#Ways to Apply Scenario Planning

[aria0fgold]

My headcanons for the named trio in The Cursing of Chateau Castle series:

Josephandre is a big bear. It just fits for him I think! He gets he/him pronouns, and as a way to make him a liiiil more relatable for Mira, he'd have two craft types (Rock type being his main one and paper craft for the other). Battle style wise, I think it fits him to be more of a self-sustaining tank. He buffs defense, heals, and puts up shields. For his weapon, he'd use his fists like Isabeau. He'll be the second fastest in the trio.

Lady Irene-Janine-Kanine looks like an elegant noblewoman on the outside but she has vibes similar to Euphrasie! She gets she/her pronouns. Her craft type is Paper. Battle style wise, she's more on the offensive side, a main dps kind of thing. Most of her skills focus on buffing attack and speed, she'd have an item that helps regen her hp a lil bit and her chosen weapon is an umbrella. The tip is a sharp blade so it's used like a spear that has a hidden sword in its handle. Open it, and it becomes a shield! That'd be one of her skills too, although it's only applicable to her. She's the fastest one of the trio.

Pierre-Jacques-Erneste looks like a nobleman and carries himself as such! He gets he/they pronouns. Their craft type is Scissors. Battle style wise, he's more of a debuffer, skills focusing on weakening the enemies, slowing them down, poisoning them. Their weapon is a sword dagger, though he doesn't seem to be able to handle it well, how clumsy! But he Is a nobleman so it makes sense! Oh but... why doesn't he have a title? They're the slowest one of the trio, how strange, he seemed to be faster than Lady Irene-Janine-Karine that one time though.

[thedupshadove]

Enough Cottagecore. I demand Shopkeepercore. Let me fantasize about running a charming little independent store in one of those 100+-year-old buildings with the little apartment on top. Quirky regulars, memorable one-off customers, other businesses on my street and the people who run them. Being part of hundreds or thousands of lives in large and small ways. Room for lots of different subtypes (what do you sell? How big a town/city do you live in? Where is it?) Setting my own schedule with no commute and clear signs of what my work accomplishes, but also there's stuff to do on the weekends.

[tearlessrain]

please help me- i used to be pretty smart but i’m having so much trouble grasping the concept of diegetic vs non-diegetic bdsm!

gfkjldghfd okay first of all I'm sorry for the confusion, if you're not finding anything on the phrase it's because I made it up and absolutely nobody but me ever uses it, but I haven't found a better way to express what I'm trying to say so I keep using it. but now you've given me an excuse to ramble on about some shit that is only relevant to me and my deeply inefficient way of talking and by god I'm going to take it.

SO. the way diegetic and non-diegetic are normally used is to talk about music and sound design in movies/tv shows. in case you aren't familiar with that concept, here's a rundown:

diegetic sound is sound that happens within the world of the movie/show and can be acknowledged by the characters, like a song playing on the stereo during a driving scene, or sung on stage in Phantom of the Opera. it's also most other sounds that happen in a movie, like the sounds of traffic in a city scene, or a thunderclap, or a marching band passing by. or one of the three stock horse sounds they use in every movie with a horse in it even though horses don't really vocalize much in real life, but that's beside the point, the horse is supposed to be actually making that noise within the movie's world and the characters can hear it whinnying.

non-diegetic sound is any sound that doesn't exist in the world of the movie/show and can't be perceived by the characters. this includes things like laugh tracks and most soundtrack music. when Duel of Fates plays in Star Wars during the lightsaber fight for dramatic effect, that's non-diegetic. it exists to the audience, but the characters don't know their fight is being backed by sick ass music and, sadly, can't hear it.

the lines can get blurry between the two, you've probably seen the film trope where the clearly non-diegetic music in the title sequence fades out to the same music, now diegetic and playing from the character's car stereo. and then there are things like Phantom of the Opera as mentioned above, where the soundtrack is also part of the plot, but Phantom of the Opera does also have segments of non-diegetic music: the Phantom probably does not have an entire orchestra and some guy with an electric guitar hiding down in his sewer just waiting for someone to break into song, but both of those show up in the songs they sing down there.

now, on to how I apply this to bdsm in fiction.

if I'm referring to diegetic bdsm what I mean is that the bdsm is acknowledged for what it is in-world. the characters themselves are roleplaying whatever scenarios their scenes involve and are operating with knowledge of real life rules/safety practices. if there's cnc depicted, it will be apparent at some point, usually right away, that both characters actually are fully consenting and it's all just a planned scene, and you'll often see on-screen negotiation and aftercare, and elements of the story may involve the kink community wherever the characters are. Love and Leashes is a great example of this, 50 Shades and Bonding are terrible examples of this, but they all feature characters that know they're doing bdsm and are intentional about it.

if I'm talking about non-diegetic bdsm, I'm referring to a story that portrays certain kinks without the direct acknowledgement that the characters are doing bdsm. this would be something like Captive Prince, or Phantom of the Opera again, or the vast majority of bodice ripper type stories where an innocent woman is kidnapped by a pirate king or something and totally doesn't want to be ravished but then it turns out he's so cool and sexy and good at ravishing that she decides she's into it and becomes his pirate consort or whatever it is that happens at the end of those books. the characters don't know they're playing out a cnc or D/s fantasy, and in-universe it's often straight up noncon or dubcon rather than cnc at all. the thing about entirely non-diegetic bdsm is that it's almost always Problematic™ in some way if you're not willing to meet the story where it's at, but as long as you're not judging it by the standards of diegetic bdsm, it's just providing the reader the same thing that a partner in a scene would: the illusion of whatever risk or taboo floats your boat, sometimes to extremes that can't be replicated in real life due to safety, practicality, physics, the law, vampires not being real, etc. it's consensual by default because it's already pretend; the characters are vehicles for the story and not actually people who can be hurt, and the reader chose to pick up the book and is aware that nothing in it is real, so it's all good.

this difference is where people tend to get hung up in the discourse, from what I've observed. which is why I started using this phrasing, because I think it's very crucial to be able to differentiate which one you're talking about if you try to have a conversation with someone about the portrayal of bdsm in media. it would also, frankly, be useful for tagging, because sometimes when you're in the mood for non-diegetic bodice ripper shit you'd call the police over in real life, it can get really annoying to read paragraphs of negotiation and check-ins that break the illusion of the scene and so on, and the opposite can be jarring too.

it's very possible to blur these together the same way Phantom of the Opera blurs its diegetic and non-diegetic music as well. this leaves you even more open to being misunderstood by people reading in bad faith, but it can also be really fun to play with. @not-poignant writes fantastic fanfic, novels, and original serials on ao3 that pull this off really well, if you're okay with some dark shit in your fiction I would highly recommend their work. some of it does get really fucking dark in places though, just like. be advised. read the tags and all that.

but yeah, spontaneous writer plug aside, that's what I mean.

[thundertide-a]

By all technicalities under Snezhnayan law, Kagota is a married woman - Married, that is, to her best friend, Childe of the Harbingers. According to the laws of their homeland, living as they have is a secondary means to marriage; a means for her Fatui to attain such a thing if desired, the Tsaritsa enacted laws stating that should a couple live together for an extended period of time, sharing bills, a life, and the responsibilites that come with being a married couple yet not outright stating they’re anything but interested in such a thing, they become eligible to simply sign papers at the end of that period, a Snezhnayan version of a quick courthouse wedding.

However, while this was created to allow her soldiers a family if they so chose without getting in the way of their duties, the Tsaritsa understanding eloping isn’t always an option, nor are weddings when money and time could be tight with her plans in motion, not all are aware such an option exists. In Kagota’s case, it was something easily slipped into with Childe when they were but 16; unaware of the laws in place, they’ve been contently fulfilling the criteria laid out for nearly six years - two past the minimum time needed.

With their bond as close as it is, paperwork was signed on a discussion, marking them as legally married under Snezhnayan law. Despite this, it’s seen to them as just a title; it’s reassurance that should something happen to one, the other will be cared for and covered, able to take advantage of any benefits granted to the family of a fallen soldier in the Fatui. It’s not something often mentioned or flaunted, and like their relationship and bond overall, is more hidden to avoid trouble for either side.

[kisakis-boyfriend]

They have a wet dream in your lap - Genshin Impact pt. 1

Pairings: Scaramouche/Wanderer, Xiao, Venti, and Aether x reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, somnophilia, clothed humping/grinding

Genre/Format: Smut; Scenarios

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

After a long day spent adventuring and completing commissions, you and your companion set up camp for the night. Opting for a secluded spot inside of a cave, the two of you cooked dinner together and chatted about your day and the plans for tomorrow. It was a particularly chilly night, even within the shelter of the cave and a small campfire you had cobbled together to keep you both warm, so your companion decided to cuddle up to you and fall asleep sitting in your lap

You didn't really mind, it had been a long day and snuggling up together would keep you warm throughout the night. Though when they began to stir in their sleep, you truly didn't expect what would come next....

He was sleeping peacefully, a rare occurrence seeing as he didn't actually need to sleep the way humans do, when soft moans began leaving his lips. Wanderer was now squirming in your lap, grasping at the hand wrapped around his waist. Was he having a nightmare? You knew he was prone to those rather frequently...

The way his thighs squeezed together and the whine that filled the cave made you realize that this wasn't a nightmare... He was definitely having a wet dream, and with the way his ass grinded against you, you were quickly becoming aroused too

You tested the waters by placing a hand on his thigh, his head pressed back against your shoulder and he gasped in his sleep. Your hand trailed upwards until you brushed over his clothed cock, already semi-hard and dribbling a bit of precum, twitching from the tiny bit of contact

Wanderer humped at the hand that was now cupping his erection, applying just enough pressure to satisfy his needs. He continued rutting against you and you lifted your hips slightly, just to feel a bit of friction and press your own member against his ass

His thrusts sped up as he neared his climax, his breath tickling your skin as he released sweet moans into the crook of your neck. You hummed in satisfaction when you felt the growing wet spot from his orgasm, his muscles going slack as he relaxed against you once more

-

Xiao didn't like to sleep, preferring to watch over you all night while you get ample sleep. Tonight, however, you managed to convince him to rest with you. His back pressed against your chest, sitting between your legs while you leaned against the wall, you began to doze off once you were sure he had fallen asleep

You pressed your lips against his neck, leaving a few kisses and nuzzling closer, the soft gasp that left him next caught you off guard. You pressed another kiss to a particularly sensitive spot on his neck and Xiao suddenly moaned out your name

Considering how your darling yaksha usually ended up having terrible nightmares, you figured you would try to help him have a pleasant one for once. He whined when you began sucking on his neck, leaving marks on all of his sweet spots. Your hand slipped in his pants, quickly finding his arousal and palming him over his underwear

Xiao's hips bucked into your every touch, chasing every instance of contact in order to bring himself closer to orgasm. You pushed his underwear to the side and started rubbing him faster, massaging the head of his cock with your palm and using his precum as lube, creating lewd wet sounds as you jerked him off

Xiao cried out your name as he came all over your hand, his cum leaving a wet mess inside of his pants

-

The rain poured down, lulling the archon in your arms to sleep rather quickly. Venti had made himself comfortable in your lap, straddling your thighs and hugging you close, burying his face in your neck before dozing off. The sound of raindrops hitting the ground outside put you in a sort of trance, only breaking out of it when you felt Venti shift in your lap

It sounded like he whined in his sleep, but you weren't too sure since it was muffled. Then he shifted again, wiggling his hips and clutching your shirt tighter. Another whine escaped him, and you were sure that's what it was this time. He seemed restless, wiggling around more and more, rubbing his face against you like a cat

You whispered his name, your breath fanning against the shell of his ear, ��Hey, Venti? Honey? ” That's when he suddenly thrust his hips forward, gasping at the friction. You were a bit taken aback by all of this, though still turned on nonetheless

How could you not be when your darling was making such sweet noises and humping you in his sleep? You couldn't just let him suffer like this. So your hands slid down his back until they reached his soft ass and squeezed, pushing him further against your clothed member

Venti instinctually began grinding against you, continuing to moan as you dry humped him back. The friction eventually tipped him over the edge, crying out your name as he spilled all over himself, your own orgasm following soon after. You were definitely going to tease him about this when he wakes up

-

Camping with him was a regular occurrence, you were traveling across seven nations with him, after all. Aether cozying up in your lap wasn't surprising either, the days were long and tiring and given how much you two had seen together, most nights he just wanted to collapse against you and drift away for a while

You held him close, arms cradled around his sleeping form and his head resting on your chest. He remained relatively still for several minutes, then he started squirming a bit, sighing and nuzzling his face into your chest. You rubbed his arm reassuringly, hoping that he wasn't about to have another nightmare about his sister

Aether's sighs slowly turned into what sounded like... moaning? Soft moans paired with his thighs squeezing together as he continued to stir in his sleep. It dawned on you that this might not be a nightmare... The sound of him calling your name drew your attention to his face, scrunched up in frustration

Aether grasped at your shirt, his hips bucking at the air. You took the unconscious hint and placed a hand in between his legs, he was already hard. He thrust into your touch, even with the layer of clothing dulling the sensation of your hand on him, he still cried out for you. You moved your hand along the outline of his dick, jerking him off as best as you could in this position

Your pace increased until Aether's hips stuttered forward, keening as he made a mess of his pants, your harsh stroking ceased and allowed him to go slack. You chuckled at how cute he was, desperate for relief even in his sleep. Kissing the top of his head, you adjusted yourself before squeezing him closer and drifting off to sleep

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

[strwberri-milk]

hello! may i request for a scenario where the LADS boys confessed to the reader for the first time? if you don’t feel like doing all 3,you can just choose whichever one you want to do for ^^

Zayne is nervous. He isn't often nervous like this, not even when he was applying to medical school. Whenever he does things in his life he's always sure that no matter what he does he prepares for it to guarantee the result that he wants. However, when it comes to you he can never quite predict what he'll do around you no matter how much he tries.

He tries to plan a casual day out. He doesn't want to make it seem too out of the ordinary, worried that he'd make things too awkward if they don't go well. To him, it'd be better if the day was an average one so it wouldn't stick out too much if you rejected him.

