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hypogryffin · 8 months

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genuinely curious by what you mean by "jewish (factual)" in your tier list. i can assume for a couple what you mean (sophia as an example) but i dont see how the others could be like jewish-coded! interested in hearing your thoughts

link to the first post for claritys sake, but this is the tier in question:

ok so for clarification: i made the tier list a little while ago and then scheduled it for later to keep uploads consistent, something i usually do all the time but am not for this discussion for now. this means that by the day the tier list posted, i was already a few weeks or so divorced from the actual creation of it, so some of my opinions have changed (as i said in the og post, i was unsure on a good portion of the characters even when i first queued the list), and some of my reasonings behind placements have been lost to time and my silly little goldfish memory.

bc of this, as of now as im trying to find a distinct line between "jewish (factual)" and "jewish (based on vibes)", the criteria for "factual" is sort of murky. some placements in the category were serious, but a lot of them were also entirely for joking reasons, and i had moved on as soon as i was done laughing to myself without coming back to it.

all this is to say, i have no idea how to summarise it, so im going to explain everything i can remember about my thought process at the time so you can see where i was coming from.

SOPHIA:

yup 👍.

ok so for the uninformed, sophia is the name of a gnostic figure and the specifics change depending on the context of which ur referring to her in, but in judaism specifically sophia was given as a translated name for chokmah which is like a being thats like really important in kabbalah and considered like. this sort of i guess personification of divine wisdom?

anyways this is a concept that i doubt im anywhere near the first person to bring up, so im not gonna spend a lot of time on it like i will the things i havent heard other people talk about. like the whole "good friend of humanity" thing! judaism puts a lot of emphasis on kindness and care for other people and i think its important that thats so big for her character and for how jewish she can be read as. she is also jewish because i like her :^).

TATSUYA:

suffers endlessly because g-d hates *him*, specifically, and he hates g-d right back. jewish.

that was a joke. ok so right out the gate i think the whole "fighting hitler" aspect of IS should count for something during the discussion of which characters are jewish. like just putting that out there. anyways tatsuya is jewish because of eternal punishment. specifically, you know how hes like super into "atonement" and repentance? bro would really have benefited from going to a high holidays service lemme tell you. and he does it in a specific way thats like. his atonement is actively trying to repair what hes fixed right like hes not doing what hes doing to be redeemed, hes doing it because its his responsibility to fix whats been broken. i just idk how to explain it properly but thats a thought process your rabbi talks you through in jew school yknow?

also theres this thing called tikkun olam, which literally translates as "repairing the world". so it means more like. doing ur best as a citizen to improve community and country, or general social work. but just considering it as taking the literal translation, then its just like... yep. that sure is what hes doing isnt it

also, killed hitler. hashtag work

KATSUYA:

placed here mostly because being tatsuyas brother, theyd probably be at a similar "level" of religiosity. however there are some unique things i want to point out here;

katsuya like embodies the idea of "tzedek tzedek tirdof" like. its unfortunate hes a cop but for a cop hes a pretty good person? hes pretty uncompromising on right and wrong, and in a way that totally lines up w tzedek tzedek tirdof as its described in the torah.

extra emphasis on his compassion, as in theres like that core facet of judaism, the tikkun olam, where people have a moral obligation to help others; not just do good as oneself, but also stop other people from doing bad. that last bit doesnt really matter, cuz im bringing it up so i can talk about katsuya as a police officer to clear his dads name and try and ensure a better future for his brother. he gave up his dreams for them.

i mean, when i say "giving up his dreams", im kinda laughing to myself bc theres no way he ran it past his parents bc if he looked his jewish mother in the eye and said "i want to be a pastry chef" he would not make it out of the room alive. hed go "my dream is to become a pâtissier" and his mom would immediately be like "no its not its to be an accountant" and that would be the end of the discussion

also, i think he would make some of the best fucking challah in the world. hed make matzo ball soup that could make you jizz your pants just looking at it. look me in the eyes and tell me that he doesnt actually go nuts at rosh hashana when he gets to make the round challah with the raisins in it and stuff or whatever else. there is such a crystal clear vision in my mind of him rocking this apron my dad used to have that says "real men make latkes". it was pink and ugly as sin and i think it would be katsuyas most prized possession.

LABRYS:

her name is fucking labrys obviously shes a jewish lesbian. next.

