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pandoraslxna · 10 months

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Sweet like Cherry – Chapter 2

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 6.5k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, bullying, teasing, sexual tension, virginity, fingering, masturbation, dirty talk, dom/sub dynamics, nudes, corruption kink, slight praise and degradation / humiliation, daddy issues, age difference, authority kink, alcohol consumption, edging

Notes: I wrote this during the worst writers block ever, so I feel like there’s still so much left unsaid in this chapter, ugh. Whatever. I still hope you guys enjoy it! Also, please don’t get confused but I’ve decided to switch the pov between Miles and Cherry every other chapter so the story can be seen through the eyes of both of them.

The first time you could remember being called a nerd it had been as an insult. Of course.

The term exactly used was ‘stupid nerd’ after you had refused to give the answers to a biology test to the rest of the class in highschool. You could handle being called names, it wasn't that much of a big deal. In fact, you were a nerd. There was no way around it. No matter how many times you insisted you had been to any party’s on the weekends instead of studying all night long or that you had made out with that definitely-not-imaginary-boyfriend after school, you were and you would always be a massive nerd.

Nothing to be ashamed of, honestly. It’s what had gotten you this job, after all.

Driven to succeed starting from a young age, you had excelled academically, earning top grades and winning numerous awards. You‘ve always been particularly interested in science and botanic, and even pursued a degree at a prestigious university.

After graduation, you set your sights on this rare opportunity to work at a highly coveted research lab, one that only a handful of people in the world had ever been invited to join. Over the years, you worked tirelessly, taking on increasingly complex projects and earning the respect of colleagues and superiors.

Spending long hours studying, researching and practicing your skills was the reason why you ended up being one of the candidates that were considered for this job. And when the time came to apply, you submitted a flawless application that showcased your brilliance and dedication.

Yes, you were a nerd. But in the end, you had beat out hundreds of other highly qualified applicants for the chance to be send to Pandora, working for the RDA‘s botanical scientific team.

So, it wasn't like you didn't like the word. The only issue was, that it brought back some unpleasant memories you thought that a twenty-five year old adult should have already been over.

But the first time someone on Pandora had called you a nerd, you didn't come back to that memory. No, your mind was entirely too focused on taking in the sight and presence in front of you to even have time to go back to that place, back to the time in school when people thought intelligence was a reason to bully.

The main cafeteria was as cramped as usual, soldiers as well as scientists taking in their meals in the spacious hall. It was well-lit and ventilated, with long tables and benches filling the room that almost reminded you of the cafeteria at your old university back on earth.

The food options are diverse, thankfully. Ranging from traditional earth cuisine to exotic dishes from Pandora. The atmosphere was bustling, with conversations and debates taking place between colleagues, while others sat in silence, lost in thought. Despite their differences, everyone seemed to be united in their shared mission on Pandora, which was something you realized right after your arrival on this planet a couple of months ago. It made you feel like you finally belonged somewhere.

Poking around in what looked like pasta, but was actually some green-yellowish-vegetable, you absently listened to your coworkers wild discussion about a topic that seemed pretty much endless to you.

Maggie‘s latest success of exchanging phone numbers with Phil from floor 3.G. A computer engineer and now basically the talk of the town. The town being you and a couple of female coworkers your age that often shared lunch together, but otherwise barely interacted if it wasn’t work related.

Apparently, it was a rather big deal for Maggie to finally get into Phil’s pants, because, and I quote, "it’s been forever" and "I almost feel like I will revert into a virgin back again if I don’t get laid anytime soon" followed by cheerful laughter and agreement of the whole group.

It was weird, you thought, how people act as though not getting laid is the worst thing that could possibly happen to a person. You, honest to god, could not care less whether or not you will have sex in the next century, much less the next couple of years.

Deciding that you’ve heard enough nonsense for the day, you packed up your lunch and excused yourself with a polite smile.

Lost in thought, your feet tapped on the floor as you waited for the elevator doors to open, so you could travel up to the main lab and continue your work in peace.

Sure, the other scientists were nice and under other circumstances you would maybe even consider them as more than just coworkers, you think to yourself. But you weren’t here to make friends.

The doors then slide open with a ding, cutting off your train of thoughts before your eyes fall on the wall of blue muscles and green cargo pants that were about to exit the elevator, stopping yourself just in time before you ran into them.

These must be the recombinant soldiers all of bridgehead city was talking about lately, you thought. They looked like Na‘vi, almost identical like the ones you’ve studied in books and seen on photos, when the head of security advised you and the others on your very first day on Pandora. You knew Na‘vi were inhumanly tall, but these guys were god damn trees! You had to crane your neck all the way up to even look at their faces.

Your eyes fell on the soldier standing more in the front than the others, spine straight and chest puffed out like a leader. His skins was a midnight blue, with faint, bioluminescence dots all over his body, barely visible in the bright daylight. His eyes immediately landed on you as well, bright like stars and boring through your very soul, like you were an insect that landed on his windshield.

You were so lost in your admiration of the foreign view in front of you, that your feet decided to grow roots underneath your soles, instead of showing proper etiquette and stepping aside.

"Move it, nerd", the recom suddenly said, his voice low and thick and more like a deep, annoyed grumble than anything else. The soldiers behind him begin to chuckle as you quickly scrambled to the side so they could finally pass. Even though he was quite tall, he seemed to move lithe and with grace. Silent, even with heavy combat boots and packed full of military gear. His tail gently swaying behind his back and ears laying flat against his head, he reminded you of a cat.

A big, blue cat.

"At least these damn science pukes never change", you heard the same blue soldier say to his companions before the elevator doors closed right in front of your face, leaving you alone with the reflection of your dumbstruck expression in the silvery reflection.

Colonel Miles Quaritch was the one you’ve crossed paths with on this day. The one who’d called you a nerd, followed by the extremely creative term 'science puke'. Of course you had heard about him, heard his stories, told by soldiers and scientists like he was some kind of myth or legend. And maybe he was.

Until this day, you still don’t know what exactly it was, that made him so incredibly fascinating to you. At first you thought, that maybe you were just mesmerized by the first Na‘vi-like humanoid you had seen in person. They were pretty, no doubt. Exotic. But then again, you weren’t really interested in any of the other recoms.

It was just him.

Cold logic told you that the most sensible thing to do right now was forget about him.

Miles Quaritch was a man of authority. He wasn’t just a guy, like Phil from floor 3.G was just a guy. Not just any man on this moon, not just any man in his mid twenties that you should consider more appropriate and fitting for a woman like you.

So maybe it was the fact that he was older. Old enough that if you would dare to say it out loud, the thought that you think of him as attractive, people would throw concerning looks at you and maybe even scrunch their noses in disgust. Old enough, it would send your mother into a coma.

There had to be some rule against woman finding men around their fathers age hot. Men whose authority made them ten times more attractive. Men that were exotic and alien and blue and tall and— There had to be some law that– that could protect you from the dangerous man that Quaritch was. There had to be something in the books about dealing with this.

This being the pounding in your chest whenever you thought about the Miles Quaritch being the one to pop your cherry. A thought that had never crossed your mind before, not in all of your twenty five years of living, and not with any other man you’ve met before.

Since that day, you kept seeing him and his squad almost daily. Usually, it was just the two of you walking past each other in the hallway, him entering the cafeteria just as you left or watching him get on a samson helicopter from the giant floor-to-ceiling window of the upper laboratory. He definitely was a busy man, never lowering his gaze enough to acknowledge you or literally any other human.

You might laugh if you weren’t feeling so…conflicted, right now. Honestly, how the fuck are you supposed to keep going about your business as usual after this? Making you feel the way he does and then having the nerve, the audacity, to pretend like he hadn’t just thrown your whole world for a loop?

And that’s the painful realization that finally hit you on this tuesday night, after a hot bath with a side of one or two glasses of wine. Okay, maybe three.

To him, you were just one of the many unimportant nerds on this stupid moon, blending into the background like you were part of the interior design.

The third— no, actually it was the fourth glass of wine that you emptied with a final, big gulp. It had a sharp flavor that made you grimace when you were still at your first glass and burned your nasal passages in a similar way to horseradish. But now it was bearable. It’s not like you had any other choice than to drink this overly expensive pandorian wine, made from grapes that were sown and reaped on the soil that was soon to be the new home of mankind. Definitely not worth the price of thirty bucks for a bottle, though.

Turning around in your bed, you sat the glass down on your nightstand. Glancing around, your eyes fell upon the polaroid camera, your camera, perched on the chair by the small wooden desk. Memories come flooding back as you looked at it, reminding you of home and the countless moments captured by the instant camera.

You could almost hear the sound of the shutter and the whirring of the film as it developed. A sense of nostalgia washes over you as you remember the familiar faces and places immortalized by it. For a brief moment, you feel as though you had transported back to your childhood home, surrounded by the warmth and comfort of your family. It was a gift, the old thing. Meant to capture photos of the new world, friends and moments with a loved one. Someone your family, and maybe deep down even yourself, were hoping you would finally find here.

With a sigh, you shook your head as if that would shake off those thoughts. But the harm’s already been done and your interest has already been piqued.

The only guy in this city, on this damn moon, that you were maybe just a teeny-tiny bit interested in, would most definitely never notice that you even exist. You were certain that even if he magically decided to do so, he wouldn’t even find you attractive, let alone interesting enough that you would truly capture his attention for more than two minutes. Your confidence was further undermined by your tendency to overthink and second-guess yourself, making you feel even more inadequate.

If only there was a way for him to acknowledge your existence, to know that there was someone who’s interested in him, without the further embarrassment and humiliation of him knowing who exactly you are and having to stand in front of this giant blue man, and possibly his whole squad too, and confess whatever feelings you harbored for him. Feelings you couldn’t really put a name on just yet.

May it be through the fifth glass of wine and the fact that drinking always lead you to things that never turned out good -the main reason why you thought you had quit drinking at all- or call it faith, but somehow your gaze lands on the little polaroid camera once again. God, it must’ve really been the fucking alcohol screwing with your brain, because there was no way you, of all people, was actually thinking about this.

A man like Colonel Miles Quaritch must’ve been hard to impress. He wasn’t a man of many words, so anonymous love letters wouldn’t do. But he was still a man after all, and if there was one thing you’ve learned in these past couple of weeks (thank you, Maggie), then it was the fact that men were obsessed with the female body and seeing them pop up on their screens at 3am.

But that would require you getting your hands on either his phone number, which you doubted even exists, or his work email, that was probably supervised by someone. A man like Quaritch that was so important to the whole of Bridgehead city really wasn’t an easy target when it came to anonymous messages, let alone nudes that were meant for his eyes only. Which left you with one choice only.

It had to be the old fashioned way.

Being reckless surely didn’t get you into this career path. Actually, it was the complete opposite.

Usually, you were rather cautious and thoughtful in your actions and decisions. You take the time to weigh the risks and benefits of a situation before making a choice, prioritize safety and responsibility over immediate gratification.

Planning ahead and taking steps to mitigate potential risks, rather than rushing headlong into a situation without considering the consequences was more like you.

While you may have not always been the most spontaneous or adventurous type of person, your friends- okay scratch that, your coworkers respected you for your level-headedness and reliability, your sense of conscientiousness and a desire to act in a responsible and considered way.

You didn’t spend half your life being teased as prudent, too careful and deliberate, just to now act like a brainless, horny teenager. Yet here you where, at exactly four-thirty in the morning, sliding a set of carefully chosen polaroids under the gap of Quaritch‘s door.

By now, you knew his daily routines, knew his busy schedule by heart. When he was gone to workout with the rest his squad, knew when he was at the cafeteria and when he was away for a mission. Still, you couldn’t help but glance both ways, making sure the hallway was empty, before you slid them under his door and made a run for it like a school girl placing chocolate on her crush’s desk on Valentine’s Day.