To him, he doesn't know if you'd ever look at him as more than your friend. He feels like you've far passed the point of ever seeing him as a romantic companion and he was just lucky enough to see you as often as he currently does. He's more than fine existing in this simple life with you for as long as you'll let him.

He confesses his feelings to you over a cup of coffee. It's perfect to him. You've got the flush of laughter on your cheeks, wiping a tear away as you reminisce about a story from your shared childhood. You've never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment, talking about something silly he did and how you're so glad the two of you are still friends.

Without thinking he puts his palm up towards you on the table, not insisting you take his hand but simply offering it when you notice it there. His voice is soft, confession simple but sweet as he tells you that he's loved you from the moment the two of you met. He reassures you that if you reject him nothing will change but he doesn't expect to see you tear up and nod yes so aggressively he's worried he might have to check you for a neck injury.

He barely processes your arms wrapping around his shoulders, hugging him tightly to you as you confess that you've felt the same way for so long. Instinctually his arms wrap around your waist, trying to help you feel comfortable as he thanks you for returning his feelings for him. The two of you spend the rest of the day planning your first real date, fingers tightly intertwined as you both smile softly at each other.

The two of you were just having a casual game night at Xavier's. This was a common occurrence between the two of you and you loved it. Spending time with Xavier in a casual manner was a great way to just forget about the stress of the day. All his furniture was also incredibly comfortable which meant you always found yourself fighting against falling asleep.

It happens to be one of those times, your eyes fluttering shut as Xavier offers you a warm drink. You playfully groan at him, telling him that he's just trying to keep you for the night by enticing you with his fluffy pillows and tasty drinks. He stills for a second before asking if it'd be so bad. He wouldn't mind you spending the night if you wanted to.

You roll your eyes, knowing that you've already crashed in his room once or twice after being too exhausted to make the trek to your floor above his. However, he decides that this is a great opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You look so perfect like this to him, wrapped up and cozy on his couch. He has the sudden urge to make this more permanent, ask you to come and go as you please because knowing that you can be in his space at any time makes him happy.

He wants nothing more than to share his space with you, be able to spend all his spare time with him in quiet, domestic ways. He'll try to make you something to replenish your energy after a long day of work, you'd thank him for trying as hard as he did to make something, then he'd try to tell you not to force yourself to eat it all because he knows he didn't do the greatest job cooking it all.

He kneels down next to you on the couch, gently resting his cheek on your thigh. You look down at him in confusion, not wanting to move too much in case you scare him off. There's something about the resolute look in his eye that makes you take pause, nodding subtly to tell him to tell you whatever it is that he seems to want to tell you.

His confession is simple and to the point. He just tells you that he has feelings for you and he hopes you feel the same way. He doesn't say anything afterwards, simply just waiting for you to say something in response. You're at a loss for words, not sure what to say to him but the gentle touch of your palm against his cheek is confirmation enough for him for now.

Rafayel doesn't really know what to do now that he's decided that he needs to confess to you. He knows that his feelings for you are intense and almost all consuming, his mind constantly on you and his hands always itching to create something in your likeness or something that he thinks you'd like.

Painting is something that comes easier to him than words. He doesn't know how he'd want to confess his feelings for you. Nothing feels like it's the right way to do it - all of it is just...not enough for him. He can't accurately portray the depth of his feelings for you in such a simple manner.

You find him agonising on the floor, staring up at his ceiling with a notebook. You thought that it'd be nice to surprise him, knowing that Rafayel was upset that you were a little too busy to make it over to his place that night. Thankfully, you got out of work early and thought that it'd be fun to visit him regardless. You punch in the key code and easily make it to where he is clearly lamenting, wanting to see if you could decipher the reasoning by reading through the notebook by his head.

He immediately snatches it out of your hand, sitting straight up and pouting at you. You know that when he's like this there's nothing you can do to change his mind from whatever tantrum he's decided to throw. You decide to simply just sit next to him, waiting until he divulges whatever it is that has his mind spinning this time.

You don't expect him to immediately blame you, expecting the typical light hearted insults he throws your way. Your eyes widen in surprise when he starts flipping through the book, quietly humming to himself as he seems to be selecting something. It doesn't take him long to decide that he's frustrated with whatever it contains, rolling his eyes and giving you a cheeky smile.

He tells you that you should let him take you out a romantic dinner so he can tell you how much he cares about you. He just needs a bit of extra time to figure out how he's going to properly going to convey his feelings. You continue to stare at him, not sure what to make of his words but the slight anxiety in his eyes and shaky hands lets you know that he's being serious.

You nod gratefully, smiling at him and telling him how much you'd like it. He definitely goes all out, planning a perfect dinner that's tailored to your tastes at a place where the menu doesn't have a price. The second the two of you are seated he spins a story about how much he loves you and that his life would never be complete without you - you are his muse and he's never been more inspired than when the two of you are together.

He loves the colour that your cheeks flush, memorising the colour to recreate later. When you let him press a kiss to your knuckles and nod shyly he beams at you, promising himself in that instant that he'll make himself worth your love.

[lightlycareless]

Hiii, can i request a scenario on how naoya (when he has reached a point where he loves wife!reader from an arranged marriage) would react to one day not being greeted at all when he comes home? It is completely silent, no response as he calls for her and is getting a bit worried as he starts searching the rooms. But then he sees her laying on the couch, shivering and sweating from a cold that’s so intense she’s barely lucid and can’t even tell he’s there and talking to her

Heya!!

So... I took some liberties when writing this, kind of went a completely different route (the sick part, alongside worried Naoya still remains though), it just occurred to me when reading your ask, but I hope it's still of your liking 🥺!!!

anyways, here are the warnings: mentions of death, miscarriage, a very concerned and overprotective Naoya, a bit of fluff, and everyone wants to spoil you rotten lol.

And without further ado, happy reading!

“Y/N, I’m home!”

Home.

A word he never really cared for, always considering it sappy, alongside the fondness that was usually assigned to it, which Naoya couldn’t think of as nothing but ridiculous, if not hilariously overrated.

For many years, Naoya thought that a home was simply the place that one was raised in and that’s about it. Nothing of the sentimentality others liked to apply to it, brag about it…

Until, of course, he finally came to understand what the word meant; why it was so special, and why it was important to have one.

A home wasn’t made by the people he knew as family, blood related, found in the place he was forced to be in since he was born, and probably die in—no; it’s the one that was made by the people of his choice, people he met through his course of life, connected with, and now, cherished.

Amongst them, you.

He considered himself lucky to have found the love of his life, a concept he considered so… foreign, impossible for someone like him, if not a stupidity of delusional people desiring more from life.

So was Naoya destined to think for the rest of his existence, condemned by his same family to live a life of loneliness, hatred, and die the same way.

But you’d come to show him otherwise, shockingly, and unexpectedly, and in such a way he couldn’t even put up a fight, completely surrendering to you and the wonderful feelings that being in love with you provided.

Now that he’s experienced them, he couldn’t find the reason as to why his family would ever reproach such beautiful thing as harshly as they did—or that he believed them in the first place…

Well, that’s not something that bothers him anymore; the Zen’in clan could continue on in their hard stuck ways for all he cared; he, on the other hand, plans to spend the rest of his days alongside the woman of his dreams, starting by today, finally back in your arms after days of being pulled into pointless missions after pointless missions, which he would not hear of for a few weeks—having earned a well-deserved break for his consistently good performance.

Naoya even prepared accordingly for the occasion, having bought gifts from all the places he’d been to, as well as ideated ways to distract you from the boring estate and his nagging relatives he knows you don’t enjoy being around with, only tolerating them because they were, well, your in-laws, his family—with exceptions of those you do get along, and for them, he’s grateful that they do.

Ah, he couldn’t wait to see you, your face, and the adorable way it brightens up whenever receiving him.

To tell you of his day while resting his head on your lap, with you passing your fingers through his hair, gently soothing his stresses away as you reassure him that he’s the best sorcerer out there, he’s just… unlucky to bump into lesser talented ones.

Get something to eat too, he’d like his favorite for a start, miso soup—and perhaps have you feed it to him? God, it’s been a while since both have done that, and it’s not because he doesn’t like doing it, or you for that matter, but rather, he doesn’t want to risk being seen by others, it has to be in the utmost privacy, after all! He isn’t to be vulnerable in front of his family!!

Oh, he needs wishes to see you—right now. And he’s absolutely sure you’re feeling the same way…

If so… why hadn’t you responded? Why hadn’t you come to receive him in the same manner you’ve always done?

Naoya knows that his schedule can be a bit… unpredictable, making it difficult for you to know exactly when he’ll come back home—but even then, it didn’t take you that long to meet him after announcing his return.

You’d always come to the entrance, no matter if it happened right that moment, or a bit later; you just… did.

But today… it seems that you opted to break the routine by taking far longer than you usually do.

He’d remain attentive to his surroundings, hoping to either hear your approaching footsteps or voice softly calling for him at a distance, yet as time went on, he was received with neither…. And Naoya only begins to grow more worried.

Your husband tries to not jump to the worst conclusion just yet, opting to think that you were perhaps simply caught up tending to the house, maybe even partaking in an unwanted conversation with one of his relatives and having trouble brushing them off—for no matter the times you’d reminded them that your husband was back, and you needed to be there to receive him, still acted as if it wasn’t that important.

Things that implied that even when running late, you were still ok.

Yet…

“Y/N!” Naoya calls once again, hoping for a change…

…

…

…

Silence.

It’s by this time that he decides it’s better to search for you than to stand around and wait for you to magically appear.

Naoya begins by going into the main wing, eyes scanning through the gardens, your usual place of leisure when not busy, where you’d calmly enjoy the diligently tended for flowers (the ones he had changed to your favorite as soon as he found out which ones they were) while snacking on something, or in the company of your loyal staff—if that were the case of your absence, he understood why you didn’t answer.

But he wouldn’t find you near any of the gardens, or anywhere in fact! A statement that weighed even heavier upon finding out that the staff was in the same predicament as him, for when he asked a nearby servant of your whereabouts, he was received with the following answer:

“We haven’t seen her” Naoya’s heart sinks.

“What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” he breathes. “Where could my wife—did she—did she leave the estate?”

No. You… didn’t. Because that’s not what you told him you’d be doing a few hours ago, after letting you know he was on his way back home; if anything, you replied with how excited you were to see him again and that you’d be eagerly waiting for him!

So obviously, their words didn’t make sense. But if so… where were you?

Naoya now frantically searched for you through every wing, room, space, chamber, closet, just— anywhere, literally anywhere you could be while repeatedly calling out your name in hopes of getting a response, or even a glimpse of you; he doesn’t care what at that point, he’s happy with either!

Yet, the longer he went on without an answer, the bigger his sorrow became, to the point where his mind was machinating nothing but the worst-case scenarios, slowly losing his inhibitions as he repeatedly wondered Where were you? How come no one has seen you? Did he have to escalate this situation?

Just—Where are you, Y/N?!

Thankfully, there would be no need to pursue bigger solutions for he’d get his answer soon enough after entering the east wing, passing through the living quarters, and arriving to the laundry room, one of the last places he’d thought you’d be—rightfully guessing so, for you were there, apparently washing whatever garments you had pending, which you hadn’t been able to wash due to a variety of unknown reasons…

But far from feeling elated to have found you, Naoya felt as if whatever he had left of his heart was effectively broken, which felt short compared to the way he found you.

“Y/N!”

The sight that received him is one that will remain imprinted in the back of mind: you were laying on the floor, on your side, tightly clutching to your stomach as you breathed heavily, eyes tightly shut while groaning in what Naoya could only interpret as pain.

As if his worries weren’t through the roof at that point, this last conclusion is what urged Naoya to hastily make way to your side, swiftly kneeling to your level as he calls out for you once more.

“Y/N—Y/N” He’d breathe, firmly yet carefully placing his hands over you with intentions of picking you up, but his hold falters when his fingers briefly graze your skin, making him gasp in return. “Y/N you’re—you’re burning!”

This would be the only time you’d respond to him, barely able to move your head onto his direction, slightly opening your eyes to see him, a gaze that shows how much pain you were going through, barely able to understand what was going on, except for gently breathing the word that makes his heart squeeze out in pain.

“Na—Naoya…”

Any hesitation is effectively thrown out the window by that point, picking you up and rushing you towards their shared bedroom, all while barking orders to the nearby staff, demanding them to call for a doctor, as quickly as possible, unless they wanted to be jobless by the end of the day!

The staff reacts accordingly, and a few minutes later, the family doctor arrives to the estate, guided to your room and seeing that you were already being tended to, or at least that’s the idea he gets from the dampened towel on your forehead, undoubtedly in efforts of lowering your fever—which unfortunately, had been for nothing.

Well, he was there now, and he didn’t waste time either to get to work, quickly assessing your condition by the apparent symptoms, starting by your temperature, the color of your skin, and even the way you reacted to him while doing so, completely uncooperative—apparently, whatever put you in this state had evoked great instability from you, thus the doctor found it necessary to put you under sedatives.

But even when he was able to quickly gain control of the situation, the doctor still couldn’t arrive at a proper conclusion, less when the people around you had an even smaller idea of what struck you.

“I—I don’t know.” Naoya would respond, angrily, frustrated—and rightfully so. How come none of the servants had noticed your absence? Or worse, hadn’t seen anything that could hint as to what your sickness was about?! “Can’t you just—help her?!”

“That’s what I’m trying—I can’t help her if I don’t know what I’m dealing with.” The doctor responded as calmly as he could, but even he had to admit that everyone’s seeming ignorance annoyed him as well. “But I can still say that this seems much more than just a simple… sickness.”

“What do you mean?” Naoya frowns, the doctor looks at the nearby servants, tasked to be on stand-by if needed.

“I’d like to discuss this in private.” He tells them.

The servants don’t wait for Naoya to repeat the order before they’re already out the room and away from their earshot; a request that while didn’t raise any concerns from Naoya —if anything, he was glad their pesky, useless presence, was finally away from you— the doctor’s face was quick to convince your husband that something far worse than what met the eye.

