin air (all writing is magic, trust me).

Never mind. Your question made me think, just as I was preparing the lazy dinner for 1 (Baby the Retriever is gone until Tuesday evening), about a couple of things, dealing with adapting content to the screen and also about how our minds deal with the difference between a book and the movie/series based on that book.

Adapting Gabaldon is a very difficult task. Take for example The Fiery Cross' never-ending Gathering. My God, all those words to describe just 24 hours! I have just finished with that unfortunate thief and I am so dizzy with it, I can't even remember if they had breakfast yet. The only solution they had was to go off canon and invent something at The Ridge, because it would have taken forever and hey, it's all about a healthy costs/benefits ratio, too. And mark me: Herself is no Marcel Proust, able to make us dream for hours about his description of Vermeer's View of Delft, somewhere In Search of Lost Time. FYI, I had to wait, as millions before me, until I fucked my meniscus skiing (or attempting to snow plough, to be honest) to discover Proust, but never looked back. Also FYI, Luchino Visconti tried to make a film out of Proust's voluminous saga, but failed. Nina Companeez managed (2011) a very, very poor TV series: unwatchable, and I tried. It is unfeasible - so, overall, I think the series scriptwriters' team did a very good job slaloming between botanical babble, Appalachian folklore, the White Sow and yes, J&C getting frisky.

But the thing I wanted to tell you (so long for distributive attention, I've just burnt my baguette and chicken and will have to start it over again) is just how different the experience of reading something and watching the same thing being translated on screen is. I am obviously no neuroscientist, but I am an avid and normally a quick reader. When you read something, you are at once completely spellbound and totally free: you are taken with the characters' interaction, but you are the master of your course imagining them. You placate your own vision of the world on what you read and, at the same time, you are being overtly manipulated by the storyteller: how this can be is, for sure, a mystery. When you watch an adaptation of what you once read, half of the work is being already done for you: you don't have to imagine these people interacting, they are walking and talking in front of you and then, you focus on other things. It's all about the energy they manage (or not) to convey: acting is, in a fair measure, akin to channeling that energy.

As far as I can tell, the scriptwriters opted for a more subdued approach to Jamie, Claire, sex and old age. But can you say with absolute certainty we aren't collectively projecting our own fantasies on what is certainly Herself's very euphemistic, almost conservative way of writing sex scenes? Anais Nin, she ain't. Embraces and moments of - ahem - togetherness abound and we are left to our own devices to imagine things.

Thus, the horrendous and, to be honest, childish battle between the Book Purists' Crowd and the rest of this fandom. It apparently was dealt with pretty quickly, but it did manage to leave a nasty, long lasting legacy: the Book Boyfriend had to go on and remain a screen fantasy. That is wrong. That selfishness almost floundered the book adaptation project and I bet whatever you want me to bet it took deep feelings not to also compromise something else, money can't buy.

A long answer for a simple question. Make of it whatever you wish, Anon: I wrote it with pleasure, though. :)