You blamed it on the adrenaline pumping through your veins that day, and also the days after that, but you found yourself laying in bed with a hand buried between your thighs quite more often than usual. Not that you would actually call yourself a voyeur, but there was just something about knowing Quaritch had now officially seen you naked that did something to you.

Miles Quaritch didn't– wouldn't ever touch you, you knew that, was well aware of that even if it pained you. But then again, nobody ever said you couldn't take a deep, shaky breath, slip a hand beneath the waistband of your pyjama pants, and shut your eyes as you touched yourself, imagining it was him touching you, instead. There was no harm in that, really. And you even came to the conclusion that you would be perfectly fine to continue living like that.

In those rare moments you’ve been seeing him during lunch break or the split seconds of passing each other in the hallway, you didn’t note a significant change in his mannerisms. Not towards you or literally anyone else. However, the tension in his shoulders seemed to have loosened up the past couple of days. Not by much, but enough for someone like you to notice. Which could mean two things. One, he still hadn’t figured out that the woman on these anonymous, but very explicit, polaroid photos was you. And two, he didn’t mind receiving them.

This theory was surprisingly proven right just a couple of weeks later.

Unfortunately, in this moment, you weren't as excited about those news as you thought you would be. If anything, you felt like a child getting caught with a hand stuck in the cookie jar, while balancing on a chair that only stood on one leg to reach the top of the fridge.

"Well, well. Look what we have here. If that ain’t my sweet little cherry…"

With trembling fingers, you entered the pass code to your room, the door unlocking with a familiar click to reveal a dimly lit bedroom.

You absently cursed yourself for not making the bed before you had left, too busy rushing out and get to the Colonels room for your daily delivery, hoping he wasn’t back from his mission yet. Luck definitely wasn’t on your side today.

After a long moment of standing motionless in the doorway, you suddenly felt a large palm on your lower back, gentle, yet firmly pushing you further into the room. Your shoulders begin to tense up at the thought of who was standing right behind you, crouching to even fit through the door.

The floor under his heavy combat boots creaked as the Colonel followed you, otherwise silent as a cat. You dared to glance over your shoulder just once, looking back to find him scanning your room like he was entering dangerous territory. His golden eyes almost seemed to glow in the dark, and it send goosebumps prickling over your skin when they landed on you.

Your room wasn’t particularly big, so it only took three or four steps for you to reach the center of it, coming to an halt right in front of your bed before you slowly turned around to face him. You clenched and unclenched your hands into fists at your sides, feeling your fingernails dig into sweaty palms.

Your heart was still racing as Quaritch eyed you up and down. With a sinking feeling in your chest, you mentally prepared yourself for the consequences that awaited you, expecting that you would inevitably face a scolding for your actions.

Your lips parted to speak, yet his voice was quicker to slice through the thick tension in the air.

"Show me", was all he said, arms crossing over his board chest, like a teacher expecting to hear a step by step explanation on how you came up with the answer to a question that was way out of your brand of knowledge.

"W-What?"

The Colonel tsks, but he doesn’t sound all too angry. If anything, he sounds amused. Like this was a game to him, and it made you feel so much smaller next to him than you already were. "How you do it", he chuckled lowly, "Show me how you took these photos, cherry."

His words left you speechless. You could physically feel how your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and words failed to find their way past the knot in your throat. In all honesty, you expected thing to take a different turn here.

The prompting raise of his eyebrows was all that it took for you to plop down onto the edge of your bed.

There was this strange, pulsing sensation in your underwear, hot and insistent— almost an ache, as you stared up at Quaritch with wide eyes.

"Where do you usually put the camera?", he asks ever so nonchalantly, looking around briefly before his eyes bore into yours again and you force yourself to swallow around the lump in your throat.

"There", you point to a chair next to the table in front of your bed. "It has an automatic shutter. Goes off every couple of minutes so I don’t… h-have to get up every time."

The Colonel nods attentively, and then he moves to where you point, one long stride before he sits down right there on the chair. It’s comically small underneath him, his thick thighs spread wide as he leans back and the seat creaks underneath his weight.

"Go on", he urges, his hand gesturing in the air before it comes to rest at this thigh. "Take off your clothes."

A minute passes, and this is too strange for you to be comfortable with. He couldn’t except you to strip down right here, right in front of him. Not with him just sitting there, watching.

You glanced down at yourself with a frown, subconsciously biting your bottom lip in thought.

You never used to think much about how you looked to others. It’s not that you didn’t care about your own body. You cared about hygiene, about a well-groomed appearance. But you had little to no concept of your own attractiveness.

Seeing that you hadn’t moved to obey his command, the Colonel shook his head with another tsk.

"C‘mere", he then said with a sigh, reaching out with his free hand and then grabbed your wrist as soon as you got up from your position, jerking you closer. You swallowed nervously, stumbling and lifting your other hand, bracing yourself against his chest. You blushed the moment you realized the sudden closeness and dropped your hand, trying to step away, but a firm hand on the backside of your thigh wouldn't let you.

"Humor me, cherry", he said, his hands running up and down your thighs, big enough to almost close entirely around them. "I didn’t recall you as being so shy when I’ve got all these photos from you. That was you, right?"

His hands moved up higher, his palms gliding over the soft swell of your ass, reaching for the zipper of your pencil skirt. All hair on your body stood up straight at the sound of your zipper being pulled down.

"Yes, sir", you breathed softly. The Colonel hooks his thumbs underneath the waistband of your skirt, slowly pulling the black fabric down and over your legs. He hums softly as his eyes catch sight of your lace panties, his thumb gently running over the fabric. For a second, your breath hitches and you think he would pull them down next, but then his hands move further up, apparently saving this part for the grand finale. Although they’re big and you expect his fingers to work rather clumsily with the extremely small buttons of your blouse, he opens them swiftly and with dexterity.

The slide down of your sleeves over your shoulders and arms is slow, almost sensually. You shiver once the cold air of the room hits your bare skin. You don’t even know when and how he had opened the clasp of your bra, and it’s only when he makes you lift your arms a little to get it off, that you realize you’re almost completely bare before him now.

The urge to cover your chest overcomes you suddenly, but his hands move faster, snatching your wrists to keep them at your sides. With a warning squeeze, he lets go of them then, in order to let them roam over your body, to admire what was hidden from his sight. Unblemished skin, perky nipples, the rapid rise and fall of your chest synced to your breathing, each one precious, finite. Quaritch’s hand is warm when it runs up your stomach to cup a breast, giving an experimental squeeze that makes you bite down on the inside of your cheek, hard, to stifle a whimper. You should feel shame, you think, as you arch against the warmth of his palm. His thumb brushes over a nipple and your breathing stutters, a mischievous grin spreading over his lips at that.

"This your first time, ain’t it?"

You swallow hard at the question, heart skittering in your chest, as you try to decide whether to put your focus on the feeling of his hand sliding down your waist or figuring out the answer to his questions.

With his other hand, the Colonel traces the outline of your tattoo, his gaze so intense and focused on the fine, red lines, that your breathing soon turns into shallow pants of air. You felt hot. Too hot, as you slowly become aware of the situation you were in.

His hand slides further down your side, along your hips, down to the backside of your thighs, squeezing the soft flesh. This time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper from escaping. Immediately, your hand comes up to cover your mouth. Quaritch smiles at that, wickedly amused. "You're not very good at hiding it. So twitchy and scared. Bit off a bit more than you could chew, hm?"

There came no response from you, besides the shakily exhale of a breath you didn’t realize you were even holding and the red flush of your face.

Quaritch chuckles softly and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, feel it pulsating between your legs.

"Are you into that kind of stuff? Did it get you wet?", he asks with the tilt of his head, "Got all hot and bothered giving me these polaroids?"

The sight of his half lidded eyes staring at you sends a thrill crackling down your spine, wild and breathless. Heat pools in your stomach in a way that you’ve never let yourself get so close to before, the very height of arousal. So different from all the times you had touched yourself.

"Let’s see…", Quaritch murmurs with a sharp grin, not even waiting for an answer as he adverts his gaze further down. And then, you feel his hands on your waist again, pulling at the soft fabric of your lace panties– down, down, down, until they pool at your ankles.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, don’t want to see his face as he stares right at your most private parts. Too embarrassed, you just glance down on yourself, too.

"Oh, it did! Look at that", the Colonel exclaimed with a chuckle, and your eyes follow his, to where a wet patch had formed on your underwear. "You really are something, aren’t you? Got myself a little exhibitionist, huh?"

Words were still caught up in your throat, so all you could manage to do in place of a verbal response, was look back at him with a flustered face. He clearly meant to tease you, maybe even humiliate you, so why did his words turn you on so much? Your thighs almost automatically pressed together in desperate need for friction.

Quaritch’s hands are large and rough, fingers long and thick. Perfect and so incredibly warm against the skin of your lower abdomen as he slides a single digit between your thighs. His knuckle brushes against your clit, forcing a breathy moan through your lips as he drags his finger back and forth between your folds. His other hand goes tight around your hip, fingertips digging into your inked flesh in an effort to keep you right there, sensing how your knees begin to buckle just from a simple touch like this.

"You’re dripping", he coos, pulling his finger back up for you to see. "Look, that cute little pussy‘s getting wet so easily."

Nervously biting the inside of your cheek, you lock your eyes on his digits, glistening in arousal, and the sight makes more wetness pool between your thighs.

"Now show me", Quaritch all but orders, "Show me how you made these photos. I want to see you touch yourself for me, cherry."

The given nickname he used on you made you blush. The first time you head him use it, earlier, you thought you might have misheard. But now you finally realize that he had really called you that. Cherry. Clearly an innuendo to your tattoo.

Nodding, you step back until your heels touch the edge of your bed and then settle to sit right there. It felt strange, being watched like that. Quaritch leaned back in his chair, making himself comfortable for the show that he was hoping you would soon put on for him.

With a shaking breath, you leaned back until you laid flat against the soft mattress. Angling your legs up, you can’t bring yourself to spread them right away. Instead, you close your eyes and imagine yourself alone in your room. It’s easier to get yourself in the mood without the thought of his eyes on your naked form, watching so intensely.

In your head, you try to remember what to do. It wasn’t like you haven’t already done this before, like you didn’t know how.

There was no denying that you liked to touch yourself, late at night when you were quite sure everyone was fast asleep. You‘ve always spent your days with your mind full to the brim with various theories, studies and seemingly endless responsibilities, so much so that you often found it difficult to empty your mind for sleep. Sometimes you would recite the na’vi names of plants to yourself in your head ("Panopyra, Pamtseowll, puríhsa..."), over and over, like counting sheep, trying to memorize their names. But some other times you simply preferred another method of relaxation.

So, it wasn’t like you didn’t know what to do. It was just, that this was the first time someone was there to watch you doing it, and it felt like your brain was close to a short circuit.

Swallowing down the nervousness as best as you could, you let your hands run down your curves, feeling the soft swell of your breasts, over your stomach and down between your legs.

As you part them, ever so slowly, you hear Quaritch groan in approval. Still, you try to ignore it, focusing on the warmth of your skin instead, feeling your own arousal as you glide two finger through your folds.

Instantly, there’s this sensation, hot and burning and you allow it to rise within your core — allow it, and welcome it.

The slick, wet feeling gives you a gratifying sense of accomplishment, fueling you to circle over your clit, gentle at first, but slowly adding more pressure over time. Your other hand clasps over your mouth, barely able to stifle a moan as the other finger that had been teasing your entrance slowly slips inside.

"Don’t you dare cover your mouth." The Colonels voice makes you clench, which causes you to inhale sharply. "I want to hear you."

It takes every ounce of confidence you had left in yourself, to finally pry your eyes open and look at him from your current position, while you slowly lowered the hand from your face.