And this made Naoya’s nerves reach a new limit.

“I told you; I don’t know what happened—” Your husband is quick to defend, believing the doctor was to interrogate him once more, only to be interrupted.

“You don’t need to tell me for me to know what happened.” He interjects, Naoya’s eyes widen.

“I’m lost.” Naoya scowls. “Stop talking cryptically and get on with it!”

“I’ve seen these symptoms before, Naoya. And as I said, these are not from a simple sickness, an allergy or any of the matter” He takes a deep breath. “I heavily suspect she was intoxicated—and not accidentally, but rather, intentionally.”

“Excuse me?” Naoya frowns.  “I told you to stop talking in riddles, say what you—”

“Poisoned, Naoya. I believe your wife was poisoned.”

Naoya’s world comes to a screeching halt.

You…

You were poisoned.

According to the doctor, you—You were attacked, besieged, with malicious intents.

Taken advantage of in the one place you’d never be on edge, your home, the same one he had repeatedly reassured your father that you’d be safe in—the Zen’in estate, home to the prestigious Zen’in clan! There was no safer place in the whole world! There couldn’t!

No one— no one wouldn’t dare do such a thing here—they knew better! Naoya would force them to now better…

Yet, someone dared to commit this transgression against you.

And to make it all worse….

Almost got away with it.

Who would even think of doing such transgression against you?! You?!

You had no quarrels with anyone, and even when you did, you handled things in such an amicable way just so you’d live peacefully, free of nonsensical arguments—you had no space for them in your life!

And yet, this still happened, and right underneath his nose….

There’s no doubt that he’ll put an investigation into order to find the bastard responsible for your suffering, and once he does, he’ll make him regret his existence, to the point he’ll have him begging for mercy—and even then, it wouldn’t be enough for Naoya.

However, that is something that will have to wait until he knows you’re safe, healthier, which the doctor had slowly began to help you with by giving you something that will immediately trap the poison from being further absorbed by your blood—activated charcoal, so he remembers— as well as some other prescriptions for side effects he wishes to prevent.

“Your wife was very lucky to survive, have you waited a second more—”

“I wasn’t waiting.” Your husband immediately responds, offended by his wording. “I wasn’t aware of this until I returned.”

The doctor presses his lips together, taking notice that throughout his whole visit, Naoya has never left your side, nor freed your hands from his.

“And I’m not surprised.” He silently admits.

Naoya hates the notion the doctor was implying, that this was an inside job. But considering the odd behavior of the staff, their seeming ignorance of your location and your status… it all pointed to that same conclusion.

The boiling fury inside him grows bigger.

“How could this be?” Naoya seethes.

How could someone get this far, this close to you, and no one suspecting a thing?

Your husband might’ve reproached the way the doctor expressed himself, but there was an undeniable truth behind them; he truly was lucky to have gotten back home just when he did, for had he taken a second longer, just one, you could’ve die—

Outside of that, the second most important question regarding this whole situation was…where was your staff? Why, of all days, were they absent?

Naoya is confident that if Mariya, your closest confidant, had been around, this would’ve never happened in the first place; the moment she saw anything out of the ordinary, she would’ve pulled all the stops and acted accordingly.

Yet, she was nowhere to be seen, and this makes Naoya both highly suspicious, and furious.

Where was she?  Where are the rest? Why would they leave you in your most needed time? Did they plan this? Plot against you?! Where the hell could they possibly—

“They’re going to be away for the weekend to visit their families.”

He suddenly remembers; you told him so earlier that week through a text.

“Will you be ok?” Naoya also remembers asking; he didn’t feel happy knowing you’d be alone without your most trusted staff.

“It’s just a few days, Naoya. Besides, they deserve a break! I don’t want them to get tired of me, you know?”  you laugh. “But you better come back quickly, ok? Just because they’re not around doesn’t mean I like being alone…”

“I won’t take long. I promise.”

If only he’d kept his word…

Well, if that was to be the answer to their absence, then it wasn’t fair to hold any level of animosity towards them, a weight being lifted from his burdened shoulders upon realizing your staff could strill be trusted in.  

Now all that was left to worry about is finding the culprit… and the status of that too.

“Is she ok?” Naoya would ask.

“She is, I managed to—”

“No, I mean… that.” Naoya’s voice hints to a silent agreement between the two. “Is… that ok?”

The doctor quickly catches what he means, affirming so by a nod. His reassurance lifts an immeasurable weight from his heart, even greater than the alleged betrayal of Mariya and the rest. One less thing to worry about.

“What now, then?”

“Since the damage was limited, to say the least, it won’t be necessary to move her to a hospital, however—”

She’s still in danger. Naoya concludes. More so if the attack came from someone inside… And what makes him think that just because he’s back they’ll stop trying?

If anything, seeing how close they got, they could try once again!

The mere thought is enough to push him into taking what is perhaps the most radical decision he could’ve taken in this situation, something that might come to torment him in the future, but until then, he won’t care, not even a bit; not when he had your safety to worry about:

That is… Naoya fired everyone, effective immediately.

He took no heed if any of them had been serving the family for years, if they were close friends of his father, or if their livelihood would be affected— Naoya just wanted them out of his sight, the estate, and as soon as possible, less they wanted to receive more of his anger, before continuing with the rest of his plan.

Due to the gravity of said situation, Naoya knew he had to contact your family; he also knew that you would’ve refuted the idea as soon as he mentioned it to you, not wanting to worry them if you’ve truly been attacked, but he couldn’t do this to your father; not when he was amongst the few people in the world he knew had your wellbeing as utmost priority— as well as holding a great amount of respect and appreciation for him, specifically for the way he welcomed him into your family.

Eiichi, your father, had to admit that getting a call from the Zen’in estate that didn’t come from you surely surprised him beyond any comprehension, and yet, that would be nothing compared to the shock he’d get upon knowing the motive behind said call; Naoya swore he almost heard your father passing out, or at least, in the process of.

“Poisoned?!”  Eiichi gasped, tightly clutching onto the phone—he might’ve as well passed out and dived into a nightmare! “Is she ok?! Where is she right now?”

“At the estate, with me—the doctor didn’t think it necessary for her to be hospitalized since he was able to stop the poison from spreading any further, but she still needs rest.”

“And the baby?”  the referenced secret between Naoya and the doctor; your pregnancy.

“Fine.” He breathes, swallowing. “The doctor didn’t tell me of any damage done to the baby…  but I’m—I’m still taking her to the doctor, just—just to be sure.”

“How could this happen?” Eiichi laments, heart breaking not only for you, but for Naoya as well. Your father knew all too well what it was to lose the love of his life, a pain that he would never desire on anyone, not even his own enemies…

One that he could slowly begin to hear in Naoya’s voice; oh, he could only imagine the pain he was going through, or what waited for him if he had lost not only you, but his child too.

But, well, the worst is over… at least for now.

“Someone from the staff did it.” Naoya declares, Eiichi’s heart sinks even further. “But I’ve taken care of it, I’ve fired everyone.”

And your father, contrary to Naoya’s relatives, did not question him. If anything, he seconded his decision, because had he been in your husband’s shoes, he would’ve done the same thing.

“Was her staff involved?” Your father asks, feeling a slight… anger with the idea that the ones you greatly cherished could’ve plotted against you.

“No, they were not; in fact, they were out of the estate when all this went down.” Naoya responds. “But I know that if they had been here, this would’ve never happened in the first place.”

“Bring her here, with me.” Eiichi immediately suggested, Naoya blinks, startled by the idea, if not against it.

“Father—"

“We can take care of her while she’s recuperating, take her to the doctor too. I’ll make sure that she has everything she needs. And not to misjudge your staff, or lack of, but the people here would never hurt her—they’ve known her since she was a child! There won’t be another safer place for her to be than here, Naoya. At least…  until she’s better.”

Previously, Naoya would’ve questioned the veracity of his words, done all he could to prove you were much better with him, but after this occurrence… he had to agree.

As much as it hurt him to know you’d be away from him, especially when you were pregnant… he knew this was the right decision to make. He couldn’t expose you to another similar situation—not even if he got a completely new staff… or if you didn’t want to leave.

So, Naoya accepts Eiichi’s suggestion, alongside buying him a ticket for the earliest available flight to Kyoto; a few hours later, your father would arrive to the estate, rushing to your side, keeping you company while tending to your every need as Naoya prepared everything for your departure.

When you eventually regained consciousness, you were (although a bit surprised) overwhelmingly elated to see your father visiting you, for it had been so long since you’d seen him, probably around the time you announced your pregnancy!

However, that excitement would soon diminish when Naoya told you why he was there… alongside the cryptic explanation of your “sickness.”

“It was an allergy.” Naoya would say, not wanting to stress you by the fact that you were intentionally poisoned, although that excuse did little to stop you from doing so. “Rare, but it can happen, especially with pregnant women.”

“An allergy…? But I didn’t…” you frown.

“It happened to your mother, once.” Eiichi followed Naoya’s lead. He hated lying to you, but… he concurred that keeping you safe, both mentally and physically, was worth doing so. “It’s nothing but hormonal changes, so don’t worry much about it.”

“I guess…” you frown, pressing your lips. “But that still doesn’t explain why I have to leave.”

“We need to check what caused your allergy” Naoya responds. “It might be something about the food, the flowers, or even the wood; I rather you be safe than to go through that scare again.”

“But is… all this really necessary?” Naoya gives you a tight smile and a nod. “Naoya, I—"

“It’s not all bad, Y/N.” Naoya says.

“Besides, don’t you want to spend time with your papa? It’s been so long since I’ve spent time with my adorable pumpkin!” Eiichi laments.

“Dad!” you gasp, flustered by his words. “Don’t—don’t say that in front of Naoya…”

“What? It’s true! And that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since I learned I’m going to be a grandfather!”

“Stop it!” your face becomes redder. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Naoya chuckles; it’s not like he’s seen you in… worse situations. Or better?

“But… I guess a visit is overdue.” You eventually concede, Naoya and your father sigh out of relief. “Though what about Mariya, Haruko, and Hitomi?”

“They’ll go with you, if you want.” Naoya says; he doubts they’ll say no, especially after knowing of the whole fiasco that occurred when away, might even offer themselves before he suggests the idea.

“If I didn’t know any better, sounds like you want me gone.” You jest, Naoya frowns. “It’s a joke, of course…”

“There’s nothing more I would like than you staying here, but until we figure out what caused that reaction from you, I’d rather not risk it.”

“It’s only temporary, Y/N. Besides, look—I brought you gifts!” Eiichi says, taking out the bag he brought from home seemingly out of nowhere, filled with things he knew you’d love, such as sweets, your favorite mochi’s of course, alongside some plushies that would always brighten your day when you were a child. “And there’s much more back home…”

Naoya can’t help but feel relieved you had your father for support, but at the same time, a bit jealous and, well, threatened. Not for bad reasons, of course, it was simply because how the hell did he not think of bringing you gifts first?!

“Dad… you’re embarrassing me in front of Naoya.”

“Ah, that’s a parent’s bane, isn’t it? To always embarrass their children—you’ll see what I mean when you both have your baby.”

Perhaps the main reason why you ended up agreeing to leave was because your pregnancy did not seem affected by your supposed allergy; had it been you would’ve refused to leave your husband’s side!

… Well, you still would’ve refused either way, but perhaps a bit more. You hate the idea of being away from the father of your child for too long, after all.

“I don’t think so—Naoya and I are going to be the cool parents, you’ll see.”

“That’s what your mom and I thought, and look at me now, can’t even say anything without you telling me I’m embarrassing you!” Eiichi says, you chuckle.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, mom was cool! You were always the funny one!”

Naoya smiles.

Now he knows for sure that there’s no safer place for you to be in than with your family, even if that were to be on the other side of the country…

After Naoya prepared everything for your departure, the three eventually made way to the exit, where you and your father would bid their last goodbyes.

“Won’t you accompany me?” you ask, a slight pout on your face, he smiles in hopes to cheer you up, but really, he felt miserable.

“I want to, but I can’t.” He explains. “I have to deal with this as fast as possible if you’re to come back quickly.”

“… Will you visit me over there, at least?” you frown.

“Yes. As soon as I have a chance, I’ll go see you.” Naoya promises.

It had all been too soon, just a few hours ago he arrived at the estate, and now, you’re leaving. Naoya laments that he couldn’t spend a day with you before your departure… but he guesses this to be a rightful sacrifice for your well-being.

“I wouldn’t dream of keeping away from my wife and baby for too long.”

At those words, Eiichi couldn’t help but frown out of sorrow.

It wasn’t fair that neither of you had been able to enjoy this wonderful occasion as you should.

He still remembers the excitement in your voice, the glint in your eye, and the beaming smile on your lips when announcing your pregnancy—alongside the nerves that came with it, of course, which Eiichi eased by reminding you and Naoya that their enthusiasm was nothing but indicative they were already on their way of becoming the loving and supportive parents their baby needed.

But as excited as both were, Eiichi had to cruelly put a stop to their celebrations, especially after Naobito was made aware of this, who wished to proceed by announcing the news to the whole community.

“I have to disagree, Naobito.” Eiichi would be the first to reject the idea, much to everyone’s surprise—yours, specifically.

“And why is that?” He’d ask back, not understanding why the father of the expecting mother, of all people, would be the one to reject so.

“It’s best if Y/N keeps her pregnancy a secret, at least… until it’s undeniably noticeable.”

“But… why, dad?” you asked. This was a moment of absolute joy, to be treated as such! So why did he intend to keep it a secret? Was he… disappointed?

No. Never. He was nothing but happy to see you happy and become a grandfather himself for the first time in his life!

But as a man of his years, he’s learned to be cautious of how said blessings are to be celebrated, as well as seen his fair share of happiness turn sour… things that Eiichi would rather take upon him than allow them to ever befall you.

“Because there’s people out there that might try to hurt you—or the baby.”  He’d explain. “Naobito cannot not deny this, but if anyone hears that you’re pregnant with the Zen’in heir’s baby, those that want to hurt the Zen’in clan, or our family, will see this as the perfect opportunity to do so.”