/j i will actually talk about this. like not mentioning the only survivor of her upbringing, which isnt a one to one considering the death match portion of her backstory but still close enough to feel um. relavant to jewish culture. she acts very...stereotypically jewish?

its not entirely the accent, but it is...part of it. so like i know its like a new jersey accent and that the stereotype is new york, i guess? but im not american and i dont rlly know the difference. they look close enough to each other on a map tho so i think it counts

but also shes like kinda confrontational in a way i specifically associate with jewish people or jewish characters? like not really bitchy but argumentative right, shes got this really sarcastic or mocking sense of humour. and girl kvetches with the best of them.

(also, side note: since i made the original list, i found out that the voice actress for aegis in p3 reload, dawn m bennett, is actually jewish! if i were to remake the tier list, aegis would be moved up from "vibes" to "factual" because of this. mentioning that here because of the sister thing :).)

JOKER:

kills g-d which is the jewish dream. this is a another joke.

someone in the replies of the tier list said something abt a possible reason being that he has an "abrahamic figure" as his ult. persona, which could be a good point if satanael was actually an abrahamic figure! but it is not. like ok im not a history guy but satanael is a name used in the 2nd book of enoch, which arguably could be part of jewish "canon" (i know this is actually the term for it but fandom has rotted my brain and it sounds terminally online to use it in terms of real life religiosity) but most rabbis agree it like is not, and theyre kind of who im listening to on this, and quick google search says even in christianity, enoch is debatable? idk

so like satanael isnt in the torah. and if anyone says "oh its just like another name for satan so technically--" shut up i know. satan isnt real in the torah either. ok like "satan" is used as a term, but not as like the specific dude that like rules hell. hes just like at most a specific dude who is not a devil/cast from heaven or whatever, but instead is a lawyer. more often its a concept, something representative of like the urge to go against g-ds will or a kosher life, this "evil inclination" which everyone is born possessing and grapples with when trying to be a good person. NOT THE SAME AS THE CHRISTIAN SATAN. WHICH IS WHAT P5 WAS GOING FOR. SATAN IN JUDAISM IS NOT A "super demon lord" or whatever they call it in the text of the game

satanael isnt an abrahamic figure and i dont think satan is either cuz its so different between religions and honestly i think calling things abrahamic religions, at least w the context i hear of it, is like kind of a misnomer or just kind of generally misleading cuz judaism christianity and islam are all so different and if were talking about this i think whoever invented the term judeochristian should eat a sheet of glass for it because whenever i hear those terms its very clear the person saying it means just christianity but theyre trying to be inclusive without actually putting the work in and thats not the point of this.

ok if im honest, as i think abt it joker isnt like. really... super jewish, in a way that you can point out? its just like... this overall vibe im having trouble explaining which is probably also like super influenced by how much i like him. i want to say that this strict sense of right and wrong that remains uninfluenced by the rest of society is something that clearly creates or maybe just intensifies this like. empathy for other people that reminds me of this concept in judaism which i cant remember the hebrew name of rn but i think its most commonly translated to english as "lovingkindness", one word? or that the whole idea of the phantom thieves can be contributed to tikkun olam. but, on the other hand, even if lovingkindness is what i personally consider one of jokers core character traits, the other one is pure, blinding rage.

im not going to go super into it, because im a few years rusty of torah study bc its only really consistently done in my community for kids preparing for bnai mitzvah cuz of how few people we have in our congregation. but from what i remember, my interpretation of the exact limit between righteous and sinful anger is a bit more... lax than the average jew's, or at least the average rabbi's, meaning mine, lol. either way anger is almost always seen as sinful because its an emotion that can like. turn you from g-d, its the same thing that invokes that "evil inclination" we just talked abt. so, joker textually feels this rage that arsene, his other self, literally refers to as "sacrilegious", something that very clearly states that he is willing to *knowingly* commit sins for this rage and is perfectly capable of causing undue harm to others for it, which is exactly the reason why judaism warns of anger. this means jokers anger is distinctly against jewish teachings.

again, im really lax, my familys reform (/lh) and i think there are some parts of this characterisation that make me feel this rage is overall constructive, especially considering that is what feeds his constant practice of lovingkindness and tikkun olam, but it being such a huge facet of his personality (made worse bc as a silent protagonist, you really have to search to get away from this trait) brings him down on the Jew Scale(tm).

in short, now that im really discussing this id probably move him to incredibly jewish based on vibes or even to just "jewish" no further classification. but even w the undying sinful anger thing i cant not think of him as jewish and i dont think its just bc hes one of my favourite characters of all time.

also that hair texture looking really familiar is all🤔🤔. all im saying that is in the tutorial, instead of "frizzy hair", morgana deffo should have been calling them blondie and jewfro /j /j /j