Quaritch was still sitting there, on his seat across the bed, unmoving. His irises had turned into slits, reminding you of a cat when it’s hunting a mouse. A metaphor that couldn’t have been more fitting.

With his thighs spread and his hands lazily resting on top of them, you actually found it quite surprising that he wasn’t… touching himself, too. Deep down, you were probably hoping he would do so. Were even a tad disappointed that he didn’t.

You could clearly see the bulge under his tactical cargo pants, could only imagine the way his cock must throb underneath the restriction of the fabric, and your mouth begins to water as your minds eye provides you with vivid images of him in all his glory. You wondered what he might look like. Did the color match the rest of skin? Did he had stripes and freckles?

Breathlessly, you feel your head dip back further, as you recognize the heat slowly building, radiating from your core. Gyrating your hips, the feeling of wetness and pleasure builds within yourself, enough to make your hip buck up against your own hands.

"Wanna know what I’ve been wondering?", Quaritch asks and it takes you a second in the haze of your mind, to proceed what he had just said.

You nod, once.

"I‘ve been wondering what you were thinking about while taking all these dirty pictures for me."

You’ve never thought hearing someone’s voice would turn you on this much, but here you were, dipping your middle and ring fingers past your tight entrance, gently but firmly making their presence feel inside. They’re surrounded by that slick, growing warm feeling as you press them in further, just barely curling them up. It’s tight, too tight, you’re afraid you‘ll hurt yourself if you add another.

You hear him chuckle, low and deep, as you exhale shakily. Then his eyes travel lower, pointing to the space between your thighs, were two of your digits were now buried deep, "What were you thinking while you stuffed those pretty fingers into your cute little cunt, huh?"

It takes a few tries, the tension slips for a moment or two, but soon, you find the right angle to allow your slippery fingers to caress the spot you‘ve been seeking.

"You. I was…", you swallow thickly, "thinking about you."

"Bit more specific, cherry."

More pleasure begins to wash over you, not unlike waves washing ashore, as you build up the tension your body craves you to chase. His words clearly meant to tease, sent your heart a flutter, legs flexing and bending, hips pressing into the mattress, back arching as your head once again dips back and the ministrations of your fingers find a sensual rhythm.

You curl them up, dragging them along your soft, spongy walls and you moan, gasping and panting, "I was imagining what you would do with my photos. If– If you’d like them. Was thinking about you… jerking off to them, t-too."

"S‘that so?", the Colonel snickers. You hear the sound of fabric, rough hands running up and down muscular thighs, a chair creaking again, as if he repositioned himself. "Well, you’d be more than happy to hear that I did have a good time with these photos then."

Your toes curl tightly as you approach what might just be the state of bliss you‘ve been seeking. The verge of Nirvana, quite literally, at your fingertips. Inhaling sharply, you feel that pleasure intensify and spread throughout your entire body. Your toes curl tighter, though you’re only vaguely aware of it for a moment.

"F-Fuck", you gasp, fingers speeding up their pace, faint squelching sounds reaching your ears and distantly, you feel your own slick run down the curve of your ass, soaking the sheets below.

"Language", Quaritch hisses and your hips rise as if trying to chase the source of his voice.

"S-Sorry, sir", you all but moan, "It’s just- I‘m close, so close!"

"Yeah? You’re gonna make yourself come?"

You can only nod your head at that, face flushed and teeth biting into your lower lip to prevent yourself from moaning entirely too loud, embarrassing you further than you already were. God, you were a mess. You didn’t know if it was truly as humiliating as it felt, to be bought to the edge within minutes, just from touching yourself in his presence.

The sound of your whines and moans start to increase in volume the more pressure you put on your clit, moving a finger over that little bundle of pleasure in fast, tight circles.

You’re so close. So, so close. Almost there, just a little more. More. More. More. Right there—

But then the sound of a voice, a voice of sheer authority curses through your entire being, haltering your movements and slowing them down as if he had a firm grip on your wrist with his words alone.

"Didn’t recall giving you permission, though. Try again."

With a sound somewhere between a frustrated groan and a high pitched whine, you begin to chant pleas like they are prayers, "May I cum? May I please cum, sir? Please, please, please!"

You curve your finger a little more and pick up the pace again, thrusting them faster with every word, every plea, until tears begin to prick and the corner of your eyes and your back arches off the bed, twisting and trembling from holding it in. It was all heat and pleasure. All those sensations, thoughts and emotions. Everything so close, but you just couldn’t reach it. Not yet. You felt like a puppet on a string, waiting for him to pull the right thread and help you to your release.

You’re right on the edge, right there. Hell, you‘d been on edge for the last couple of months. The moment Miles Quaritch had entered your life, you had been on edge, and today might just be the day everything goes to hell.

"Good girl", Quaritch purrs, the sound coming from deep within his chest, so full of satisfaction as he finally granted you the permission to, "Go ahead then. Come for me, cherry."

The gasp hadn’t even fully left your throat and you were a little more than just a trembling, incoherent mess by the time you came, clamping down around your fingers and pushing them in as deep as they could physically reach.

The squelching sounds your orgasm coaxed out from between your thighs filled your own ears, growing louder by the second. It was only overturned by the sound of blood rushing to your head from holding your breath until the first wave of electricity shocked through every fibre of your being.

Then, the blissful sensations of sexual gratification engulfed you. You felt the pulse of your throbbing clit right underneath your fingertips, velvety-like walls tightening around your digits in pulsating waves, intensifying the sensation that dared to consume you whole.

For a timeless moment, there was nothing but pure, unadulterated bliss, with stars dancing behind your eyelids and a sound close to the static white noise of an old tv in your ears, before all your sensibilities gradually returned to you like a balloon gently floating back down to earth. Your whole body was buzzing in the afterglow of your orgasm, so intense it surprised you that this was all done by yourself. The internal buzzing seemed to be loud enough for you to overhear the distant sound of a door, your door, closing shut.

You didn’t even notice how tightly you had squeezed your eyes shut, until you slowly opened them again.

As your shaky, thrilled body slowly rises and you prop yourself up on your elbows, it finally clicks within your mind that you’re alone. You blink a few times, glancing at the empty seat in front of your bed.

He’s gone.

He had left, the man that was just there, the man that had been staring at you, watching you this entire time, like you were a sample in a laboratory for him to analyse, an experiment that he wasn’t sure turned out quite right. But his eyes, his eyes that were looking at you so intensely, had been… there had been something. There was something in them, a spark that you surely didn’t just imagined. Sometimes you couldn’t quite put a name on just yet.

Miles Quaritch may be an asshole, but he didn’t just play with you for the fun of it, watched you come undone in your room, on your bed, your safe space, with your legs spread wide like you would do that for just anyone and then leave.

But he did.

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 1 year

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Chapter 105.5 Thoughts: Control, Manipulation and Partnership

Or, how Chuuya is actually the most qualified character to land a victory over Dostoevsky.

I just want to preface this with: I think Chuuya has woken from the brainwashing. We can't see his eyes, he's holding his hat again, and look at the progression of his face and expression from the last few chapters with him (these are in order btw from left to right).

I'm not completely sure how he did this, but I chalk a lot of it up to sheer stubborn determination on Chuuya's part, mostly because it's funny and he was clearly fighting back before Dazai's speech. However, I find it likely the speech did contain some kind of code - others have pointed out how "Goodbye!" might be a reference to the original author's last unfinished book and we know skk's codenames for things generally are based off their real counterparts' works so, maybe he'd already broken out of it, maybe there was something in there that gave him the final push - who knows at this point honestly? Either way, it means Chuuya had the capacity to break out of the vampire curse on his own and that's incredibly funny to me for many reasons but mostly:

Fyodor: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's ability can't overcome flooding."

Dazai: "Bold of you to assume Chuuya's personality can't overcome brainwashing."

But really, this highlights something interesting here, both in what Chuuya's role is ultimately intended to be in this arc, and in the way Fyodor and Dazai manipulate and value others in very different ways.

I've said it before but it bears repeating: we already know that Fyodor is an excellent long-term planner, while Dazai is effectively able to counter him because Dazai shifts into thinking like his opponent. They're foil characters for a reason; they're both highly intelligent, manipulative, and willing to play the long game for the sake of winning against their opponent.

Thing is, I also stand by the idea that personality-wise, they're not similar at all - and that has serious implications for the people they are connected with. The build-up to the prison escape arc really highlights this. Some examples:

Chapter 46: Fyodor believes that all people are sinful and foolish and that his goal is to remove sin. Dazai believes that all people are sinful and foolish but asks what's so wrong with that.

Chapter 64: They decide to have a "super-happy chit-chat" about their problems. Dazai's solution to Fyodor's issue with his lazy subordinates is to get them to think lazing around is a bad thing so they will put in effort of their own. Fyodor's solution to Dazai being unable to woo the waitress is to isolate her from her job, house and family so that she can only rely on Dazai.

Chapter 77: Fyodor believes god is perfection and harmony, and thus that the people capable of change are the superior ones with most control. Dazai believes god is the accidental and illogical and believes it is the ordinary people who fight and live in that uncertainty who create the greatest change.

So, what's happening here? Fyodor's manipulation is shown to be very exacting and direct. He leaves no room for error and regards people on a hierarchy - God above all, himself as a servant of God's will, and the sinful and foolish humans he has little regard for. Dazai's manipulation involves manipulation of the situation, and is often indirect. It involves people coming to the conclusion he intends for them to on their own. And from his later dialogue with Sigma, we see he doesn't regard the world in that same kind of hierarchy.

Now, look at the way Fyodor picks an item and Dazai picks a person when starting the game. Look at the way Fyodor refers to Chuuya respectfully but brainwashes him entirely and mocks Dazai for not being worthy of "using" his ability. Look at the way Dazai is a complete ass to Chuuya but ultimately lets him make his own choices (begging people to take note of that moment in Stormbringer where Dazai cuts himself off to correct his referring to Corruption as Arahabaki's true power to Chuuya's true power).

So, the actual strength Dazai has over Dostoevsky then, is not really his strength at all, it's the strength of others and their choice and willpower to act in the way they believe is best. It's the only means of getting a leg up on Dostoevsky, otherwise they will continue to go around and around in circles forever.

And Chuuya is the best candidate for finally throwing Fyodor off his game.

Firstly, let's just establish something: no matter how mad he is at Dazai, he's not going to side with Fyodor, not willingly. Fyodor threatened the Mafia in the Cannibalism arc by attacking Mori, first of all. I doubt he's forgiven him for that. Secondly, Fyodor embodies everything Chuuya can't stand about Dazai, at the very least, younger Dazai - the manipulation, the lack of consideration and connection with others, the callousness and lack of regard for life.

Well, perhaps he's not quite as irritating. +1 point for Dostoevsky I guess?

But lastly, it is more advantageous for Chuuya at this point to help fight against Fyodor, especially since most of the Mafia has been vampirized by his organization. Helping the Agency stop the terrorist plot will help the Mafia by extension by undoing that. And we know from Stormbringer that no matter how much Chuuya is personally hurt, he considers taking out the threat to his people a higher priority. Always.

(You could make the argument that he was told whatever Teruko told Atsushi and decided to join, but not only do I find this wildly out of character, but if that was the case then there would've been no reason to brainwash him.)

That said, I don't think this was preemptive "Dazai's master plan #3057", and in fact, I stand by the idea that Dazai had no idea Chuuya was going to be in the prison. It is very, very important to me that for the rest of this arc, no matter what Chuuya does, that his actions are his own. Not Fyodor's, not Dazai's, but his. And not just because I hate that he's being controlled right now and that freedom of choice has always been important for Chuuya.

But because it makes narrative sense.