“I’d never allow such thing, rest assured, there’s no safer place than—” Naoya quickly interjects, wanting to reassure your father, but Eiichi was set on his warnings.

“I wouldn’t have said this if I didn’t see it myself.” Eiichi reminds him, Naoya swallows. “We live in a highly competitive world due to the nature of our families; I’ve lost my wife because of this! And I’d be damned to allow it to happen again to my daughter.”

He hated to remind you of the harsh truth; hated to see how your face would sadden, the excitement for your first child, his first grandchild, quickly disappearing…

“Why would someone do that?” you murmur, frowning.

“They wouldn’t dare—I’ll make sure of it.” Naoya hisses.

Eiichi remained silent, sad for you and your husband. Because even if you’ve experienced first-hand what it is to lose someone through these matters, both have yet to fully understand the extremes those supposedly loyal to them can go to if properly incited. Especially for someone who had so much to lose, just as the elite members of prestigious Zen’in clan.

Even then, your father would not allow such pain to reach you, not the same way it almost did to him and your mother, so, he insisted you keep these news secret from the world—and if you must, only if you must, reveal it to your most faithful ones; the rest could learn when your stomach was too big to deny.

If you do so, keep your baby hidden from the world, safe from those that harbor nothing but pain and sorrow… all will be fine. Eiichi promises so.

…

Or so, that’s what everyone hoped would’ve happened, because if there’s one thing to be learned from this incident, is that no matter how cautious you were, word of your pregnancy still managed to land in the wrong ears, and now, were actively against it.

The question no longer pertained as to how, but rather, who; who was the author of this terrible act?

The notion that someone of Naoya’s relatives, indirectly informed through Naobito’s… drunken rambles, soon crosses the minds of your father and husband. If so, it would make sense as to why they’d use an innocent staff member to do the deed, keep their hands clean of the whole situation, instead of going to bigger extremes.

It’s the most probable of the theories, but they could not annul the following: jealousy from the servants.

Naoya considered that statement to be the most delusional one your father could’ve gathered, but he’d be wise to remember how others perceive him—or more like what he represented. It wouldn’t be too far-fetched that others would desire what he had, or him, in some cases. And naturally, you’re an obstacle to that goal, your baby even more so…

It wasn’t fair, but it was your reality.

Nonetheless, Eiichi and Naoya will still do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

“It’s just for a few days, pumpkin.” Your father would say upon seeing the sadness in your face, which remained even when reassured that Naoya would be with you as soon as possible. “Besides, you’re going to see your brother and sister too—they’ve missed you very much, you know? They’ve been wanting to spoil you and their future niece, or nephew!”

You smile, it’s good that even when in the storm, your family is still able to exude happiness. You could only imagine how enthusiastic they’d be when the baby was finally here.

“I know… I missed them too.” You admit, before looking over to Naoya one last time. “Well… I hope that whatever is keeping you here is quickly dealt with.”

“You won’t even notice I’m gone.” Naoya promises, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything—before you know it, you’ll be back at the estate, with me.”

That’s a promise he unfortunately, doesn’t know if will become true inside the promised timeline, but will do anything in his power so it does.

Either way, it’s safe to say that Naoya did manage to keep one part of his promise—and that would be the one where he reassured you wouldn’t even notice his absence, done through sending you endless amounts of gifts, every day, effectively filling your room to the brim with all things he’d knew you’d like, and some for baby too: from clothes for you, to cute onesies he’d like his baby to wear when she was finally here.

“You still think the baby is going to be a girl?” you’d ask through one of the many videocalls he’d make—one daily, at the very least. “Wait a minute… you better not have spoiled me!”

“I just know” He reiterates with shrug; you roll your eyes. “If not, then I’ll have lots of things to return.”

“Well, if it’s worth anything, I also feel like our baby is going to be a girl.” You smile, warming up Naoya’s heart. “I can’t wait to meet her—I just know she’s going to have your eyes!”

“Or yours, I hope.” He longs, you blush. “Have you been eating well, my love?”

“Yes; and no allergies yet.” You explain, Naoya feels relieved—at least the problem didn’t follow you there. “Maybe I was just unlucky that day, Naoya… Are you sure I can’t return to the estate yet?”

“Not until I’m sure you’re going to be safe here.” Naoya responds, and while his words are meant to be comforting, you can’t shake off the sense that something worse happened; that something far bigger than a simple allergy had struck you, specially with the way your staff and family would act around you, going as far as denying you of any information pertaining to the Zen’in.

But… if your husband had a reason to not say anything now, then the best you could do is trust him. The truth will come out eventually, you suppose. So instead you could focus on other pressing matters.

“Well, at least don’t send me too many gifts.” You continued. “While I appreciate them, between you and my father, I don’t think my house has enough room to store all the things you’ve both given me.”

“Who’s given you more things? Me or your dad?” Naoya nonchalantly asks, you gasp.

“Naoya! That’s not the—take it seriously! Control yourself with the gifts, ok?” you say, he chuckles, but ends up agreeing; at least until the topic has quieted down, because there’s no way in hell he’s going to let your father win the upper hand like that one day ever again. “Or at least save them to when I’m back at the estate… which I hope is soon.”

“Almost there.” Naoya says. “Just a few more things, and we’ll be together once again.”

… even if the answer was to be the same, you still needed to ask.

“Is… everything ok?”

Not precisely, not when he has yet to find out the one responsible for all this…

But he’s gotten a lead, an idea of where to start, of who to hunt—which he knows he’ll find in record time thanks to the fury he harbors, further motivating him to do this as quickly and precisely as possible just so he’d have you back home, with him.

“Nothing you should worry about.” He reiterates. “Just keep focusing on your health, the baby, and not doing anything strenuous.”

“I’m just pregnant, Naoya… nothing extraordinary. I still want to help around., you know?”

“I know, and you’ll be able to do that and more in due time, but for now, keep safe, for me, ok? And our little mochi.”

“When will I see you again?” you ask again, hoping that perhaps this time around, the answer will be different.

“Soon.” He promises. “Soon, my love.”

Once he deals with the bastard that hurt you.

Naoya will give them nothing but a glimpse of the sorrow and pain they’d put you through, his fury—make their life a living hell, make them regret the foolish idea that they could ever get away from it; and still, he doesn’t think he’ll be satisfied with his revenge.

He’d want more, he’d want everyone to know that his family are not ones to mess around with.

He’d burn the whole world to set the message across if necessary—and that would only be the bare minimum for you, the love of his life, and now, his baby…

His home.

[internationem]

Just a reminder: intent is much, much more important to genocide than the amount of people dying. simply put, the amount of dead civilians isn't what makes a genocide a genocide.

for example, up to 33k bosnians are estimated to have died because of the bosnian genocide. in contrast, the estimated amount of japanese civilians dead during WWII is between 330k and 900k. yet most (serious) people wouldn't ever consider that there was a genocide against the japanese people. why? well, no government wanted to, planned or carried out systematic attacks with the intent of erasing, in whole or in part, the japanese people. yet, however, it is fairly easy to prove that the serbs wanted the bosnians gone and acted accordingly. You can even fullfill the material criteria for the Genocide Convention (ie killing people, or causing body or mental harm to a population) to a certain extent but if the intent behind those actions isn't to destroy a national/ethnic/etc group, then it's not genocide, the fullfilment of the material elements themselves aren't proof that there's a genocide without fullfilment of the mental element.

This isn't to overlook civilian deaths, but truth is, in modern warfare, civilians ARE gonna die, and that sucks massively, but we have a a whole branch of international law that help mitigate a lot of civilian deaths and allow for criminals to be held accountable for violation of civilian rights and livs, without having to erroneously call every single conflict where people die a genocide.

Similarly, it may be true that a lot more people are dying in the Israel-Gaza war than in the 7/10 attacks, but why did Hamas attack Israel in the first place? Why has Israel been attacked fairly frequently since it's independence? Because they want to completely erase Israel as a whole and expel (and kill, or best case scenario, convert) the jewish people out of the Middle East. This is very easy to prove, read Hamas founding charter and literally any history book that talks about wars against Israel or the expulsion of Jews from several ME countries. It's what the whole "from the river to the sea" slogan is about. It's also the very reason Israel needs to exist. But meanwhile, there's little to nothing that points out Israel wants to wipe out Palestinians as a group: 20% of their citizens are Palestinians who enjoy the same rights as Jewish citizens of Israel and aren't targeted, even Palestinians of the West Bank aren't usually targeted in a way that would even imply the IDF wants to erase them as a group, and even considering the Gaza campaign, its objective is to erradicate Hamas, not Palestinians, and nothing in Israel's policy outwardly implicates they want to erradicate all Gazans. Palestine, and especially Gaza, has massive population growth, which wouldn't make sense if there was a genocide campaign against them. This isn't to say the IDF is doing everything perfectly or that there aren't war crimes being commited. But war crimes don't mean genocide.

Calling what's happening in Gaza genocide is antisemitic, because not only are we applying different standards to Israel than we do any other country, we are also saying that Jewish people defending themselves is, inherently, a crime, one of the worst crimes defined at that. But it's also harmful to palestinians, because claiming that Israel's war against Hamas is a war against Palestinians equates Palestinians (many of whom just want to live regular lives, not war) with terrorists (who also target them, by the way), which seems islamophobic as hell if i'm being honest. it is also insensitive and damaging to every group that has been the victim of genocide, and every group which might be a victim of a genocide in the future, because how you're twisting the definition of the word to mean whatever you want it to mean. If everything is a genocide, nothing is.

[ssahotchnerr]

just saw this (https://www.tumblr.com/ssahotchnerr/732194441050374144/the-person-talking-about-their-dream-scenario) and it inspired something in me KATIE listen imagine during a pinning era with aaron and you ask him to hold a small mirror that you carry everywhere in case you need to fix your make up/ redo your lipstick!! while applying your lipstick your lips went 😗 and aaron trying so damn hard to keep it together he's just blushing due to the close proximity between the two of you i want need to kiss him so bad

unreservedly

no i need to kiss him cw; bau!reader, gn! but reader wears makeup, small suggestiveness, mutual pining and fluff <3

"hey," you picked up speed in your pace, weaving past some officers and allowing you to catch up with aaron a bit more quickly. "do me a favor?"

"well, it depends on the favor."

you shot him a playful, exasperated expression. "ha ha. if you don't mind," you held up a small compact mirror in one hand, your usual lip liner and lipstick combination in the other. "someone's in the bathroom, so i gotta go with plan b. and it's an emergency."

your sentence finished in a near whine - by now, aaron understood your sense of humor, and frequently bounced it right back at you - in case he needed any convincing (he didn't).

"sure, of course." with a gentle chuckle, aaron retrieved the mirror from you, opening such and holding it aloft, steady with his index finger and thumb.

"my hero," you teased and released a dramatized breath of relief, a delighted glint in your eyes.

first, you adjusted his hand a smidge - the brief skin to skin contact causing your heart to skip - alternating the position of the mirror as he was much taller than you. once you could perfectly see your small reflection peering back at you, did you uncap the lip liner and fall into immediate, firm concentration, lining the top edge of your lip.

as aaron stood there patiently, a nervousness trickled into him. he internally questioned whether or not you wanted him to, or were expecting, him to look away. would his unwanted attention possibly break your engrossment? or was it just, awkward? you applying your makeup, with him silently standing there. though, it didn't feel awkward - it felt rather comfortable, actually - but he could almost laugh at himself. this felt similarly like high school, running his mind and second guessing his actions.

but regardless of your preference, he couldn't pull his gaze away from you even if he tried.

the close proximity allowed him to admire you, and all your features, to his heart's content unreservedly, with zero holdback. for example, he never noticed the faintest of freckles scattered across the bridge of your nose, completely unknown to the plain eye. it filled him with a silly giddiness, something he would be embarrassed to admit aloud; noticing yet a new part of you, one others probably didn't have the knowledge of.

you secured the cap onto the lip liner, and aaron immediately offered his continued assistance, obtaining it with his free hand. you flashed him a bashful smile, before puckering your lips and beginning to apply your nude-pink lipstick slowly.

your lips, dangerous territory. as his eyes dropped, heat immediately pooled in his face, his ears flushing as well. aaron bit down onto his bottom lip, hard, silently urging himself to snap out of it and pull it together.

but it didn't help he could feel your light breath occasionally fan onto his skin, reminding him of the proximity. it would be way too easy to lean in just a bit closer, to foremost and finally kiss you, just like he's been dreaming of.

aaron let out a not-so-silent exhale at the thought, and before his mind could wander, as if it hadn't already - your lipstick lightly tinting his lips, his neck, or scattered along numerous parts of his body. the sound gained your focus, and drew your attention to his profusely blushing face.

your eyebrows crinkled as you pulled the lipstick a few centimeters away from your lips. "are you alright?"

it took aaron a second to find his voice, speaking after a nervous swallow, small strain present and accompanied with a brisk, stiff nod. "fine."

"you don't seem 'fine'." you shrugged, resuming your task. only this time, your lips were parted lightly, forming a small 'o'.

fuck.

"jus' a bit... hot." aaron managed softly, blushing even more if it were possible and finding it difficult to hold the mirror perfectly still. his eyes involuntarily shot back to your lips, but he indulged himself - letting his gaze linger.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! CoD Headcanons: König x Reader x Ghost (II)

“Sharing is caring” is likely familiar to most, though the nuances of it may sometimes differ beyond the classic expectations. You’re trapped between two jealous, possessive and feverishly infatuated men with no escape in your sight. That implies, of course, you’ve been looking for a way out of this bizarre partnership. Have you? Be honest…

TW: NSFW, obsessive behavior, size kink, violence

Tags: @223princess

[Part I]

Yet another classic rule that comes with your job is to always be ready to deal with the unexpected. Plan as well as you may, the battleground is not as generous as to stick to your schedule. Yet the same principle applies out of combat, too. It’s just…you had’t really imagined such an outcome to be possible. Your extensive training covered most scenarios, from raids, to ambushes, natural disasters, everything except, well, this. You wonder if the code of conduct might include a paragraph about work romance, specifically your teammates taking turns to fuck you shamelessly at any hour of the day.

You gaze at your reflection in the slightly fogged mirror and quickly look away, embarrassed. You can’t bear to see the markings that are peppered all over your body, betraying the depraved activities you’ve indulged in for the past weeks. How did it even come to this? You sit on the edge of the bed, drying your hair, and hesitantly replay the event in your head. Your helpless form crouched on the storage floor, looking up at the two large men gripping at each other’s throats. Behind their masks you could sense their ferocious intent to kill. How would you explain it to your superiors? You gathered up your remaining confidence and barked at them to stop at once. They were indeed taken aback by your sudden yell that could’ve put any drill sergeant to shame. You wanted to get to the bottom of the conflict and put all this bullshit behind as soon as possible. Until they offered you the honest cause of their hostile rivalry. You could only stare in disbelief.

Your first instinct was to wonder if this was some sort of elaborate prank. What the hell, were they a bunch of high schoolers learning to handle their first crush or fucking grown adults in the middle of a military operation? You were never oblivious to it: mixed gender missions always came with a lot of casual hookups to blow off steam. Not your thing, but there’s plenty of other people down to it. Your suggestion was met with angry, vehement refusal. Both Ghost and König were outraged at the insinuation they’d put their dicks in some rando, as if that’s all there was to it. As if anyone else would do. Ironically this is where they found their common ground. König had lifted you nonchalantly by the collar of your uniform and asked you if you’re playing dumb. You could only shrug, even more confused. Ghost joined him and explained, casually and matter-of-fact, that you can call it a hookup as long as you remember it’s a lifelong arrangement. You were to walk out that door with the knowledge you belong to them and they would take any necessary steps to ensure your compliance. The hunting knife that was meant to plunge into his rival was now propped under your chin, dangerously close to your throbbing artery.

Now this should’ve been your sign to nod obediently, pack your suitcase at the earliest convenience and get the hell out. And that was your honest intent, initially. You could almost visualize the documents granting your absence from duty. Then you felt your buttons pop from their seams, forcefully ripped apart by König’s large hand. It occurred to you that you were propped against the wall by two men twice your size. You could hear their now labored breaths, muffled by their masks. The Austrian man roughly readjusted your posture, having you rest against his hips and throwing your legs around his waist. You gasped quietly once you sensed a bulge pressing into you. He fumbled with his zipper, but Ghost interrupted him with an irritated scolding. “You can’t just ram it in, you fucking dumbass.” You didn’t take long to understand the meaning and shivered at the thought. Without a warning, Ghost slid his hand into your now unbuckled pants. Two fingers begun pressing circles over your underwear and an unconscious whine escaped your lips. Satisfied by your reaction, he brought himself closer and increased the pace until he felt the moisture pooling in the fabric, which was enough encouragement to gently slip his way inside of you. In an attempt to help, König lowered his head over your breasts, fondling your now sensitive nipples with his tongue. His mask draped over your skin, adding a mild tickle to the overwhelming buildup. You suddenly remembered the storage no longer had a door after König kicked it out of its hinges, so you tried to push the muscular man away. “W-what if someone comes in?” Against your will and to your surprise, the question rolled out like a prolonged moan and you blushed awkwardly. “They won’t, if you shut up.” Ghost responded curtly. He considered it for a moment, and added smugly: “Don’t worry, that pretty mouth of yours will be real busy soon.” You closed your eyes tightly and prayed you wouldn’t be caught.

And you weren’t. You got away with it. That time, and the other time, and all the other times. At this point you question whether your other teammates truly haven’t noticed or have since learned to look away. Another possibility is that the psychotic duo has threatened the others into silence. Given their cocky attitude whenever you protest about the openness or risky timing, it wouldn’t surprise you at all. Even worse, their libido seems to be increasing exponentially as a consequence to their incessant competition of owning you. They seem to be plagued by a delirious need to have you at all times, and you’re rather afraid to admit that your desire to flee is slowly being replaced by a similar addiction. Rabid dogs in heat. That’s the only analogy that comes to mind.

Last time you didn’t even get the chance to return to the base. The soldiers had exited the truck, cheering their success and marching towards the gate. König had been quiet the entire ride, not even bothering to hide his ardent stare, his eyes hooded with lust. You were about to hop off yourself when you felt his burning grip on your wrist, pulling you back in and onto his lap. Oh, how he loves fucking you like this. His toned legs are sprawled out dominantly and his calloused hands guide you over his erection. No matter how many times you do it, the start is always painful. He’s just that big. But that’s his favorite part. Seeing you wince and tear up, holding your stomach as if shielding it from the foreign object assaulting the walls of your frail body. Then the thrusts become smoother and your movements break into an erratic pleading for more. He wants to witness it all. God, you turn him into a wild animal. His fingers dig into your skin and towards the end you’re a whimpering mess, shamelessly drooling over his uniform in a daze. As you coat him with your slick cum, he grunts and barely manages to speak. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose my mind for good one of these days.” His voice is deep and reverberates against your heaving chest.

Scratch that. Last time you didn’t even make it to the truck. You were laying behind a boulder, wiping the sweat and dirt off your face. You’d just finished taking out your targets and announced your return in the headset. Ghost approaches you with a hidden smirk and squats before you, extending a hand towards you. “Need help?” You nod with gratitude and take off your helmet. You reach for his hand, hoping he’d pull you up, but instead his fingers claw around your throat and push you against the ground. “Good, I have the perfect thing for a little slut like you.” He climbs over you without letting go of your neck and undoes your jacket with ease. Hell, he’s been doing it so often he could manage even blindfolded. With the free hand he shoves one of your legs away to make space. Truth be told, he’s very much biased towards this particular arrangement. He can already feel the unbearable pressure of his member waiting to be freed. He adores being able to take all of you in. Your expression, your small body trapped under his massive frame. He can fuck you as he pleases, until you turn into a rag doll, and there’s no way out. You grit your teeth in anticipation and hold onto his arm that’s choking you once he goes in. You must’ve been molded just for him. There’s no other explanation for his feral clinginess, scratching and biting and pulling in desperate, agonizing pleasure. After the deed has been done he can admire his masterful work, gazing lovingly at your flustered, disheveled form, gasping for air and dripping with his seed.

Your shake your head and try to chase away these perverted memories. You’re still damp from the shower and continue massaging your scalp with the towel, when you hear a knock on your door. Oh, no. No. “Busy!” is all you manage to shout. The door opens nonetheless and Ghost and König waltz in, entirely indifferent to your refusal. “Can’t I have one moment to myself?” You groan, frustrated. König leans against the wall and Ghost kneels in front of you. There’s a hint of cheekiness in his voice. “Sure. Tell us to go away and we will.” You blink and ponder his words. Remembering all the past encounters has gotten you a little bit eager, that’s true, but… “Say it.” He repeats himself. You squirm and look away, a deep red spreading across your face. Your lips are pursed. König lets out a soft laugh and closes the door, then faces you. “Since you wanted to be a brat, you have to beg for it now.”

What have you gotten yourself into?

[vikkirosko]

hello, I would like a scenario where stolas, fizz and striker with a s/o who covers him with lipstick kisses and then gives him a shy smile

Headcanons Lipstick marks

🦉 Stolas x Reader 🎩

For a long time, you and Stolas haven't had many opportunities to spend time together. However, after he divorced Stella, you had a lot more time that you could spend together and you both tried to make up for the lost time that you could spend together

Quite often, when you were alone, you kissed. He gently hugged you around the waist, and you stroked his cheeks with your palms while you kissed. And on a quiet day that you planned to spend together, you came to his office, but before he could say anything, you kissed him. You kissed his face, and when you pulled away, he saw a shy smile on your lips

You ran away from his office, and Stolas didn't quite realize what it was until he saw his reflection in the window. There were lipstick marks on his face that you left. Now the reason for your innocent smile and the fact that you left so quickly was obvious. This caused him to laugh softly and a warmth in his chest

Stolas came to you quickly, not hiding his own smile and pulling you in for another kiss. The marks of your kisses excited him and he would like to give you as many kisses as you gave him

🐍 Striker x Reader 👢

Striker was often in various places of Hell because of his work, but every time he had no "orders" he returned to you, to your small apartment where you were always glad to see him, where you helped treat his wounds. You have been in a relationship for a long time and Striker knew that he could always come to you, even if he was stained with someone else's blood

Due to the fact that he was often absent, you tried to catch up. You spent a lot of time together, trying to stay in the house, because Striker had a lot of enemies. And he especially liked kissing you. He often kissed you when you were spending time together or when you were going about your business

In the morning, you periodically left to, for example, go to the store or do something for work, although you usually worked from home. And this morning Striker woke up to the feeling of a kiss on the cheek. He opened his eyes a little and saw you and your shy smile. You kissed him on the tip of his nose again and said you'd be back in a couple of hours and left. It was only when he got up and saw his reflection in the bathroom mirror that he understood the reason for your shy smile. There were a lot of lipstick marks on his face that you left before you left

Striker couldn't help but grin at the lipstick marks. When you returned, he managed to wash the lipstick off his face, but that didn't mean he was going to ignore your kisses. He intended to return them to you with interest, especially now that you've returned home

🎪 Fizzarolli x Reader 💟

Fizzarolli loved spending time with you and loved kissing you. His feelings for you were strong and he wasn't shy about showing them to you, to which you responded in kind. You showed your feelings for each other regardless of whether you were alone or in a public place

It's enough when Fizz applied his makeup, he could smear your face with his makeup, laughing and smiling. You also laughed, joking that now you can go on stage together, but one day you decided to respond to him in the same way that he usually did, but for Fizzarolli it was still a surprise

When he washed off his makeup, you hugged him from behind and started kissing his cheeks. Fizzarolli laughed, turning to you and pulling you in for a kiss. You were kissing, and when you pulled away, he saw a shy smile on your face. It was a little unusual, so Fizz looked at his reflection and laughed when he saw the lipstick marks of your lips on his face

Fizzarolli liked to see the marks you left on his skin and he took advantage of the opportunities to leave similar marks on your skin. It seemed to bring you closer together, and although you didn't leave similar marks on each other's faces when you had to go somewhere, it didn't mean that you erased them on other parts of your bodies

[sunkissedchld]

𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

💲 the 6H details routine, so it can also tell about one’s work ethic

capricorn 6H - has a one-track mind when it comes to work. they’re not in the office to make friends, so they may not converse freely with their coworkers like others like to. they may overwork and feel an obligation to put their most effort into their work and the organization they work for. leo 6H - the more recognition they receive, the more work they do. they are innovative and outspoken in whatever field they go into. they may take leadership positions in general, but also when doing group projects or something of that nature. they are encouraging towards their coworkers and may be interested in them as people outside of work. virgo 6H - very detail-oriented in their work. they may plan for the best and worst case scenario because they prefer to be prepared. they may also overwork like capricorns do. they may also like helping others in the work force. if someone is struggling on a group project or just in general, they may help guide that person to the right answer. very responsible and trustworhty as a worker.

💲 the 10H details one’s reputation at work and what they can contribute to society

taurus 10H - has a good fashion sense and looks aesthetically pleasing in the workforce; this could be in relation to literal dressing and appearance, but it can also be applied to their actual work (ie. if they were in graphic design, their graphics would look pleasing to the general public’s eye). provides society with a comforting way of seeing things. pisces 10H - maintains good workplace relationships. may be seen as someone that’s good at planning as they are imaginative and creative and think ahead. they may be seen as a mediator in the workplace. they can provide society with a bit of optimism and a whimsical way of looking at things as opposed to being cynacial and realistic all the time. aries 10H - could often be viewed as a potential leader in the workforce. may be the type to make friends at work in order to boost company morale and encourage others to participate in workplace culture. very active and vocal voice in the workforce. they can provide society with encouragement and competition in a fun way that gets nearly everyone involved.

💲 planets in or making aspects to the work houses (2H, 6H, 10H) can tell more about one’s work ethic, reputation, and success in their life

ie. neptune in the 6H may find it a little hard to keep their mind on work and/or they may daydream about their future job often; sun in the 6H may live and breathe their job and find it hard to break away from it in order to enjoy life or spend time with others.

💲 the signs of the work houses (2H, 6H, 10H) ALONE can not tell you what career you should go into

this is an unpopular opinion as most people are told to look at their 10H in order to see their future career or what they should be doing, but i actually find this limiting! i think a stellium or one’s dominant planet/house can be more informative of a job they would be good at, enjoy as a result of prior interest, and possibly gain material wealth from.