The vampires are a bit silly, yes, but they represent the way Fyodor and Fukuchi think - humanity will commit atrocities. They cannot be trusted to make their own decisions. They want to make a world that is free by... mind-controlling people so their plans work without a hitch. In short, they choose, on behalf of others, to sacrifice human autonomy for peace. So, if we are going to turn this arc around, we need to have characters breaking out of that control and thinking for themselves, in spite of the uncertainty of the outcome.

We already see this with Atsushi in the last chapter! He finally takes initiative and makes that choice to leave the room when he doesn't exactly know what the right thing to do is. And this is also why I don't think Teruko is wholly convinced by the DoA either - she lets him go. She gives him the freedom to choose what he does with that information.

Another one of the focus characters here is Sigma. Sigma is a guy who has no past, whose humanity is questioned, who keeps being used by organizations for his valuable ability, who has no home but desperately wants one... oh wait. Remind you of anyone's younger self? This could go one of two ways: Chuuya fails to assert his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from that failure, or, Chuuya succeeds in asserting his autonomy, leaving Sigma to learn from his success.

I think it, by necessity, has to be the latter. Sigma's at a tipping point right now, and I think seeing someone try to assert their freedom only to fail would damage him greatly. And I think it's a waste of Chuuya's character honestly.

Chuuya needs to assert his autonomy in this arc. Not just for thematic reasons but because I can think of no one else who can effectively break the "super-genius stalemate".

I keep hearing "Dazai knows Chuuya" in response to Fyodor calling their bond shallow, and that is absolutely true! But Chuuya also knows Dazai. Incredibly well. Odasaku knew Dazai's soul, but Chuuya knows Dazai's mind, knows his strategies and ways of thinking without even needing words. What's more, Chuuya has thrown off Dazai before and done what he didn't expect him to.

Which is nifty, because Dazai and Fyodor think a lot alike. Chuuya is in a unique position to thwart Dostoevsky because he may actually be able to predict him to a degree. Chuuya can absolutely land a victory against him, and it's excellent because it would be completely unexpected to Fyodor, who apparently thinks Chuuya's strength lies only in what his ability has to offer and not much else.

But listen. This also can't be skk's plan. I need Chuuya to sideline both of them. Both for the sweet, sweet catharsis of putting those two idiot geniuses in their places and also because I need Dazai to have screwed up. He wasn't wrong about people making their own choices in uncertainty. People need to assert their autonomy to create change. Dazai can't be wrong in this regard.

But with going ahead with the trap to drown Fyodor despite also having to drown Chuuya when he promised not to let him get killed... this needs to have been a mistake, otherwise the value of Dazai's emotional speech to him is diminished.

I want Dazai to try to laugh it off. I want him to say he always knew Chuuya would escape and then for Chuuya to deck him because "no, the fuck you didn't".

I really think Dazai hoped Chuuya would make it. Do remember that Chuuya was one of the first reasons young Dazai decided to try giving life a chance. The fact that he flashbacked to all his key memories with Chuuya says a lot. But his survival was no guarantee and it seemed very unlikely.

So, Chuuya is faced with the fact that Dazai nearly sacrificed him to kill Dostoevsky and save his new Agency friends.

And I hope he finally gets mad. I hope he finally expresses hurt on his own behalf for once. I hope they are forced to break their status quo that they have carefully maintained by not talking about anything ever. I hope they are pushed to uncomfortable places and that it is Chuuya who finally spurs this development.

Let Chuuya break the stalemate between Dazai and Dostoevsky. Let him shatter the status quo that him and Dazai have kept going for year after year.

Autonomous action in the face of uncertainty is necessary for change.

#am i assigning too much narrative importance in the main manga to chuuya? perhaps #will i stop? no #unfortunately this meta doesn't include gogol which is an oversight because he absolutely has to play a role as well #i'm just not quite sure what yet. same as chuuya i suppose #either gogol asserts his autonomy or he... fails. yeah. either he gets dostoevsky killed or... he fails.#i just don't know where he fits in with everyone else is the thing #listen though. it is significant that gogol decided not to play his dying role in the doa's plan though.#gogol is the free spirit of the doa and yet he's closer to sigma and bram in terms of how he is more controlled than controller #anyways sorry this is so long. just my two cents on the matter #bsd #bsd spoilers #bsd chapter 105.5 #bsd chuuya #bsd fyodor #bsd dazai #bsd sigma #bsd meta #i don't even know if this makes sense anymore. here.#storyrambles

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thatweirdguyinthebushes · 1 year

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breaking bad and it’s themes of toxic masculinity is one of those things that ill never get over. upon first glance jesse is very traditionally masculine, more so than walter, but as the show goes on it becomes clear that walt strives much more for the toxic and self-destructive standards of masculinity, where he must not only be the sole breadwinner for his family but must be acknowledged and praised for being such, where he must be the most intelligent most respected most deferred to of all the other men in his life. his son must respect him the most, his wife must acknowledge and be grateful for the money he brings no matter how he treats her or how he gets that money, his family must be grateful that it was him who provided for them, not strangers on the internet or charity or any of their friends, him. he needs to be acknowledged and respected, needs constantly to have his ego stroked. its one of the reasons he attaches himself so quickly to jesse, because jesse is in desperate need of both parental acknowledgement and a sense of academic achievement. walt takes on a kind of fatherly role, yes, but he's also jesses former teacher, and so his praise comes with a kind of undercurrent of that academic acknowledgement. and also, his relative ignorance at least at first of the technicalities of cooking meth makes it easy for walt to compare himself to jesse and therefore boost his ego. he does genuinely like jesse, but the amount of respect the kid has for him (extending even to the way he addresses him, "mr white", as if theyre still teacher and student) makes him feel superior, which is what he wants. and, as the story later reveals, jesse also has more traits that are stereotypically regarded as soft, feminine, non-masculine. he's highly emotional, much more so than the rest of the cast, and he cries more than every other male character combined. he's very gentle, and enjoys taking care of people, which is evident in the way he treats his romantic partners but also in the way he treats walt, specifically in the episode fly. he likes kids, gets along well with them, and goes above and beyond what every other character does in order to protect them. his emotional nature, especially when children and them being in danger come in to play, is one of the things he is most criticized for by other characters in the show. he's called impulsive and irrational and stupid and rabid, and he's repeatedly punished by the world for how much he cares about things. it seems, for a while, that the world of breaking bad is not only reprimanding him, but reprimanding these traits in and of themselves, saying "Look at what happened to the guy who really cared. Look at all the other male characters. They were all put together and angry and prideful and they cared about no one more than themselves, and they're on top of the world while Jesse is crying in a corner somewhere, because he wasn't a enough of a man." but then, as the story winds further into a close, you see everything play out more clearly. because the characters who are more explicitly masculine than jesse, who keep their emotions together and feed their own egos constantly and comply to the standards of toxic masculinity, all end up dead. gus has to brag in the face of the man who killed his partner, needs the revenge and the gloating and the satisfaction of having ground another man into the dust. mike has to get in the last word against the stupid son of a bitch that fucked it all up. hank has to arrest walt on his own, has to keep his job and his dignity. walt has only ruined his life this much because of his ego, and specifically dies at the hand of his own invention, designed for vengeance against all who wronged him. he offers the gun to jesse and jesse does not take it. he lays it down and instructs walt to do it himself if he wants it that bad. and then he drives away, and he is not stoic or cool or anything like his many foils, he is loud and emotional and he screams and cries and smiles. and at the end of the day, despite the world punishing his open emotion and his love and his gentleness, he is alive, and every other character who disregarded and talked down to him is not.

#breaking bad #analysis #jesse pinkman #walter white #hank schrader #gustavo fring #mike ehrmantraut #brba #better call saul

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vidavalor · 4 months

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A theory about Aziraphale, Crowley, Mrs. Cheng, and high sensitivity

What's up with Aziraphale sensing love in Tadfield and thinking Maggie might be able to hear Heavenly trumpets and with Mrs. Cheng pausing weirdly at the bookshop door before entering The Ball?

What if bad spelling isn't demonic and sensing love isn't angelic? What if Aziraphale (an angel), Crowley (a demon), and Mrs. Cheng (a human) all actually just have the same ability? What if they are all HSPs-- highly sensitive people?

Aziraphale's ability to sense love is something that has spanned both seasons now and I know some people think this is an angelic thing but there's evidence, imo, that it's not. The show has been putting forth a message that angels, demons, and humans are really not that dissimilar. They have different life spans and abilities but they're all under the same kind of umbrella and none are superior or inferior to the other. They suggest this with the symbolism of labeling all of them all as insects (humans are ants, angels are bees, demons are hornets, flies are Beez's department) and as different kinds of waterfowl. Pat's example magic trick of The Professor's Nightmare-- the rope trick-- during The Blitz, Part 2 is also this as well. You have three different ropes that seem like they're different lengths: the big one (angels), the medium one (demons), and the small one (humans) but if you put them all together under the same light and you pull (like the force of gravity, that Gabriel and Crowley talk about in S2), you see them as all the same length.

The idea then is that angels and demons are just like humans, in terms of their needs and wants, and some don't recognize it because their supernatural abilities inhibit their ability to consider why they might also have human corporations in the first place. All of the angels and demons really need to eat and sleep and to not feel alone. Some of them, like some humans, might be interested in romantic love and/or sex, and some of them, like some humans, might not be. Things the show has coded as "demonic" at times-- like being terrible with language-- they also quietly illustrate as not being fully true. It can't be that all demons are terrible spellers who aren't great with words because Crowley is a demon and a literal poet while Gabriel was the Supreme Archangel of Heaven-- and he once suggested that keeping the status quo would keep things "static and, uh, quo-y." Who is better with words: Lord Beezlebub or Sandalphon? Beez, by a long mile, right? But Michael is also better with language than Hastur. The point is that it doesn't matter if you're an angel or a demon or a human-- some people are good with language and some are better with other things.

So, just some of the demons are bad spellers-- which doesn't actually mean anything. There are plenty of terrible spellers who are very intelligent and who are just better at different things-- which is something that is true of humans as well, right? What if we apply those same ideas to the sensitivity thing?

For one thing, if all angels-- or, even, just a lot of angels-- had a high sensitivity to love like Aziraphale does, the end group scene in S2 should have gone differently. The only angels experiencing or sensing love in the bookshop during the Ineffable Bureaucracy scene are Gabriel (who is the one feeling it) and Aziraphale. Being in the presence of love did nothing for Michael, Uriel, Saraqael or even our sweetheart Muriel (who, to be fair, wisely had their nose in a book in the back of the room the whole time but still probably should have been able to sense something if that's actually an angelic power.) The only angel actually overwhelmed by the love in the room is Aziraphale... which is, mathematically, kind of interesting. Aziraphale is one-sixth of the angels in the bookshop in that moment, which equates out to the roughly 17% percent of the human population estimated to be HSPs, or highly sensitive people, some of whom are also empaths.

If you go back to S1, when Aziraphale and Crowley enter Tadfield and Aziraphale starts experiencing love, he says to Crowley: "I'm astonished that you can't feel it." This comment alone might be suggested to say that the high sensitivity that Aziraphale has is something that isn't an angelic ability. By saying he's surprised that Crowley can't feel it, Aziraphale is saying that he knows that Crowley is sensitive in the same way that Aziraphale is. Crowley, too, is then what humans would probably call a HSP. Crowley balks at the suggestion in S1 but we can see in S2 that it's true when Crowley has his version of being overwhelmed sensing emotion and, in his case in that moment, it was waves of distress. Who else experiences it at the same time as Crowley does? A human. Mrs. Cheng.

Mrs. Cheng is the only other character who gets the heebie jeebies during the arrivals at The Ball. Both she and Crowley actually experience it before the demons come up Whickber Street, around the same time. Crowley attributes it to the demons and his own anxiety over Hell circling closer to the shop while Mrs. Cheng gets pulled into Aziraphale's magic and forgets what she felt at the door. Why did Mrs. Cheng feel something when others who came to the door did not? Because she's a highly-sensitive person.