💲 the 2H details what one can gain from work, this can be materially or in others ways (ie. mentally, emotionally, as a lesson, etc.)

virgo 2H - a different life perspective than one you had before, a service-oriented personality, increase in health conciousness leo 2H - leadership skills, prestige and wealth, compassion, attention as a whole, possibly fame sagittarius 2H - a focus on the bigger picture rather than being so detail-oriented, expansion of ideals, acceptance, travel opportunites

𝐌𝐂 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓

💲 the 6H and where virgo sits in your MC persona chart can tell of what job you will end up doing

the 6H and virgo both detail service towards others and jobs are often exactly that - providing a service to other people in order to make a living. aquarius 6H / virgo in 11H - technology, engineering, computer science, activism, humanities taurus 6H / virgo in 10H - banking and financial services, art collector or curator, fashion designer, makeup artist gemini 6H / virgo in 3H - teacher, writer, public relations, public affairs

💲 Juno in your MC persona could tell where your future spouse helps you out in your career endeavors

Juno in 5H - in creative spark and inspiration, in enjoying or finding joy in your work

Juno in 1H - in gaining attention, in first impressions people have of you on the job Juno in 4H - in feeling comfortable and secure in your work, in feeling that your work is what you’re meant to do

💲 asteroids and planets making prominent aspects to Sun in your MC persona can tell more about the job you work or the way you work

💲 Fortuna (19) in the MC persona chart can tell about where you can find luck - good or bad - in your work life

Fortuna in 2H - luck in finances, material possessions, work ethic and values Fortuna in 5H - luck in creative ideas, enjoyment, influence Fortuna in 3H - luck in communication, persuasion, teamwork

💲 north node placement in MC persona can what you need to learn to feel comfortable doing in the workforce

NN in 10H - learning to feel comfortable with having a strong reputation and being in the spotlight; learning to feel comfortable around men NN in 1H - learning to feel comfortable with the way you present yourself to others; learning to feel comfortable with how others view you NN in 11H - learning to feel comfortable with creating friendships; learning to feel comfortable with being a part of a larger culture

𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒

💲 Edisona (742) making prominent aspects in your chart can indicate someone being an enterpernuer

edison was more of an enterperneur than inventor, as he often marketed inventions others already made, so that’s why i prefer this interpretation of the asteroid

💲 those interested in journalism and other writing careers should look for Gemini / 3H prominence in their charts (natal and MC persona)

💲 Ceres making prominent aspects in your chart can indicate somone being interested in cooking

💲 those interested in teaching should look for Sagittarius / 9H / 3H prominence in their charts

💲 those interested in graphic design should look for Earth dominance / degrees / placements in their charts

[howtofightwrite]

i feel like, when it comes to people trying to use violence to knock people out - rather than avoiding methods that could cause permanent injury entirely, the previous anon(s) could just go for it while acknowledging the potential consequences in-writing?

so we can say that maybe, a kidnapper knocks another person out via head injury, and the KIDNAPPER doesn't care; but when the person is rescued the rescuers are worried for them because 'what do you mean you were hit in the head?!' and immediately checked for a concussion.

one could also have it so that the person doesn't know what head trauma or other bodily harm can cause and be appropriately horrified if/when they learn - or, if it's a character who uh. doesn't care for their body or health as much, they could hear this and refuse to care. follow what the character would do on that

they don't even need to actually have the person get a permanent injury. there can be a hospital scene or first-aid responder scene where they check the victim's head and go 'you are very. VERY lucky to not have a permanent brain injury from this', and insist on them to keep monitoring for any future symptoms.

there's a lot of other ways to go about knocking someone out, but iirc this will also apply to other methods of forced unconsciousness, like sleeping pills, sleeping gas or chloroform. in real life, it's always going to risk extra consequences because it involves forcing someone's bodily functions to shut down, if temporarily

and that shouldn't stop them from writing anyway, since fiction is often going to stretch the realm of belief a little with improbable situations, y'know? a lot of stories already take liberties with it. but it's both admirable and a good thing when someone wants to be more faithful to reality, regardless, so that's why i'd like to give my own thoughts.

if the person trying to find a non-lethal angle to knocking someone out is really worried, they could just make a disclaimer saying 'unrealistic depictions of violence/recovery' or 'creative liberties taken with the consequences of bodily harm' at the start of the story and go with their previous plans

but it's perfectly fine to just write as is while acknowledging the situation in-story too, is what i feel. or even have the character actually suffer the consequences. that angle is always interesting when explored.

timeskips are also a way to cheat on the recovery period, if you want it to be really realistic. imagine this scenario; a person gets knocked unconscious during a kidnapping. they wake up and manage to escape with a concussion - but they still have the concussion from the initial assault, along with other injuries during the hostage period. they are promptly hospitalised.

timeskip to several months after. the person has recovered! (or mostly recovered, depending).

a new kidnapper enters the scene! but they don't want the victim to actually be hurt, and the waiting period was hell, so they either just get their bouncer to grab them with no chance for reprieve, nab them while asleep, or threaten them via gun to head/consequences for someone else/etc to get in the car. no actual knocking out forcefully, only unconsciousness is falling asleep in the car.

consequences make for an interesting narrative too, is what i'm trying to say; and there's no need to shy away from it, but rather acknowledge that reality as fact.

I normally wouldn't light up an ask like this, but it is doing a lot of mental gymnastics to try to skirt around the central problems with violence.

So, let's start at the top: Acknowledging a problematic behavior as problematic can still result in the author endorsing that behavior, if they present the specific examples of that behavior in a positive light. If you're having characters casually knocking people out, you are endorsing inflicting extremely hazardous, and potentially life-altering injuries onto people, “but, it's okay, because I didn't kill them.”

The problem comes from an author wanting their upbeat, happy-go-lucky protagonist to also be an absolute bad ass, without interrogating the ethical issues inherent to their “heroic activities.” Worse, in many cases, they want their character to be perceived as a good person, regardless of the horrors they inflict on their fellow human beings.

The last time I covered this, I took a passing swipe at Batman, but it remains a relevant factor to consider about a lot of action hero characters. He engages in absolutely disproportionate violence against people who are engaging in criminal activity because socioeconomic factors that are beyond their control.

A lot of fictional violence gets framed in contexts where the nobility of the protagonist is preserved either because, “they don't kill people,” or, they specifically limit their violence to groups that are “socially acceptable,” targets.

In fact, you can even see an example of the latter in the listing above, with the express targeting of, “kidnappers.” Now, I have no love for human traffickers, but seriously consider for a second that this specific, highly-specialized, career path was called out as the group to engage in this behavior. I'm sorry, “why?” What is it about a kidnapper that makes them more likely to be willing to inflict harm on their victim than some other group? But, that's not the point. The point is so that when your protagonist does truly horrible things to those kidnappers, they're still “a good person,” at the end of the day. (There's also a little goofiness about kidnappers in the ask, because they care more about the physical health of their victim than most criminals would. Think about it this way, a mugger wants your wallet, and you're just an incidental obstetrical between you and their target, for a kidnapper, you are the wallet. They want their victim reasonably intact. Whether that is for a later sale, or for a ransom, they don't get paid if their victim is “non-functional.”)

Actually, a really messed up example of this, on this blog, was a few years back, when someone was asking about their “vigilante” characters gunning down drug addicts. Which, yeah, that's pretty fucked up.

When the author botches their, “acceptable targets,” (which is the point of that Batman critique, by the way), the entire illusion can start to break apart. And it can really expose the idea that you're trying to pretend your character is a good person, because their actions target people who the author felt were, “undeserving,” of continuing to breathe.

Falling Down (1993), with Michael Douglas and Robert Duvall is an excellent interrogation of some of these concepts. I don't want to say too much else, because the film is open to interpretations, (some of which are extremely scathing), and I think the film speaks for itself better when no one is telling you how to interpret it. Just be prepared for an uncomfortable viewing.

Back when we were both regularly active, ScriptMedic and I used to have a bit of a back and forth about pharmaceutical means to subdue someone.

Chloroform is a classic example in fiction, and it was popular in crime thrillers from 80-90 years ago, in an era when ready clinical information to laypersons was far more limited. First of all, the rag over the mouth doesn't work. This is a gas used for anesthesia, and you need a lot more than a single vial to keep someone under. Second, you need to keep applying it to keep them under. Again, that rag isn't going to hold enough. Third, if you somehow got enough chloroform onto that rag, it would sedate everyone in the vicinity, because it's an anesthetic gas. (The liquid form is extremely volatile, and will quickly convert to a gas at room temperature. That gas is what is supposed to knock someone out.) Fourth it used to be a common additive in toothpaste, and frequently occurs as an out-gassing from polymers and adhesives. Popular culture hilariously overestimates how potent this stuff is. You need a lot to put someone under, and you need a trained anesthesiologist to keep them under without accidentally killing them. Also, prolonged use results in liver damage and cardiac issues, which is why we no longer use it for anesthesia. If you try to put someone under without an anesthesiologist, and you manage to sedate them... they'll die. Turns out, it also suppresses the respiratory system, and they suffocate.

It's a similar story with most anesthetic gasses, and in fact, chloroform is one of the “sleeping gasses.” Not all of them have the liver or heart issues, but none of them are, “fire and forget.”

ScriptMedic was a fan of Ketamine for knocking out characters. And, to be fair, Ketamine is fantastic for anesthesiologists. Exceeding the necessary dosage just puts the patient out for longer, which may be inconvenient, but it's vastly preferable to, death. The problem is, it's not great for fire and forget tranq adventures. Ketamine does not suppress salivation. Which isn't a big deal on the operating table, as you can pretty easily keep someone from drowning in their own spittle, but if you just inject some poor mook, and leave them on the curb, they're going to drool themselves to death.

Actual tranquilizer guns are a real thing. They're frequently used in animal control. You don't use these on people because TV lied to you. You get darted, and if you decide to keep the dart in your neck as a peculiar fashion statement, you've still got somewhere between fifteen minutes to an hour to finish up whatever you were doing, before someone rudely added a nap to your schedule. Oh, yeah, and if the dose is too high, these anesthetics can kill you. Dosage calculations with these things are educated guesses at best, and it's why sometimes animal control really can't afford to use tranq guns. It's not callousness, it's a calculus between the threat the animal poses to others, and if they have the time to wait and see if the tranqs work.

What you really need to not shy away from, is the idea that if your character engages in violence, there are going to be consequences for that violence. Unlike in real life, as the author, you are responsible for applying those consequences to the participants. This creates a real problem when you have authors who intentionally try to skirt around the parts of the events they find uncomfortable it reduces the impact of that violence.

To drag up that Batman example, the reason it's a slightly peculiar and subversive take is because it's outside the scope of the comics. Batman goes in, beats up muggers, comes out completely unharmed, and it's all okay because we know Batman's a good person, doing this for good reasons, and the muggers are still alive to reform and become better people in society.

Except, if you step away from the idea of a superhero comic, none of that makes any kind of sense.

The story you're trying to tell doesn't need every instance of violence to be followed with an extensive interrogation of the philosophical implications of what your characters did. However, if you're trying to tell a story where violence is a spectacle that happens in a regular rhythm, it's not going to hit in the same way.

I'm pretty sure I've said this many times, but violence has diminishing returns in your story. The more you use violence (particularly non-consequential violence), the less it will matter, and like any other tool you can call upon, the less your audience will respond to it.

There's nothing wrong with putting some violence with your story, but the one thing you do need to do is be honest with yourself about it. You can lie to your readers. (Though, that's something you want to be very careful of.) But, if you lie to yourself it will harm your story. Sometimes that does require doing some serious soul searching about what you're trying to do. Because, what you're trying to do right now is tell me that you want serious violence, without really coming to grips with how that constrains your options about how violence and physical harm work.

Again, there's nothing wrong with popcorn action. But if you want to write breezy fights between superheroes, you really need to admit, to yourself, that's what you're doing. Your story will be better for it.

-Starke

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[luveline]

i think alternate versions for roan calling reader mom would be fun since there are so many ways it could happen !! personally would love it to happen after the last convo with eddie seeing how roan just says the silliest shit it wouldnt phase me if she just started calling her mom directly after that convo

I thought so too! much pressure to pick just the one scenario and why bother!!! plus I love this idea. the ficlet anon mentioned. ♡ roan calling reader 'mommy' for the first time ♡ fem!reader [4k]

Eddie had made the decision to ask his daughter, Roan, for permission before he proposed to you. He thought it might be best for her to get a say and that by including her any future transition would come smoother, softer.

He hadn't anticipated this.

Roan practically writhes in her car seat to be released. She hasn't stopped singing since he told her his plans.

"I'm gonn'have a mommy, I'm gonn'have a mommy," she repeats, a saccharine sweet tune that makes his heart thrum for her.

He hadn't realised how badly she wanted this.

Because Roan loves you. Has loved you since she met you, has grown to love you like any kid loves a parent. She's infatuated with you and, Eddie's proud to say, you adore her in turn. He can't believe that fate would work like this, that he'd find you — someone who could love both him and his daughter with an intensity he melts under and a tenacity that scares him.

You're a fixture in their lives. You're forever. Eddie knows that and he thinks Roan had known it some. His admission that he has plans to marry you had seemingly sealed the deal.

Though he feels that may be a bad analogy. Whatever's happened to his daughter, 'sealed' doesn't apply; she's become usntoppered. All her mountains of love and affection for you have appeared and they cannot be tamped down.

Believe him, he's tried.

"Roan," he says, very carefully and with all of his parenting might, "what's the rule?"

She's still in her dress she wore to daycare with Teddy, her one-eared stuffy, clutched to her chest. He watches her beam to herself and sing to the bear through the rearview mirror.

"Roan," he says again.

"What?" she asks, looking up.

"What's the rule, sweetheart? What did we talk about on the way here?"

Roan whines to be let out of her car seat. "We talked about big questions," she says.

"Right, babe, we did. But what did we talk about after that?"

Roan stares at him, dumbfounded. After a couple of seconds she nods, bunches messy from all the excitement. "Oh! I can't tell Y/N about the-" She stops dead, the word sticky like honey in her mouth. "Puh-postal. Posal. "

"Yes, the proposal. Because?"

"Um, 'cos it's private?"

"Yes," he says gratefully, dragging both hands through his hair. He's far from ready to propose tonight, covered in oil and grease and dirt from a long shift. He needs time, and he's worried Roan might force his hand. He wouldn't have come at all if she hadn't wanted to see you so badly.

She would be my mommy? she'd all but-screamed, more excitement on her face than a Christmas morning when she'd realised the enormity of his admission.

"We don't want to spoil the surprise, okay? So we aren't going to talk about the 'puh-posal', we're gonna talk about other things, yeah?"

"Yes, now let me out!"

Eddie bites his lip at her lack of manners. It's his own fault.

He gets out and releases Roan, slinging her hastily packed backpack over his shoulder and locking the car as she sprints to your front door. He wouldn't normally let her run off by herself but it's a short distance that she clears in seconds.

She hammers at the door, and Eddie means hammers. Both fists and her teddy's glass eyes slamming into the wood.

He catches up with her and pulls her back before she can smash something, whether it be her plushie's face or her tiny fists. She fights his hold.

"Baby?" he calls loudly, face angled toward the grain of your front door. "It's us."

"I'm coming!" you yell.

Roan squeals. It's extremely heartwarming. Eddie's sure he'd be beaming if he didn't suddenly feel sick with nerves. He might not he about to propose, but he'll have to eventually. Have to sum up every feeling he has for you, and ask for something huge from you. He'd been so caught up in Roan's acceptance of his decision that he'd forgotten there's a future where you don't say yes to this. Irresponsible, that he hadn't considered that happening.

He can survive your rejection. (He would literally be in agony, but he would survive.) Roan might get permanently hurt, though. He hadn't thought about it.

Nausea climbs up like a wave. It spikes as you open the door in your pajamas, a t-shirt he'd got for you and a black pair of slacks. Your hair's slightly messy but your face is clean, a water droplet dripping down the curve of your neck. You must've been washing up for the night.

Roan squeals again and launches herself at you. It's not unusual behaviour for her — she loves you, seriously — and you giggle infectiously, sticky thick and sweet with fondness.

"Oh hi, princess," you say with equal enthusiasm, pulling her up easy. It had taken you a while to master the parent hold. Now you're a champ. "I didn't think I was gonna see you tonight, wow!"

She looks like the happiest little girl on the planet. "Daddy said we could come because I answered the big question and I wanted to come really badly," she explains in a rush, smiling as wide as she possibly can.

You laugh again and look up from her to raise your eyebrows at Eddie. "Big questions, huh? Sounds like daddy was proposing to you." You've made yourself laugh.

Eddie could keel over.

"He said not to talk-"

"I said-" he interrupts loudly, mouth moving before he can really think about it, "not to talk about-" and he really can't think of anything, he's flailing, he's hopeless-

"The postal!" Roan says helpfully.

"Postal," you echo quizzically.

"I missed you so much," Roan says.

You forget very quickly about the 'postal'. You're as gone for her as she is for you. "Aw, babe, I missed you so much too. I'm so floppin' happy you're here."

You reach your hand out toward Eddie to pull him inside. He closes the door behind himself and drops Roan's bag by the door, following his two lovely girls down the hallway and into the living room. You flick the light on and drop Roan into her special designated seat, pausing with your hands on either side of her face to ask a familiar question.

"Can I give you a kiss, princess?" you ask.

Roan doesn't usually say no, only when she's really cranky, and today isn't an exception. "Yes, kisses."

You kiss from temple to temple and then ruffle her hair. Your fingers get caught in her bunches and you give her another kiss, murmuring into her skin, "Can I take those hair ties out? I bet you have a hairpin headache."

Roan doesn't know what a hairpin headache is but she's taken on an almost delirious pleasure from being so loved on and lets you remove her hair ties without a single sound.

"Mm," you hum, threading your fingers into her curls. "Tell me how this feels, baby."

Roan closes her eyes as you massage her scalp, encouraging her tangled curls apart with gentle, carding movements.

You're being especially tender, like you somehow know how important this moment is in Roan and Eddie's minds.

"Feels nice, huh?" you ask when she shivers.

"Feels nice," she confirms giddily, leaning back into your big throw cushions.

"How could daddy leave them in all day?" you chide. You're clearly joking, sending him an apologetic pout. He gets it. Part of your bond with her is picking on him.

"He was being grumpy on the couch."

Your pout turns authentic.

"What?" you ask, lowering your voice. "Are you okay?"

Eddie smiles, crosses your rug, takes your shoulders into both hands. "Perfect," he says, and kisses you soundly.

You pull a hand carefully out of Roan's hair and lay it flat over his chest, straight into an oil stain. It's greasy against his skin and under your fingers, and your slightly disgusted reaction stops his adoring kiss short.

"Still in your work clothes? Are you sure you're okay?"

His hands rove slowly up the slopes of your shoulders. "I'm fine. I'm a busy guy, you know? Haven't had time to change with trouble running me ragged."

"Who, this precious angel? For shame, Munson. Like I'd believe it."

You emphasise your point by leaning down and away from him, back into Roan's bubble. She responds like a moth to flame, her small hands quick to screw into the fabric of your sleep shirt and anchor you in place so you can't escape again.

"You're the sweetest baby I've ever met. Your dad's telling me white lies, I know."

"I brought a tiara for you," Roan says, mind on one thing.

"You did? Is it time for a princess party?"

Eddie wouldn't be surprised if Roan burst into tears any second now.

She runs off babbling happily to grab her bag and you turn back to him and stand at full height. You're really pretty, and he loves you, and he's told you so many times now and it still feels urgent to tell you again.

"I love you," you both say at the same time.

You spend a handful of seconds sharing a smile.

"How's your fish?" he asks.

"Still super alive." You drape both arms over his shoulders like you might slow dance with him. "You should shower. I washed your navy pajamas earlier, they're clean."

"I'll just get changed, I'm too tired to shower."

More like, if he leaves you and Roan alone there's no way he can possibly keep this situation under control.

You shake your head. "Don't be silly. Me and Roan'll start our party without you. I'll make samdwhiches and snacks and stuff, don't worry about it."

He really wants to reject your offer.

"Baby, you have to take care of yourself," you murmur, stroking down the hill of his cheek with your pinky finger.

He couldn't be more in love.

"Yeah, okay. I'll be really quick."

"Take your time." It's obvious that you're confused. Long passed are the days where Eddie had worried Roan might be a bit much for you. He's usually got more trust in you. "You know I love her, right? I don't-"

He kisses the stricken look off of your face.

You lean into it, like you'd been waiting for it. He supposes it's a reassurment, and he offers you more, "Of course I know that. M'just tired, and she's excited tonight. Don't want you to stress."

"I'm not stressed. Now go shower, you're getting oil on me."

-

Eddie is an extremely physically expressive person and as a result has created and extremely physically expressive child. Roan doesn't just feel emotions, she experiences them. Excitement for her isn't a feeling but a mode, in which she sings and dances and climbs in and out of your lap citing a thousand different reasons.

"I'm straightening your crown," she informs seriously. It falls off of your head and onto the couch. She doesn't seem in any hurry to retrieve it, choosing instead to play with your hair.

"Did daddy give you candy for dinner?"

"We had chicken and waffles."

"Oh, nice. Did he leave any for me?"

She thinks about it, socked feet digging into your thighs. "I think he left chicken wings for you and then Rufus was by the porch."

"I see how it is. I'm gone for one day and he starts giving my dinner to the strays."

Roan's fingertips are warm where they explore the skin beneath your ear. "What did you eat for dinner?"

"Well," you say, wrapping an arm around her until she collapses into your lap, "I didn't have your dad around to cook for me so I had a sandwhich and chips." You feel bad for being a poor role model.

"Chips," she says, eyes widening.

"You want some? I got lots left."

You and Roan head into the kitchen. You get her some chips and start to make sandwiches with the scraps you have left for her princess party.

"You want crusts?"

"No," she says. You really love the way she says it, like she's being super cheeky even though you really don't mind cutting them off.

"So what's up with you, Ro? Was school okay today?"

Roan's bag of chips rattles as she flounces toward you and raises her arms to be picked up. You're mid-sandwhich, so you raise her up onto the counter top and stand half in front of her to account for the low possibility that she might fall off.

"Stacey P.," she begins, somehow managing to fit two chips in her small mouth at the same time, "she got a new bike that she was riding to school, and she got a basket and it had a flower."

You cut the sandwhich into four triangles. "That sounds fun. Did dad let you ride yours too?"

"Yeah but he makes me get off at the hill."

"Your legs will get tired trying to bike up that hill, babe. I's like a mountain."

You smile at the mental image of it, Eddie in his work uniform, a pink sparkly bike under one arm and Roan's hand in his. Sometimes, you're genuinely shocked you managed to nab him before somebody else did.

"I can do it," she says confidently.

You slide the plate toward her. "Sandwhich?"

Roan ends up disassembling a triangle to shove chips inside. You laugh under you breath at her antics. She reminds you of her dad all the time, and he reminds her of you. They're intertwined completely.

"Roan, you won't think I'm a weirdo if I give you a hug, will you? I really missed you and dad."

Roan drops her sandwhich instantly and opens her arms up, grinning. "Dad says being a weirdo is cool."

"Being a weirdo is cool," you agree, bundling her up into a very close hug.

Her hair is soft as silk pressed to your cheek, sweet curls crushed against your skin.

"You know I love you?" you ask her.

Being close to her like this has you thinking extremely selfish thoughts. You're not naive, you know you do lots of things that mom's do. You know you look after her, that you love her, that you want to be her mom forever. It kind of feels taboo to think it. Do I have the right?

By the time you'd met Roan she was barely a baby anymore. Eddie's her dad, he did and he does all the hard stuff, but you've slowly earned certain gifts. You love to make her dinner, and get her dressed, and help her in the shower when Eddie's busy — all the basic stuff that doesn't feel basic at all. And you get to do more. You sit with her during tantrums, you cause tantrums. You kiss her scraped knees and let her nap in your lap, you answer her unending questions with patience and you spoil her when you can. You take care of her like she's your own.

She feels like your own.

But it's terrifying to presume.

The thought of one day losing Eddie is striking. He's your favourite person in the entire world (along with his daughter, of course). You love him and everything that comes with him, the oil stains and the bad jokes and the nerd games, the thousands of cuddles and his eager kisses. Losing Roan at the same time would be a death sentence.

"I love you too!" she says. It's like she'd been waiting all day for you to say something and now's her time to shine. "I love you so much and dad told me not to tell you 'bout it but I love you so I want to."

You frown into her hair. "Dad told you not to tell me you love me?"

She giggles. "You are trying to trick me."

You giggle in reply, willing to run with it. "I'm not trying to trick you, baby. I'm just confused."

"Dad says it was private."

You encourage her face back to meet her eyes. "I don't know what daddy's been telling you, but if you love me it's okay to tell me. I love you."

You rub her cheek with your thumb as she nods a voracious agreement. "And you're gonna be my mom," she says, beaming. It's casual. She doesn't realise the bomb she's dropped.

Lips parted, you stare at her. Roan goes shy, the obvious beginnings of rejection on her face.

"Baby," you say quickly, ignoring the trembling in your own hands as you stroke her hair from her forehead and cup the back of her head, "I think that's something me and your dad have to talk about first."

"But after the pu-postal you'll- Dad said-"

"What did I say?" Eddie asks, brown eyes wide as a deer in headlights.

Roan falls silent.

You look between the two Munson's. Your heart pounds with anxiety.

Eddie stands in the kitchen doorway in his pajamas with a towel around his neck, curls sopping wet and leeching into the white fabric steadily. He smells distinctly like conditioner even from a couple feet away, the fruity sleekness of jasmine tickling your nose.

"What has she told you?" Eddie asks, scratching the back of his neck.

"What's a 'postal'?"

You're ashamed to admit you're on the edge of being upset.

"It's uh- a code word," he says. "For a secret."

"We're keeping secrets?"

"No?"

"You don't sound very sure."

"It's just- It's- It's hard to explain, baby."

Roan's hands covet your arm. You let her pull you toward her and hug you, still so confused by everything that's being said, and you're conflicted about what she's told you. Honestly, you're a little bit hurt.

"Roan said... Said you told her that she shouldn't tell me she loves me because it's private?"

Eddie pulls at both ends of the towel, looking conflicted. "It's not that."

"It's okay," Roan says softly, resting her face against your arm.

"I just don't get what-"

"It's okay, mommy," Roan says, lifting her chin to smile at you.

"Roan," Eddie says, devastated.

You press your lips together hard and turn to her, the prick of tears sudden and effective as a thorn. It's okay, mommy.

You get your arms under her armpits and pull her up into your chest before she can protest one moving to behind her butt and the other her back as her knees dig into your waist. You know if you look at Eddie you're gonna start crying for real, hiding your face in her hair and taking a shaky breath.

You always say the same thing when Roan is unhappy. Why are you sad, babe? It's okay. You can cry if you want to. Do you want me to do something?

Roan doesn't remember the words, but she tries.

"Why are you crying?" Roan asks. Clumsy, earnest, lovely.

"I'm not," you deny.

"It's okay to cry when you have to."

Eddie joins her reassurance. "Babe, it's alright. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, I promise. I'm not keeping secrets from you. Please don't be upset."

"I'm fine," you squeak.

Neither Munson believes you.

"I didn't tell Roan she couldn't say she loves you, okay? It was something else I asked her not to tell you."

You blink quick and dispel tears. It's a silly thing to cry about. You can't understand it, and you're embarrassed. You're perplexed by Eddie's sudden opaqueness but thrilled and aching at Roan's calling you 'mommy'. You can't get the words out to tell him.

Roan called you mommy.

"I love you," you say tearfully, squeezing Roan tight enough to make the poor girl groan.

"You're suffotating me!" she laughs, squirming.

Her dad finally comes up behind you and spreads his hand over your shoulder. You raise your gaze to his, find his lovely features lined with a strange kind of stress. He dips his head toward your ear.

"If you don't want her to call you mom, that's okay," he says quietly, seriously, "I didn't know she was going to."

"I know, Eds," you say, relaxing as his hand climbs to your neck.

"I'll tell you whatever you want to know," he reaffirms.

You understand what he's trying to say. All these conversations can be had privately if you want to have them. But Eddie doesn't realise that he doesn't need to worry, he never has. You love them.

"If it's okay with you," you murmur, staring at the soft 'V' shapes of his bottom lashes, "she can call me mom."

It feels like an admission. Is there any other way he can take it? Yes, Eddie, I plan on being here for a long fucking while.

It's a huge thing to admit that you want, and to promise that you'll live upto.

Eddie encircles the two of you in his arms. As Roan rests her head against your chest, your rest your head against his collar. He lifts his hand to wipe away the small shock of tears lingering in your eyelashes and then kisses the top of your head three times in a row.

You understand what the secret had been, suddenly.

The pu-postal.

Your heart jackhammers. You cling to Roan, unsure how long you stand there being hugged and hugging.

Roan breaks first. "Sam-widges," she whines, wiggling.

Eddie pulls away. You set Roan on the counter and she continues to eat her sandwhiches, legs kicking against the dishwasher.

You collect yourself before you turn to face Eddie — and his secret — head on. You can tell he knows you know.

You sniffle under his adoring gaze.

"Love you," he says, leaning down for a kiss. He stops before his lips can reach yours, the tip of his nose whispering against yours as his hands explore your abdomen.

Waist, ribs, the small of your back.

You stare at his closed eyes.

"I love you," he says again.

"I love you, Eddie."

His eyes open and he catches you watching him.