Aziraphale is an angel, Crowley is a demon and Mrs. Cheng is a human. They are all highly-sensitive people. They all have the same high level of sensitivity.

Maggie shown to be a bad speller? Maybe she's just a human who can't spell, like many humans and demons (and angels) are. Why does Aziraphale think she could hear the Heavenly trumpets sounding the arrival of angels? It could just be because Maggie runs a music shop. Maggie is a musically-sensitive human. Aziraphale thought that might make it possible that, if anyone could hear the trumpets, it might be Maggie. He's not really sure how this all works. Aziraphale thinks that if he can feel love between humans then maybe humans that know music well might be able to hear Heavenly trumpets.

Back in S1, we see in a couple of scenes that Adam has what Crowley calls "an automatic defense thing-y" that keeps him from being found-- and seen, to an extent. A shield of sorts keeps Anathema from reading Adam's aura, showing that such a thing is in place and intact. Because Adam is the antichrist, his power overrides the other demons shy of Satan, so the presumption could be made that those of us who think that the reason why it's when they cross into Tadfield that Aziraphale begins to feel overwhelmed by love is because Adam's shield overrode Crowley's own "automatic defense thing-y" are correct because, let's be real, Crowley with his sunglasses and his Bentley has never met a defense thing-y he's never given a whirl. It fails when they cross the Tadfield line and Aziraphale is then feeling Crowley's love for him.

This is also why Aziraphale is overwhelmed by it again at Tadfield Manor. At the moment that he has to stop walking, Crowley is looking up at the place and, inevitably, remembering dropping the antichrist baby off there eleven years earlier and how he was supposed to be with Aziraphale that night instead. He's thinking about his own love for Aziraphale and Aziraphale senses it and has to stop walking for a moment, overwhelmed. Adam does love Tadfield but Aziraphale is not sensing his love for his hometown. Adam wouldn't remember being born in a religious hospital that has now become a corporate bonding retreat and wouldn't feel an overwhelming love for the place that he's probably never actually been inside since he left it as a baby. Aziraphale is sensing Crowley, who has probably had an automatic defense thing-y up for most of the time for millennia because, otherwise, Aziraphale would be in a constant state of near-faint.

Maggie may or may not be more than we think she is. She might wind up yet being some kind of supernatural being but she also might just be a human who is a bad speller and can't hear Heavenly trumpets. Mrs. Cheng may or may not be a mysterious figure with more going on than we think but she also might just be a highly-sensitive human who helps to illustrate a commonality between angels, demons and humans by having the same ability to deeply sense emotion that Crowley and Aziraphale do.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens 2 #good omens meta #aziracrow #good omens s2 #good omens theory #mrs cheng #maggie good omens

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diagonal-queen · 1 year

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What if with an Intelligent s/o who literally outsmarts Fyodor,Dazai(separately) and they Re smiling while The two are shocked😭

Drink water!!and I hope you are healthy mwa mwa

- Literally Anon

i have the iq of a saltine- these two would rip me to shreds lol

An S/O who outsmarts them

♡ pairing: Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Dazai Osamu x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do Fyodor and Dazai react to a reader who outsmarts them? (I guess you guys are playing chess or something idk T-T)

♡ cw: None!

note: This is one of my oldest reqs and I just...never got around to it because I'll be honest I initially had NO idea how to proceed. But I would rather die than disappoint someone who made such a kind request and so I went on and WROTE IT ANYWAY. In your face, my stupid brain. I'm so sorry this took forever anon, I love you too ~mwah~, apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Fyodor:

So...he is speechless for a moment (and maybe for the first time in his entire life), and you definitely notice this

He relaxes after a second and smiles back at you, congratulating you for your skill and intelligence (I really did base this around you guys playing chess I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted T-T)

Fyodor makes some statement on how he's rubbed off on you and while it's admirable to see you evolving, you have a long way to go before you reach his level.

When you eagerly accept such a challenge he's amused but he does find it pretty cute how determined you are to beat him. He doesn't really think you can do it again (at least not very soon) but will encourage you anyway

He's very flattered that you're so proud of yourself for outsmarting him because it reinforces that you look up to him and thus he maintains his dominance (he's got a superiority complex I think)

He doesn't know whether or not he should bring it up to Mykola because on one hand, he could basically flex his S/O and how smart you are, but on the other hand it would also kinda be admitting defeat and he doesn't wanna do that lmao

Lowkey though, his ego is a tiny bit hurt by this whole thing ngl. He likes being superior in specific ways like niche anime intellect lol

But nonetheless he takes it in good stride and looks forward to seeing your intelligence progress in the future.

Dazai:

Dazai just isn't used to being surprised. He's been genuinely surprised like maybe four times tops in the entire canon of BSD. Alas here he sits before you, defeated (dramatic much)

And even worse is that you're so happy about it. You're smiling, not necessarily in a smug way, but just...proud of yourself. Even you seem to know how much of a moment this is.

After his minute of shock is over, his mind immediately switches to 'oh my god, they're the one. my soulmate'

He's like...legitimately emotional about this? In his life where his friends love him but don't understand him, and his foes understand him but don't love him, he's overjoyed to have found someone who does both

Dazai eventually breaks out into a smile too because honestly? He's proud of you as well. He knows you're intelligent but he didn't know you were his brand of intelligent

From here on out he sometimes has a bit of playful competitiveness when it comes to battles of wits between you two but he's not serious about it and might even sometimes do that thing where he purposefully lets you win stuff lol

He also thinks it's really cute how proud of yourself you are for this because it emphasises how highly you see him too (awhh)

All in all, he takes it well! And now you have bragging rights >:)

okay just because i couldn't beat fyodor at chess doesn't mean i couldn't absolutely destroy his ass in mario kart

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lizzaneia-elizalde · 4 months

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What if... yan prince, with knight apprentice reader? Reader's father was the army cheif and she's the daughter who is ambitious, wanting to become just like her father in future.

Where does the prince comes in the story. They are playdates. But instead of playing house they play with swords, bows and arrows. As they grow up, the reader is assigned as his personal guard, but after a near death experience for reader while saving the prince, he realizes that how much more precious his knight is to him. Like a rare treasure. One he wishes to keep himself only.

Ps: the prince was originally very mischievous and childish, dragging reader everywhere with him and getting into trouble as well.

-🌼

Yandere! Male! Emperor x knight! fem! Reader

Finally! This yandere ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

If you've read Eros' story, you would know that there is an Imperial family, and that there is a crown prince which is Yuno, but if you've read Aeron's, there's a new bloodthirsty emperor in town. And, in an ask, I confirmed it's not Yuno. So who is it?

Also, thanks for the other asks, 🌼anon! Even those which are not requests. I've read them all and appreciate them ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

BY THE WAY, HAPPY NEW YEARS! This my gift uwu

Well, let's see, shall we?

Yandere! Emperor name: Callisto (yes, name is from Villains are Destined to Die manhwa (´▽`)❀.)

TW: Misogynism, literal pet names (dog)

Callisto.

Quite the arrogant kid. A brat, someone who thinks highly of himself because he's a prince, and a smug piece of--

Anyways...

Born as the Emperor's fifth child and the third son, he's always faded into the background. That's why he acts up in order to get into his father's radar.

His mother, a travelling dancer, got pregnant by the Emperor when they met at the fare. She immediately rose to become a concubine, and due to her ethereal beauty, Callisto inherited her looks.

And despite not being the crown prince, Callisto is favoured by the Emperor due to his mother being the apple of the Emperor's eye.

So other than being an arrogant mama's boy, what are his redeeming qualities?

Well...

He's smart, and actually politically intelligent. Even though he's still quite young, he grasped the way a monarchy run and how the state is affected by the aristocrats and the Imperial family's decision. He sometimes pipe up to say opinions and queries that even adult nobles cannot comprehend.

Why is this guy not the crown prince yet?

Callisto, having a rivalry with the current crown prince, Yuno, always bullied the boy.

Due to the current Empress being out of favor due to the Emperor's new concubine, Callisto, despite being younger than Yuno for two years, eagerly pushed down Yuno down. Somewhere he apparently belongs.

Everyday, whenever they meet at the academy, Callisto always finds a way to humiliate the boy. Tripping him, ripping his uniform, dumping dirt or bugs, anything.

This created a weird superiority + inferiority complex inside Yuno as he runs to his fiance.

Well, Callisto doesn't care.

His mother asked the Emperor to not give Callisto a fiance yet, saying that he "needs to find true love like how they met each other". When in reality, His mother is cunning, and wants to find a fiance for him personally. Someone easy to rope into their side and not be a perpetual spy for the other princes, princesses, and concubines. Especially the Empress'.

And so, even though Callisto doesn't have a fiance, he does a companion.

From the rigorous trickling of numerous proposals into one, you emerged victorious.

Someone who serves the Imperial Family, but is known to be quite the strong opposition to the Emperor who keeps him checked, the Captain of the Imperial Knights. He's married, and had a family with you as the daughter.

Strong, upright, and righteous, you inherited your father's sense of duty yet the strong sense of camaraderie and service to the people. Same as Callisto, despite being young, you had quite the righteous view of the world. Someone so helpful yet to nihilistic towards the Imperial Family even in a not so direct way.

The first time you two met was unfavorable.

He immediately tossed a sword to your way and without a moment of hesitation, tried to stab you. You parried quite well, making Callisto smirk in arrogance as he hopped back.

He found you interesting. A girl, wanting to be a knight? Preposterous!

Yet, admirable.

He liked seeing you scramble to keep up with lessons.

Sure, you're talented, but that made people hate you more due to your gender.

So, why not help, right?

Callisto would always watch you practice. His eyes never leaving you as you struggled to fight with the misogynistic teacher, the arrogant teammates, and the pressure burdening you.

And, when it got too much, he would interrupt the lessons by tossing a sword to you again and sparring.

It did stop the bullying momentarily, but god did it put you in trouble.

Drills upon drills, they punished you for interrupting the lessons despite Callisto doing it! The reason why it's you? It's because he's a prince, and the son of the beloved Concubine.

Of course.

This made your relationship with Callisto wonky. More like an enemies forced to be together for politics. But in a platonic way.

And years passed...

Callisto, now 22 years old, finds himself watching his stupid crown prince of a brother fumble his fiance as he dances with a random girl named Elisia.

Sure, she's pretty, but he always thought Yuno is head over heels for his fiance.

"Pfft. Such a fucking disgrace." He cracked his neck and got off the pillar to go to his father, the Emperor.

The Emperor is rightfully angry, seeing his son humiliate him over and over again.

"Father, I think you should really reconsider his position now." Callisto whispered, watching as Yuno pull Elisia to the balcony to do god knows what. "Hell, i'd rather have that weirdo of a hero who suddenly appeared one day to be the crown prince."

Callisto frowned as he remembered the man who suddenly appeared in the throne room. Now a Marquis, Aeron is steadily becoming a powerful man, and Callisto intends to bring him to his side once he...

He looked at the Emperor who shivered in fear from the mention of Aeron. He remembered how the Emperor sent that man to a suicide mission. It was honestly disgusting, but Callisto can't do anything other than try to send him party members.

"Yet those fuckers continue to betray him. What the fuck." He mumbled to himself before clearing his throat. "Father, what do you think? I even think Duke Eros is good for the position."

Duke Eros also, an eccentric man. Cold blooded and someone sharp, yet invents these infrastructures and weird devices that pioneers technology. A term he coined. An odd fellow, but Callisto likes the Duke due to being one of the people who can oppose the Emperor without that much backlash and resistance due to his own power and authority.

He's also someone who Callisto needs to look out about.

Honestly, the Emperor is never a good man. He's a greedy man, creating enemies left and right due to his pride and his habit of stealing money from the coffers of the people. Tax money? Pocketed. Jewels? Stolen. Government? Corrupt. Everything is fucked up in his reign that Callisto is having a hard time thinking of what to do.

So, why not usurp the throne?

His mother, who rose to be the Empress, has laid down a path for him. And all he has to do is to follow diligently.

His eyes scanned the ballroom to find his sweet little playmate.

There you are, eyes scanning the crowd for potential threats and assassins.

He felt bad, not letting you know of the plans. But he needs to do this. If he wants you to survive the usurpation, keeping you in the dark is what he needs to do.

The Emperor grunted, finally relenting to his son's will.

"Alright. I'm taking off Yuno from the crown prince position." The Emperor said, rubbing his temples.

Callisto secretly smirked, one of his plans finally bearing fruit.

"Thank you father. That will be enough. I don't think Yuno is qualified to be the next Emperor. He's too... Impulsive, and doesn't see the path you laid down for him." Callisto praised him, fueling the Emperor's Ego and lowering Yuno's reputation more.

"Yes yes... Go forth and call my Prime Minister. I need to discuss Yuno's abdication as soon as possible." Callisto nodded before going away from the ball to call the prime Minister.

Of course, you're diligently following him like the puppy you are.

And yes, you became his personal guard after graduating from the Knight training. Sure, you could have joined the ranks, yet Callisto here asked his father to make you his personal guard.

Not able to reject an order from the Emperor, you had no choice but to comply to his wishes.

"Hey, you're on my side, right?" Callisto asked, suddenly stopping in the middle of the long hallway. The moonlight filtering through the giant windows made an eerie yet despondent shadow on Callisto as you cleared your throat.

"Yes, your highness." You muttered.

"Then, let this be a test if you are actually on my side."

Suddenly, the windows broke, shattering the glass and the protective barrier placed on the palace.

Immediately, you unsheathed your sword and dashed to attack the intruder who crashed through the window. Cloaked with a dagger in hand, he tried to reach Callisto who's only leaning on the wall with his arms crossed.

"Your highness! Please run!" You yelled, pushing back the assassin as you prepared for another collision.

"Nah. I actually want to see this." He chuckled and watched your body move and glide across the hall to fight off this unusually strong opponent.

Callisto's eyes was enticed by the way your form flexed under pressure and under the force of such a strong oponent.

Seeing you struggle and not complain was enough for him.

"Okay, big girl. Come on let's stop this. Just kill the man."

But before he could come up to you and help you stop the assassin, he saw you kill the assassin and look at him in a shocked stare.

It happened so fast.

He felt you grab his body as you shielded him with yours.

Then, a warm liquid spilling onto him.

His eyes zeroed on an another cloaked man with a dagger, stabbing your shoulder.

You slumped down on his.

You felt soft, warm, yet he oddly felt lightheaded.

When he came to his wits once more, he's cradling your body with the cloaked man's body mangled on the floor.

Carrying you, he ran to the royal hospital. He's soaked in blood, your blood.

He felt helpless for the first time as he demanded for one of his servants to call for his mother.

Yeah, maybe his mother would know what to do as you fought for your life.

It felt like a blur as he saw his mother run to him, carrying her heavy gown as she kneeled to him. Oh? Callisto is kneeling? When did that happen?

He felt his mother brush away his tears. Tears? When did that happen too?

Once more, a blur as he fainted.

He feels like he's floating on the sea as he confronted a man. He also looks the same age as him, maybe a bit older. The man looked at him with a smile.

There and then, the man, who proclaimed himself as god, told Callisto that he's the protagonist of a "media". He forgot if it's a novel or whatever a videogame is, but he knows that he's the most favored character of this god.

He scoffed.

"So, if I am the favored one, then why..." His voice shook. "WHY IS MY BELOVED FIGHTING FOR HER LIFE FOR ME?!"

It took almost everything inside of him to admit that he loves you, but he doesn't care anymore.

The god whispered that it's the part of the plot, and that he should just let fate run its course. He assured Callisto that you will be okay.

Callisto nodded, heaving a bit before giving the god a cold glare.

"So, if I am this protagonist, this ever so important character..." Callisto murmured. "I can get away with anything... Right?"

"Right?"

The sheath of a sword, and a heavy, wet plop on the carpeted floor became the backdrop for the sound of victorious yells.

Callisto sighed, cracking his neck as he got out of the castle, and out of the Kingdom to their East.

"Emperor Callisto! What shall we do with the captured servants?" One of the knights asked, and Callisto cleared his throat, thinking.

"Put them in the dungeon back in the Empire. I still have to think on what to do with them."

With the knights bowing, they dispersed as Callisto immediately teleported back to the Palace.

After learning that the previous Emperor was the one who sent the assassins, he almost broke his facade.

It seems that the Empress didn't seduce the Emperor enough to make sure he didn't doubt Callisto.

Yet, he doesn't care about that.

He only cared about the fact that the Emperor almost killed you.

With the guarantee that he won't have any dire consequences due to being the "protagonist", he immediately went to Marquis Aeron to assassinate the Emperor with his sprites.

Aeron gladly did it, giving two sprites to Callisto as they phased through the walls and kill off the Emperor in his sleep.

And, while the chaos of the sudden death of the Emperor, he challenged Yuno to a duel for the throne. Yuno, who just got his engagement annulled and watched as his fiance became Duke Eros', he's scrambling to bring back his pride and dignity.

Yet, the "protagonist" cheat proved right as he won by landslide. Beating Yuno black and blue and becoming Emperor.

His mother, proud as her son finally took the path she intended for him to have, became Empress dowager.

Where are you in this situation?

You were in a coma like state. The dagger, having poison, took a toll on your body. So, you did not witness the way he avenged you and took the throne for himself.

And when you woke up, you only heard of the assassination, and knew he's behind it.

"Callisto! You killed your father?!" You confronted him, appalled. And Callisto, surprised by your anger, only laughed in disbelief.

He avenged you, and you're angry? "Yeah, I did."

"You know that all of the people in this Empire knew you're the one who assassinated the Emperor." You glowered.

"How do you even know that?" Callisto smirked, shrugging as he took a seat on the throne. "They don't. You're deceiving yourself, big girl."

"Do not call me that." Your jaw tightened, eyes in anger and annoyance. "They will know. I just feel it."

Callisto frowned. How dare you say that when he's the protagonist? He's practically invincible.

"Are you threatening me, y/n?" He stood up. Suddenly, he didn't feel like the childhood friend you have. He feels imposing, too far for you to reach, a wall so thick you can't even comprehend.

"I avenged you. I killed my father for you. Those assassins? He ordered for them to kill me." He laughed, eyes wide with annoyance. "And you, a mere woman dares to not see the grace I gave?"

You laughed in disbelief.

DId he just...

"And I do thank you y/n for shielding me. It made me realize something. Your loyalty is something I need by my side."

He held out his hand, holding out for you to grab.

"Be my Empress. You're my most loyal dog. And you have a good eye for politics." Callisto proposed. "I can spoil you greatly, give you riches beyond your dreams. Just be my pretty, loyal, dog, or doll. If you're into that."

You gripped your hand into a fist, eyes ablaze with anger.

"I will not. Women are not mere dogs, nor do I need to say yes to your proposal." You spat out. "And I am not going to be yours. Never yours."

When did he become such a deplorable man? Someone so full of himself? He already was, but at least he's logical and never demeaning.

But this?

"I will correct myself. I knew that the people will know that it's you because you're the only one who is close to Marquis Aeron and Duke Eros, two of the well known opposition to the Emperor before, amongst the Imperial children. And you used Marquis' sprites, which only those who defeated the demon king can wield. And, Marquis Aeron is not the emperor now, but you. HIS FRIEND." You smirked bitterly.

"What? People are stupid! They won't realize that!"

"HAH!" You rasped out. "Even still, it will instill doubt in them. Other than that, I will abdicate myself as your personal guard. Fuck. You. Callisto."

Callisto's eyes widened as you turned your back to him, marching outside with a slam.

When he came back to his wits, he seethed in frustration and decided to take a breather. Anger is riddling him.

But once he calmed down and tried to summon for you, he just heard from your father that you ran away.

He scoffed.

As if you can run away from him.

But you disappeared. With such a meticulous way to vanish, nobody can track you at all.

As if you never existed in the first place.

He felt his body run cold.

Where did you go?

Where did you vanish to?

"Y/N!!"

He went mad trying to find you, tirelessly combing through the Empire without stopping.

It was only a year later that a lead was given.

You're out of the Empire. That's it.

Manic, Callisto decided to do the extreme to scare you out.

Now known as the warfreak Emperor, he reigned fear and blood onto other territories as he decimated every place just to find you.

His blood running cold, his time running out, and his patience running thin,

Once he finds you, you know you can't escape from his shackles. Literal or not.

And he will continue the bloodshed for you.

And this heavy burden and sin will be on your shoulder the longer you don't return to his arms.

#lizzaneiaelizalde #yandere writing #yandere imagines #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic

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david-talks-sw · 7 months

Text

"Bring in the flamethrowers!"

The above moment from The Clone Wars gets brought up a lot to illustrate Ki-Adi Mundi or the Jedi's moral decadence, a fall from grace caused by the war.

Figured I'd point out a couple of things in support of Ki-Adi!

1) Simple answer: the situation called for it.

The Geonosians attacking Ki-Adi were:

enemy fighters

with the element of surprise

who could fly and were thus harder to hit with the clones' blasters, hence why more wide-ranging weapons like flamethrowers were called for, as the clones were getting picked off one-by-one.

Time was of the essence, men were dying, Ki-Adi made a choice.

Wanna know what Jedi choose when a Geonosian isn't actively trying to kill them? They save its life (and get praised for it by their peers).

2) In-universe, the Geonosians are assholes.

From Attack of the Clones - The Illustrated Companion, 2002:

"Geonosians are a physically intimidating race conditioned to live and work in caste-segregated hives. The vast majority of Geonosians are subservient to the ruling caste, and throughout Geonosian society, there is evidence of a biologically engineered class system. Some Geonosians have wings, while drones do not. [...] The blind obedience of menial Geonosians makes them an easily exploitable workforce for the upper classes, who have built a highly profitable business manufacturing Battle Droids, Super Battle Droids, and Droideka Droids for the Trade Federation and its allies."

"For unusually intelligent Geonosians unlucky enough to be born into the lower castes, participating in the games provides the only chance they will ever get to escape the misery of their downtrodden lifestyles and the rigid social expectations of the upper classes. Triumph in the arena is often a hollow victory, however; while lower- and middle-class Geonosians may win the right to talk to their superiors, they can never earn their respect."

Okay, so the winged upper class are obviously elitist bastards, but how is that even remotely relevant--

-- oh. But hey, two of them don't have wings! Those are members of the drone caste, and they're all begotten underdogs, so--

"If there is one thing that unites Geonosians of all classes, it is their xenophobia. A traditionally isolationist species, they fear espionage attempts by rivals eager to learn the secrets behind their latest droids."

-- oh. Huh.

Bottom line: yes, they're sentient... but they're xenophobic, have an elitist caste system, and earn their living by forging weapons that melt your insides or blow up planets.

Now sure, this notion has been explored and deconstructed in Star Wars: Rebels...

... and I'm not entirely sure if the quoted info still holds true in current Disney canon (the lore is from 2002, after all), but if you ask me?

On a normal day, ol' Klik-Klak would be actively trying to murder the entirety of the Ghost crew for daring to even step their dirty non-Geonosian feet on his pure red planet.

3) Out-of-universe, the Geonosians are just "bug aliens". Nothing more.

The production team of Attack of the Clones referred to them as the "termite people". The script describes them as "winged creatures" who are heard "chuckling" once Anakin and Padmé are sentenced to a gruesome death. At some point, the storyboard artists considered introducing the Geonosian workers like you would a horror monster.