Eddie doesn't kiss you, only stares. You nod almost imperceptibly and he chucks under your chin with his knuckle before he gives you some space, moving to stand by Roan where she's lounging on the counter and picking apart a sandwhich to fill with chips.

He kisses her cheek. "Got one for me?"

Roan holds her sandwhich up to his mouth. Eddie takes a huge bite.

"Dad! You almost ate my fingers!"

"Not my fault your hands look yummy."

You hold your own face in two hands and feel the blistering heat of your cheeks seep into your hands. How can two people make up so much of your life?

"I think we should move in together," you say.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled.

"You and Roan. You should come and live with me."

Eddie's barely smiled when Roan shrieks at the top of her lungs.

"Yes!"

-

more eddie and roan

there's an eddie and roan masterlist available through my navigation but the link is temporarily not working here ♡

[sim0nril3y]

Seaside

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: You both spend the day down at the seaside Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), teasing, eating, smutty smut smut, sex, p in v, creampie, canon-typical swearing.

It was a surprisingly nice day, the sun was shining, the sky was completely clear of any clouds and there was even a gentle breeze to keep things cool. Added to the fact that it was a weekend and you didn’t have any plans it seemed like some miracle. Whilst you sat and ate breakfast you mentioned. “Maybe we could go to the seaside?” You suggested and from where Simon was making a tea behind you, he hummed in agreement. Honestly you had expected more resistance but he seemed just fine with the idea.

“Oh, that is exciting.” You giggled happily. “Do you want me to pack some food or should we get something down there?” You quizzed with a pinch in your brow. “Babe, I’m not driving all the way down there without having fish and chips.” He smirked, sipping from his tea. “And ice cream?” You looked up happily. “And ice cream.” He confirmed. “Now, go on. Go get ready.” He coaxed softly watching as you finished your toast in a big bite and then rushed to go get ready.

It didn’t seem to take long. You finally decide on an outfit and then were waiting as Simon approached his keys in hand. “Where’s your jacket?” He asked, his own fleece hung over his arm and arch in his brow. “I won’t need one, Si. It’s a nice day out there.” Gesturing to the window beside you as the sun beamed down. “What about when it gets chilly tonight?” He replied evenly, making a fair comment but not one that you were willing to listen to. There were times when you would do this, act stubborn or rather blatantly ignore his suggestions and typically you would always come around to his way of thinking only after the disaster had happened.

“Simon, I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” Then shaking your head and opening the door briskly. “The sooner we get there the sooner we can soak up the sun.” A tired sigh left his lips watching as you walk away from him. “Fine.” He huffed, closing the door and locking it behind him. It was your mistake to make.

The drive down wasn’t too long, but it seemed like everyone had the same idea of heading down to the beach. It was like a fight for a parking and earned the glares of several families when he finally slotted into a space. “Oi.” He growled as you were about to climb from the car. “Look here…” He took your face in hand and took some time applying sun cream to your face, taking his time massaging it into your skin. “I get the feeling you just like putting cream on my face~” You purred which earned you a look of caution.

“We only just got here.” Simon’s voice was even and he saw that cheeky smile that pressed to your lips. “Behave yourself or I’ll drive you home.” He commanded and you laughed and nodded. “Promise~” Then leaning forward to kiss him and he smirked. “You smell like a holiday.” He noted, it was a pleasant smell, one that he wanted to savour for a moment longer before climbing from the car and announcing. “It’s never too early for ice cream, is it?”

It turned out that it really was never too early for ice cream, the two of you took a couple cones down to the stony beach and sat down watching the ocean. Even on a roasting day like this the water would be shockingly cold and still there were people playing in it. You smiled happily as you watched them before turning your attention to Simon, eyeing his frozen treat and he huffed as he held it in your direction to take a lick. “Mmm…” Then holding out your own for him to taste too. “That’s nice, babe.” He approved softy.

A loud calling of music and flashing lights drew you both over to the arcades next. They were crammed with kids and adults lining up to play the penny machines, claw machines, shooting games and anything else that was hidden in there. You even convinced Simon to toss a couple pennies into the machine, whilst you exchanged almost all the change in your purse to win a plastic ring and a lollipop.

Proudly you kept holding your hand out for Simon to observe it. A smirk played on his lips as he observed it for a moment and then said. “Very nice… you put about £5 into that machine to get a 50p bit of junk from it.” “Ah-ah. I won this junk.” You corrected with a big grin playing on your lips. “More than you won, Si~” You teased and this caused him to smirk before pulling you into his side and continuing to walk through the arcade before hearing the roar of laughter and cheering.

The two of you glanced over to see a group of lads gathered around the punching machine, a bag swung down and you would test your strength by hitting it as hard as you could. They were clearly trying to beat the record that was into the high 800s. “Bet you could beat that.” You coaxed softly, hand caressing the strong ink-covered bicep. You both observed for a moment before the group grew bored with not being able to beat it and the second it was free you rushed towards it and placed a few stray coins into it. “You go first.” Simon smirked taking a step back and watching you curl your fist. “Ay…” He caught your wrist before you could swing. “You’ll hurt your hand like that… like this…” He fixed your fist and then stepped back. “Go on. Hard as you can.”

You threw a punch and laughed as you watched the numbers fly up. “Ow~” You shook your hand from the impact Simon gently held it and brought it up to his lips to kiss softly. “Not bad, you know.” He nodded at the numbers that flashed on the screen, proudly announcing your score which didn’t beat the record. “Now, out the way…” He struck your rear in a firm slap. “Let me show you how it’s done.” Pressing the button, the ball swung down again and Simon eyed it for a moment.

His punch was loud, making the ball bang loudly as it swung back. You laughed and watched as the numbers rapidly climbed and climbed. A squeal of delight found your throat as the record was beat and then some. The text of the screen flash proudly the new record way into the 1000s. “You did it!” You squeaked and rushed towards him. Simon laughed collecting you into his arms as if a prize he’d just won. “I’m so impressed.” “You should be.” He laughed and held you close for a moment longer and then settling you back onto your feet.

“Well, you’ll really impress me if you can win me something from that machine…” You pointed over to the claw machine and he huffed. “Fine. But you’re paying.” He pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead and then stalked over.

As the sun was setting Simon brought the two of you fish and chips, you sat happily munching away with the stuffed toy he had won from the claw machine between your legs. A cold shiver ran down your entire frame then. Now that the sun had set a cold breeze was setting in. From beside you Simon observed the way your skin prickled and your shoulders shook softly from the chill.

“Bloody hell…” Simon knew that you’d be too stubborn to speak up and instead of fighting you on it just removed his fleece and handed it on your direction. “Here… before you get hypothermia.” You were quick to climb into the warmth of his fleece, enjoying that way that it smelt of his strong cologne and just of him. “Thanks.” You mumbled softly as you continued eating your chips.

You knew the comment was coming and simply smiled when he said. “Told you to bring a jumper.” Then glancing in your direction. “Just knew that you’d get cold.” A giggle slipped from your lips. “You’re always bloody cold. Like being next to an icicle at night, one that puts their bloody cold feet on you.” It would always rile him up when he was just dropping off to sleep and your cold feet you find their way onto his body. It was jolt him right back awake. “S’not funny.” He grumbled as you giggled and leaned into his side.

“I am always cold and I’m so lucky to have someone so warm and caring to snuggle up to.” You giggled and glanced up at him. “Besides, I knew a really good way of warming up~” There was that same playful lilt to you voice which let Simon know he was in trouble. “How much space do you think there is in the back of the car…” Simon smirked and responded. “Why don’t we find out?”

Night had drawn over completely and the car park was practically empty as you bounced on his rigid cock, from this angle you were hitting all the right spot, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with every slam down against his lap, whimpering and mewling into his throat as Simon clasped desperately at your waist. “C’mon pretty girl…” Those strong hands clawed hard to slam you down filthily onto his cock. “S’fuckin’ tight… Fuckinghell…” Simon’s voice was practically a growl as his fingers dug into your soft flesh.

By now your thighs were burning, but you didn’t care. It was a perfect ending to this amazing day. The two of you wouldn’t have been able to survive the journey home and besides now you would avoid the traffic.

“S’close, Simon~” You cried softly, burying your face into his throat. “S’fuckin’ deep… Ohgod… C-can I… can… I please…” “Yes, baby.” He confirmed, his hand disappearing between your body so his thumb could rub your swollen clit so softly before grunting as he felt your body swiftly fall over the edge, walls pulsing and body shuddering hard in his grip, even as you body tried to lock tight his hands continued to use your body, bouncing you and extending your pleasure as much as he could. “Goodgirl… good girl… give me everything, babe… goodgirl… Such a pretty girl when you cum…” He praised in your ear causing you to mewl and moan sweetly. “My sweet little thing… cumming of my fuckin’ cock… makin’ such a mess… goodgirl…” He coaxed his hand down your back soothingly.

There were little noises of effort as you continued to bounce on his cock and Simon smiled at how beautiful you looked. “Need your cum…” You whispered breathlessly, using what little effort you had left in your body to try and milk some from him. “Yeah, you need it?” Simon grunted out, glancing down between your bodies to watch his cock disappearing into your tight hole over and over again. “Need it…” You whined, gripping at his shoulders and pressing down harder. “Use me… Give it to me…” You whimpered leaning in to kiss him. “Please~”

He took that as permission to grip at your hips and begin to slam you down recklessly on his cock, using your sweet body for all his pleasure. “Feel… fuckin’ good, babe… won’t last… long…” He warned and sticking true to his words only lasted a few moments before beginning to shoot his seed into your accepting walls, pulling your frame close so he could hold you as he exploded inside. “F-fuck…” He grumbled, seating you fully on his lap and panting against your throat. “Fuck… that was… fuck…” He chuckled lowly. “You’re perfect~”

“So are you~” You giggled into his throat and he stroked his hands slowly up your back, soothing you sensually. “Let me… just stay here for a bit longer and then… then I’ll drive us home~” Turning his head he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Just rest, love.”

Masterlist | Ask | 23-09-2023

[judasofsuburbia]

So you’re looking to write some smut but feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure where to start. Smut writing comes easily to some and not others, and that’s okay! Here are some tips I’ve gathered over my few years of writing smut to take with a grain of salt! It's my opinion; you can always do what you want!! <333

It’s fiction writing at the end of the day. So, it’s okay if you haven’t experienced what you’re writing about or maybe you have experienced it but you find it difficult to put it into words. I’ve never fought a creature from the Upside Down but I’ve written about it because that’s what fiction writing IS!! You’re creating a story from your own experiences/thoughts/emotions and applying it to a made-up scenario. So don’t feel discouraged by your own personal journey, anyone can write smut!!

When in doubt, plan it out. When I’m really stuck, just simply grabbing a piece of notebook paper and writing out each event in a sequence, even in the most basic terms, can make things so much easier. For example: making out, blow job, hand job, prep, fuck. Write down positions (sometimes limbs can get lost in the sauce and it is so hard to figure out how they’re actually doing it lmao). Write down settings. Write down if one person is leading it more than the other or if they switch off. Write down desperation levels (personally, I think it’s more fun when desperation is very high but casual fluffy smut is fun too!!) This will help the writing process feel a lot less daunting. 

More specifically, remember that prep is important. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been taken out of a smutty fic because they get to the main act (penetration, typically) way before someone should be ready to. Fingers, mouths, and lube (actual lube or something that can be safely used as lube. Blood is not lube. Blood is not lube as it is a liquid that dries quickly and offers no moisture so it will not help you penetrate anything, as hot as it would be.) Foreplay and prep can be a really good tool to establish a sexy dynamic between your characters and get the reader ramped up to read through to the end! 

If you feel like the action part is getting too technical, this is where you can add in thoughts and emotions that will give your smut some personality. It can feel very silly to write, for instance, your character A thinking “Wow character B is so hot” but it’s a thought that would probably cross their mind!! Write out any nerves the characters are feeling or maybe even the confidence they’re feeling. Write out what sensations they pay attention to. Write out what they like and dislike. Write out what actions cause an immediate response from them (moaning, bucking their hips, groaning, eyes rolling, etc.) Write out how your character would verbally respond (Are they dirty talking? Are they praising? Are they degrading? Are they stuttering through their words? Are they incoherent because the sex is so good?) It’s important that your characters still feel natural and not like sex robots. Unless your story is about sex robots, then go off!!!

The thesaurus is your fucking FRIEND!! Smut can feel ridiculously repetitive, especially if you’ve written it before. I say every time I write a blow job scene that “god blow job scene is blow job scene is blow job scene” because that’s how it FEELS! Use your resources like the thesaurus or there are a million posts with other ways to say “said”, ways to describe a kiss, etc. Just be careful that you don’t fall into using words that seem unnatural to the flow of the story (for example, a lot of synonyms for cock are simply…unsettling and can take your reader out of the story). Find ways to creatively tell the same action again and again which leads to tip #5…

Go read some smut. The tag “porn what plot” is so unbelievably helpful. Even if the writing isn’t exactly your style or your preference, sometimes reading someone else’s descriptions of sexual acts can be helpful if you’re lost! I have a few faves that I go back to read to get inspiration and I have notes about what it is specifically I enjoyed about their work. While you’re at it, if a fic inspires you and you feel comfortable doing so, leave a comment! It’ll make the author’s day, I promise. 

TAKE THIS TIP WITH AN ABSOLUTE GRAIN OF SALT but…go watch it. Or my personal preference, go listen to it. If I’m really lost, I’ll seek out audio porn that follows the same ~vibe~ of whatever I’m writing. There are many websites for this but Soundgasm is my go-to (it’s a free upload site so there are THOUSANDS of sounds and varying quality levels so it might take a second to find what you’re looking for)! Even a sexy playlist on Spotify can put you into a good headspace for writing. Just make sure you’re being safe and looking out for your own comfort levels. Never put yourself in a situation to experience something triggering for the sake of writing a good story. 

All of this to say, it is so different to write smut than it is to write a regular plot. It can feel incredibly daunting to go about it and find the perfect balance between technical actions and thoughts/feelings/dialogue and then make it all cohesive in the end. It’s hard to do but it’s not impossible!