Hell, the whole Lucas decided to base them on termites is because his house was besieged by them.

They're not people, which is why they're not designed to look like people. They're purposefully dehumanized so that when one of them gets killed by our heroes, it's ethically "okay" and the audience doesn't need to stop and think "oh my God, that's murder!" or "hey! that's racist" whenever a clone calls one of them a "bug."

A similar logic is applied to the stormtroopers, who have face-covering helmets that dehumanizes them.

Functionally, a stormtrooper is a fascist goon, nothing more.

Same goes for the Geonosian. It's a bug alien, that's about it.

4) The flamethrowers were probably just added because they're cool.

Dave Filoni described how the decision to add flamethrowers came up, and it doesn't sound like George had deeper storytelling motives:

"You know, we're going through the tunnel with the Geonosians and George is like: “Yeah, well, here, we'll have the-- the tunnel and the flamethrowers. Yeah. How about that? ‘Bring in the flamethrowers!’ have Ki-Adi Mundi say ‘bring in the flame throwers!’” And it's like “flame—- What? Flamethrowers?!”" - Dave Filoni, “Return to Geonosis” Featurette, 2010

It sounds like he came up with it on the spot.

The flamethrowers aren't indicative of "the moral degradation of Ki-Adi and the Jedi Order." They're likely just in there 'cause they're cool (and if you've played Team Fortress 2, you know that's true)!

At the end of the day, when it comes to the Geonosians, I think that there's a certain irony to how their story ends.

They gleefully created the battle droids that tore the galaxy asunder and the Death Star, a weapon that enables the Empire to commit genocide... but fell victim to genocide themselves, at the hands of an even bigger monster.

They reaped what they sowed. They're not meant to be mourned.

And it's nice to see this aspect of the narrative doesn't get ignored as much as I would've expected.

I came across this video that basically rips into Ki-Adi for using flamethrowers, and I was ready to roll my eyes when I scrolled down to the comments section...

youtube

... but then, a happy surprise!

Most of the comments disagree with the video's stance! For once, logic prevails over anti-Jedi bias.

So yeah, that put a smile on my face.

#Ki-Adi Mundi #geonosians #geonosis #the clone wars #in defense of the jedi #on the jedi's involvement in the clone wars #tcw #clone wars #star wars #jedi master #21st Nova Corps #commander bacara #for the record: I'm an engie in TF2 not some WM1 Pyro

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 29 days

Note

AITA for exposing some parents' lies in front of their children?

So I ( at the time 25F) used to be a fast food worker in a mall until last year. In the restaurant we had a very eye catchy gumball machine, and families that walk past the restaurant tend to get stopped by children asking for these. Some parents are okay with it but most are not. Those who refuse to get some tend to deal with the situation questionably sometimes. The ones that get on my nerves the most are the parents who expect ME to convince the children not to buy some, as if I weren't busy already fixing their food. It's a small booth so I'm the only worker there and it's hell when it gets busy. However, for the sake of professionalism, I do try and talk the children out of it. "It's not healthy" is my favorite argument, actually my only argument, I can't think of another reason not to buy it. It doesn't work obviously but at least I tried?

The other type of parents that annoy me are the parents who outright lie to their children to get them to stop asking for gumballs. Like "the machine is broken", "it's just for display, not for sale" are the most popular lies I could remember right now. It's none of my business when this happens, even though I don't agree of this method of parenting. Children are my favorite people (if anyone remembers me, I sent the AITA about hanging out with children and ditching adults- so you'd know how much I love these little people) and I hate it when adult treat them as if they were dumb? Needless to say, most children don't even believe those lies and would argue with their parents. "Why keep it there if it doesn't work/ not for sale?"

Now, whenever children argue with their parents, some times the parents would look for someone else to back them up on their lies. They'd look at me and wink. "It's broken, right?" "It's not allowed for public use, isn't it?" And expect me to agree with them.

I really hate it when this happen. They demand that I side with them adults against those impressionable and innocent children??? To commit acts of dishonesty in the face of a cute child that just wants a candy of a certain color? Okay but my issue is the fact those customers demand I lie. Just like I said, I hate doing that because it's like I'm mocking their their intelligence and encouraging bad parenting. The other reason is, I'm a Muslim and lying is a sin, and putting me in a tough spot where I'm forced to sin is uncomfortable and I draw the line at it. I live in a highly religious Muslim area too so it's not like they aren't aware of that either. Like, I'm not claiming to be perfect, I have absolutely lied before and committed other sins, but I refuse to increase my sin count doings something I'm totally against? The third reason is, I'm Autistic so I happen to be very blunt, so I'm not used to lying at all, I'll suck at it if I try anyway.

So here's where I might be TA:

When the parents seek me to help cover their lies, I act as if I don't understand what they want me to do and contradict them. For example they'll say "Hey, the machine is broken, isn't?"

I pull my innocent confused face and say something along the line of "Oh no, it works perfectly fine, just insert a coin to get it to work!"

If they say something like "It's not for sale it's just decoration, right?"

I'll reply with "no of course you're allowed to use it, sir."

And so on.

I had a blast doing that, for once, I get to be slightly rude with Karens who can't call me out because their children are right in front of them so they'll have to admit they were lying. Also I work alone so there's no superior they can report me to, and it's a huge chain restaurant so one sigle bad review will cause no harm and even go unnoticed, but it's not like any parent bothered looking up how to report me since they are so busy trying to get their children to leave, which means I get to do whatever I want. Also management was very nice for a change and they always shot down any complaints about me.

However, I'm not a parent myself so I don't understand their struggle to keeping their children under control.

Anyway, AITA for not lying with them and exposing them in the process?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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accio-victuuri · 12 days

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this is on hs right now. days ago, there was a similar tag with the first lacoste ad. and it is coming up again because of his lacoste challenge. tho most of it is praise, of course, as things with someone like yibo goes, there will be haters. aside from the usual people who can’t handle how he is living his best life: just finished a highly rated tv drama, a movie to be released may 1st, a new endorsement scheduled to be announced, an international campaign etc. but there is also the side of how some people view a person’s ability to speak english as a sign of absolute intelligence.

p1 shows the reaction i would say of international fans too cause we found it endearing and cute. it’s nothing serious. you can even hear the people in that video cheering for him by the end of it. p2 are the toxic shits who are gagging to find something negative to stick to yibo. i doubt people commenting could even carry a proper conversation in english. or they do and feel superior about themselves — which is tragic. some even boasting about their ielts score lol. i’m dying. ielts is a dumb exam. i’m sorry but it is. you can’t tell me otherwise. and like, it was supposed to be a fun challenge. but i guess most c-netizen’s lives are so sad that they have to make everything a test.

why can’t you all be happy that someone is representing your country in a positive way abroad???? why can’t you all just chill. yibo was in that campaign along with really well known athletes + a brand like lacoste. the jealousy is so strong when it comes to yibo. and they should prepare to cry every night cause it will only go up from here. yibo will continue to succeed. 👑

#wang yibo #i know c netizens and toxic shits and paid antis are hopeless and i shouldnt waste my time #but i got really triggered.#trust me a lot of people speak really good english but have no value lol

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beyondkion-blog · 2 months

Text

Rating Resident Evil Men’s Marriageability

Note: I tried my best to be impartial with each of the men, regardless of my personal opinions

Chris Redfield

Pros

Loyal

Protective

Trusting

Wants to see the best in people

Strong

Anti-capitalist

Cares deeply

Prioritizes family

Ass that you could bounce a quarter off of

Cons

Smoker

Prone to bouts of depression

Definitely has PTSD

Drinks to forget

Literally solves his problems by punching

Married to his job

Rude to waitstaff

Keeps secrets because “it’s better for you not to know”

Blames himself for things out of his control

Canonically a bit of a slob

Overall Score: 5/10 - Could do worse, but could definitely do better. High potential of being a stereotypical “straight husband”

Albert Wesker

Pros

Rich

Attractive

Super strength

Super speed

Verified genius

Might destroy the world for you

Looks good in a leather jacket

Natural leader

One of only two RE men to canonically have sex

Cons

Violent sociopath

Might just destroy the world in general

Obsessed with power

Believes himself to be superior to all other beings

Turned himself into a giant worm monster

100% would track your phone

Withholds physical affection as a power play

Overall Score: 1/10 - At best you’ll exist as a bored but scared trophy spouse. At worst he’ll dissect you as part of an experiment

Leon S. Kennedy

Pros

Loyal

Kind

Affectionate

Caring

Silly sense of humor

Protective

Willing to be emotionally vulnerable

Always wants to do the right thing

Soft hair

Trusting

Goes out of his way to help people

Cares deeply about his friends

Strong

Flexible

Tries to make the best of any situation

Dog lover

Drives a motorcycle

Cons

Definitely has PTSD

Prone to depression

Bordering on/alcoholic Degeneration and up

Body belongs to the US government

A little dumb

Should not be behind the wheel

Overall Score: 8/10 - Potential to be an amazing, loving husband with therapy and support, but may fall into toxic or even self-harm tendencies if left unchecked

Carlos Oliveira

Pros

Sweet

Protective

Kind

Physically Affectionate

Supportive

Strong

Cares deeply about the people in his life

Skilled with his hands

Emotionally vulnerable

Trusting

Wants to be the best person he can be

Willing to break laws to help those he loves

Natural provider (acts of service love language 100%)

Verbally affectionate

Sense of humor

Laid back attitude

Gorgeous hair

Respects boundaries

Cons

Probably has unprocessed trauma

Will do Dumb Guy Shit™️

Trusts too quickly

Will throw himself into dangerous situations without thinking it through

Will probably make inappropriate jokes without thinking unless you tell him specifically not to

Likely wanted in multiple countries

Overall Rating: 10/10 - Literally marry this man immediately. He will be a good partner, good husband, and good father. May need reigning in occasionally, but it comes from a place of love

Luis Serra Navarro

Pros

Always has the best intentions

Cares deeply about his friends and family

Tries to do the right thing

Sense of humor

Highly intelligent

Extremely curious

Debonair

Charming

Good dancer

Chivalrous

Book lover

Good with his hands

Cons

Doesn’t open up easily

Tends to trust the wrong people

Smoker

Doesn’t think things through

Prefers fantasy over reality

Doesn’t always keep his word

Self-serving

Unprocessed trauma

Tends to deflect

Overall Score: 5/10 - Potential to be a great partner, but would take time and patience to get there (best outsourced to a therapist)

Jake Muller

Pros

Snarky

Literally designed after male models

Loyal

Will have your back

Affectionate once he opens up

Surprisingly good with kids

Drives a Motorcycle

Self-sacrificing

Looks amazing in black leather

Cons

Daddy issues

Self-sacrificing

Tendency to only do things that benefit him

Takes a long time to open up

Illegal drug use

Wanted by multiple governments

Would need to be forced into therapy if he went at all

Overall Score: 4/10 - German Shepherd partner vibes. Would be forever loyal to you if you broke through his walls, but only to you. Probably wouldn’t stop any (self-) destructive habits of his either

Piers Nivans

Pros

Kind

Trusting

Loyal

Nice to waitstaff

Appreciates good food

Cares about the emotional well-being of his loved ones

Not easily deterred

Cons

Self-sacrificing

Codependent tendencies

Most likely has unresolved trauma

Hotheaded

Overall Score: 7/10 - The potential is definitely there, however - like Chris - Piers winds up with a high likelihood for being a stereotypical “straight husband,” mainly due to his upbringing in a military family

Ethan Winters

Pros

Loyal

Trusting

Kind

Good with kids

Indestructible

Gentle

Protective

Never gives up

Would still love you if you were a worm

Not easily scared

Domestic

Creative

Good under pressure

MacGyver skills

Soft

Self-sacrificing

Cons

Mold

Bad luck

Arguably too trusting

Self-sacrificing

Thousand yard stare

Overall Score: 10/10 - Like Carlos, marry this man immediately. Second only RE man to canonically have sex and the only one to get married. Just hope you don’t have a penicillin allergy

#resident evil #biohazard #leon kennedy #chris redfield #leon s kennedy #carlos oliveira #albert wesker #ethan winters #jake muller #piers nivans #luis sera navarro #luis serra #chris resident evil #re8 village #re4 remake #resident evil 6 #re3 remake #please get these men some therapy #tw sh mention

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communist-ojou-sama · 24 days

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I feel like a lot of people are confused by both the reckless actions of the Zionist Entity on the world stage and the US's continued support of it, even n seeming violation if its (long-term) interests. This kind of surprises me because it seems pretty obvious to me, but I want to take an effort to explain what's going on here.

First, I want you to accept a very general theory of the rise and fall of states. It is a Vastly oversimplified theory meant to be applied very broadly, and it goes like this: When a state is founded and on the rise, it is generally run by people who are amoral but intelligent and competent. Generally these early rulers and administrators found their way to the top of society from a state of chaos and fierce competition of all sorts; as a result, the people who end up on top, even if not the best of the best, are competent and shrewd and, above all, know that their positions are not promised and that they could be overthrown and killed at any time if they do too bad of a job governing. Moreover, this first generation tends to be highly diverse and represent people from all over the social spectrum of the society that preceded it, and above all competence and vigilence is prized.

This sense of internal vigilance and drive tends to be quite strictly impressed upon the first few generations of any given state, and as the state is on the rise, its ruling class, both for the purpose of growing their own wealth and to make government easier, develop a governing ideology and a legitimating narrative to justify to the common people their position at the top of the hierarchy. Crucially, in this initial stage of state formation and growth, the people in charge are pragmatists who understand that their governing ideology is a thing to be used to justify actions the ruling class deems necessary both for their short- and long-term interests, and are to be bent and violated at will if they threaten to get in the way of their true purpose.

Now, while there are all sorts of contingencies to how a state declines over time, I will put forward that the main dynamic that drives decline is the foreclosure of upward mobility and the increasingly jealous guarding of privileges by an increasingly insular ruling class, which is ruled by its governing ideology, to which they subscribe totally and completely. There's more but, let's leave it there for now.

Now, what all does this have to do with the Zionist Entity? Well surely you can see this coming, but what is the legitimation narrative of the Zionist Entity? It is first and foremost settler supremacy and it leads to the top positions in the Entity's military apparatus being occupied by demons like Itamar Ben-Gvir and Yoav Gallant who, drunk on cruelty and a false sense of superiority, have little more capacity for geopolitical reasoning than a wild animal. The reason why the Zionist entity isn't acting rationally in the service of the United States is because the people in power are not rational people, and they will not be for whatever the remaining history of the Zionist Entity is. They won't make rational choices to preserve the future of the Zionist settler edifice because they are uncapable of it; to do so would necessitate understanding Arabs as their equals, and they are incapable of that. As evil as Theodore Herzl and David ben-Gurion were, these demons lack their talents.

So why, then, is Genocide Joe and the democratic party supporting the Zionist holocaust upon Gaza, despite the fact that it is having an utterly apocalyptic effect on the long-term strategic interests and security of the United States? It is for the exact same reason. Genocide Joe doesn't support the Zionist Entity out of some rational calculation, he supports it as a function of his own hubris. Out of the long-term emotional investment he's developed in its wretched existence after many decades of safeguarding it from accountability and facing criticism for it. It really is that simple. The entire US elite, drunk on a fantasy of Western cultural supremacy, is stuck in a state of crackpot realism. I need you to understand that they have no concept that the possiblity of their defeat and the eventual collapse of the United States is a real possibility. And to the extent that they cannot engage with reality, their ability to appraise reality is also blinkered. They can't even see how severe the damage they're doing to the US's standing in the world really is because they are totally oblivious to the reality that in the coming decades the US and Europe will be surpassed in wealth and influence by Global South countries who all opposed the Zionist slaughter, literally no different from the white supremacist "rationalists" on tumblr who try to paint Operation al-Aqsa Flood as some sort of strategic blunder on the part of the Resistance.

The reason why the US is unable to bring the Zionists to heel despite the the whole purpose of the Zionist Entity's existence being as an attack dog for the western powers is because both the Zionists and the USians, having utterly abandoned rational statecraft, have basically forgotten that that's what their relationship is supposed to be. It's that simple.

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goldenblu · 2 months

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lrt (lrb?) but in regards to another idea i had about germa!sanji…

AU where the poison doesn’t work and he’s born without emotions like his brothers and becomes stealth black. he comes across the strawhats while he's on a mission and decides to work with them/use them because their goals happen to align at that point in time (or maybe they don’t align and he means to sabotage them).

he can’t tell the strawhats who he really is so he pretends to be someone else, someone with emotions and morals and a completely normal background, maybe he makes up some sob story so that they allow him to travel with them.

he chooses to play the long game because this is a delicate mission that can’t be solved with brute strength alone. unlike his brothers he can be patient, he can lie and pretend and manipulate, that’s his strong suit, isn’t it? he’s the spy, the infiltrator, the one who is always sent undercover—that’s what he was made for.

so he joins the strawhats under the guise of a cook, not because he likes cooking (he doesn’t, it’s beneath him), but because 1) the strawhats are in desperate need of a cook and 2) it’s so easy and formulaic, just follow a recipe and he’s good to go. he doesn’t get why the strawhats have been struggling so much with it before he came along, what’s so hard about that?

he thinks it’s weird that the strawhats accept him right away. they don’t ask too many questions. when luffy looks at him and decides “you’ll be my cook,” that’s that. it’s like he’s always been there, with the easy way that they make space for him on their crew.

it’s so stupidly naive of them, it almost makes sanji laugh. he reminds himself that he shouldn’t expect pirates to be particularly intelligent, and either way, he’s not gonna complain since it makes his job that much easier.

so he cooks for them, he sneaks away occasionally to meet with his various underworld contacts and maybe do a little light murdering here and there when the need arises, he fights alongside the strawhats whenever he can’t avoid it—not with the raid suit, of course, but he doesn’t need it, he’s got his combat knives and he’s very good at hand to hand.

it’s a bit difficult to explain away his inhuman durability; chopper is always worrying over him and accuses him of hiding his injuries. chopper seems baffled when sanji shows him his unharmed skin and says, look, really, there’s nothing there, you must have been imagining things. or, when he can’t pretend that he didn’t take a blow, he just shrugs and says that his opponent was a lot weaker than they looked.

it infuriates zoro to no end, because how is this random no-name cook so strong? how does he somehow come out of every battle untouched with hardly a single hair out of place? so zoro tries to start fights with sanji, to prove the superiority of his swords over sanji’s knives, and at first sanji mostly ignores him because what does he care about some stupid swordsman’s ego?

but zoro keeps trying and eventually sanji snaps and finally fights back, since this irritating mossball clearly needs to be taught a lesson. sanji wins, and he thinks that will be the end of it, but then zoro just keeps coming back, because how else will he get stronger if he can’t defeat a fucking cook?

(sanji allows it. he’s been getting bored, and at least the swordsman is one of few who can keep up with him. he hasn’t had a good fight like that in a while now.)

sanji doesn’t think particularly highly of usopp, who he labels as a coward. but then again, compared sanji and his siblings, most people are. so when usopp runs to hide behind him, sanji sighs in annoyance but grudgingly moves to protect him anyway because that’s what this person he’s pretending to be would do, isn’t it? he doesn’t actually care what happens to usopp or anything, no matter how much usopp seems to think otherwise.

the first time sanji saves usopp without prompting, he’s momentarily surprised with himself. he didn’t have to do that; no one would have noticed if he pretended he hadn’t seen usopp was in danger. he chalks it up to the fact that he’s protected usopp so many times that it must have become an automatic instinct, which irritates him to no end. but whatever, it’s not like he’s going to be here for much longer anyway.

he treats nami the same as everyone else. one day he walks by while nami is drawing her maps and he offhandedly mentions something about how maps of the grand line are usually terribly inaccurate in his experience which makes it a pain to sail anywhere without an eternal log pose, but nami’s maps seem to be pretty good. and that’s how nami finds out he’s already been all over the grand line.

sanji realizes that he might’ve dropped a bit too much information, but he covers it up by saying he used to work as a cook on a merchant ship, which nami accepts. but after that nami starts working on her maps in the galley a lot more so that she can get his opinion/ask him questions, especially about places that the strawhats don’t stop at, like do you remember if the landmass was shaped more like this or this or are there any islands i’m missing that we would’ve passed by already.

sanji answers as honestly as he can—not because he wants to help her in particular, but because better maps means that it’ll be easier for germa ships to navigate the grand line, so why not? so he doesn’t kick her out of the galley, not even when it really starts to distract him from cooking. nami doesn’t ever say it outright, but he suspects that this is why she gives him a slightly bigger allowance than the others when they go ashore, not that he needs it.

luffy drags sanji places and shows him new things and, most confusingly, asks him to play. sanji scoffs at the notion because he doesn’t play. he’s never played anything, not once in his entire life, he doesn’t even think he’s had fun before. when he lets that slip, though, luffy looks at him, smile falling for a moment in favor of something sad, before becoming even more determined.

(later, luffy asks him if he has a dream.

no, sanji says, without thinking. he pauses, unsure if that’s something that the persona he’s carefully crafted would say. but it’s too late—it’s already out there.

not at all? luffy asks. there has to be something. i don’t care about far away or impossible it seems.

sanji considers it for a moment and says, again, no. i don’t see the point of dreaming of things that aren’t possible.

whether it’s possible or not isn’t important. surely there’s something you want.

want. sanji isn’t even sure of the meaning of the word. he wants what his father wants, of course, but he gets the feeling that isn’t what luffy meant. something about his confusion must show on his face, because luffy lets it go.

after that, though, luffy won’t stop asking about what sanji wants to do. it drives sanji insane, because that’s a question he never knows how to answer.

it’s easy enough to make something up, obviously, but luffy seems to know every time, because he’ll send sanji this disappointed sort of look.

it makes sanji feel like he’s failed a test he didn’t know he was taking.

he fucking hates it.)

the strawhats keep sailing forward, saving various people and islands along the way (and that’s something else sanji can’t understand—luffy’s determination to fight for the freedom of others at no benefit to himself, this inherent kindness of his. well, sanji amends, the entire crew’s kindness, really. each of them shows it in their own way, but it’s apparent enough even in their daily interactions on the ship. these little things, above all else, keep throwing sanji off; he doesn’t know what to do with it, especially when it’s directed at him).

so for a long time, sanji pretends to be someone he’s not. and then he realizes, at some point, he’s not pretending anymore. he realizes that he’s actually starting to enjoy cooking, that he likes being here, on this ship with this crew who treat him as something more than a weapon or someone to fear. he realizes that he can’t remember the last time he thought about his mission, that it’s getting easier and easier to put on these fake emotions, that he barely even has to think about it anymore—so maybe they aren’t as fake he thought they were.

he realizes, with horror, that he’s learning how to feel. and, worst of all, there is something he wants, now.

so in the end, it turns out luffy was right. sanji does have an impossible dream, after all. because this thing he wants? he knows, as sure as anything, that it’s something he can’t ever, ever have.

#one piece #sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #i GUESS i'll use the vinsmoke tag this time since it actually applies #stealth black #stealth black sanji au #whenever i read literally anything the first thing my mind goes to is “how can i make this about sanji" sorry #the brainrot is real #mine #my writing #i guess?#i don’t know what to tag this as #why tf is this 1.5k words

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