EDIT AND JOKERS KITCHEN!! JOKERS KITCHEN!! FOOD AS A LOVE LANGUAGE!! IN P5 YOU MAKE FOOD FOR YOUR FRIENDS AND YOU PUT LOVE INTO IT

MORGANA:

i know i put morgana before joker in the tier but i think in order to rlly discuss morgana we needed joker first bc part of my reason for putting them in the same tier is because they really are a pair, do not separate.

anyways, morgana does have a lot of the same problems as joker when it comes to being difficult to pin down. his inclination to tikkun olam is similar, sort of even greater than jokers depending on personal characterisation of joker, but instead of this discrepancy of his jewishness being anger, the ethical conundrum with morgana is sort of. arrogance? like, i have trouble figuring out how to really put into words how i feel abt morganas "lovingkindness", because it is so hard to understand where hes at in terms of empathy?? like. fucking. idk hes definitely a very caring person but its not exactly like

ok i cant figure out how to say it moving on. i used the word arrogance even though i dont really think thats right, because morgana has never seemed haughty. his "arrogance" is really just him making up for an inferiority complex caused by the amnesia thing, its not as if he genuinely totally believes himself to be above the others. but like no matter what it stems from, the way he behaves and his personal pride hurts people. ie the okumura arc, or his entire relationship w ryuuji. he speaks ill of others, belittles them to bring himself up, etc. arrogance and excess pride is as condemned as anger in judaism if not moreso, since its even less useful/constructive to be "arrogant" than it is to be angry. OH ok so what i meant with the hard to figure out his empathy thing is this actually!! hes very caring and has a really notable respect for human life but its always at war with his need to prove himself, so even if when you think about it its like Oh Morgana Is A Really Caring Person, which makes sense because he was created from human desire and as such is really in touch with what people need, the desperation he has to be seen as "worthy" comes off as wanting to be seen as "above", even if it means trying to get the people around him as being considered "below" him.

tldr so if it was just those two traits i think id have to move morgana lower on the list, alongside joker.

HOWEVER. speaking directly to the other jews in the crowd, but morgana is totally textually a golem, right? like not exactly, obviously, but think about it. morganas a being of the velvet room because he was created from "the dregs of human hope" (canonical line from yaldaboath that i think about more than what can be considered healthy tbh), whose job is was and always will be to protect and guide the trickster and his community, the phantom thieves. hes a golem right? am i insane? am i seeing things? i dont care, im not giving up on this interpretation, so morgana is factually and canonically jewish cuz of it.

ZEN:

i do not remember.

as of today id probably move him to either jewish no other classification or not jewish. my b guys. anyways

JUN:

life is indescribable torment, and then hes also got additional, mostly unrelated, mommy issues. judaism 101.

also his suspenders when he was a kid are the most young jewish lad shit in the history of ever like i have seen that exact outfit on a young boy every time i go to temple, and each time it is a different kid

ok more seriously, i really do think juns story-- specifically his relationship with memory-- can easily be extracted into a jewish narrative. like nyarlathotep messed with his memories and convinced him that the other members of the masked circle killed maya right. and so the way he fanatically reminded himself of the past was a mix of trauma and active manipulation. but if i think abt it a certain way i also can see it as like. ok so in judaism memory is really important and like a lot of the time during for example passover, youre meant to refer to yourself as being a jew in egypt, saying "we" instead of "them" and such. but im specifically meaning how important memory/remembrance is in grieving. jun in his grief for mayas perceived death "kept her alive" in a way. she was never forgotten, and so she never died. even though the entire masked circle forgot, from trauma or fear or guilt or whatever, jun held on, remembering her, and so she survived. joker took peoples dreams but his actions also caused them to be completely be forgotten. they were alive, but they were robbed of their ability to be remembered at all, and so they were as good as dead even still breathing and talking.

retroactively, this idea enforces tatsuyas jewishness, considering the entire story of eternal punishment. he refused to forget the masked circle, even though it hurts.

anyways back to jun, i also think the whole repentance thing is important too. he hurt people in his anger and sorrow and spends the rest of his life (until the world is reset at least lol) atoning for his wrongdoings.

also, i know i said kid him is super jewish looking, but he has not gotten better as hes grown up. 17y.o him is exactly the guy your bubbe will pull up on facebook and be like "this is the grandson of my friend or whoever! you should go on a date with him, hes your age! he looks a bit gay but hes a very successful doctor! ...and hes JEWISH YAKNOW...." and ur like "ok bubbe"

ERIKO:

i actually do not recall exactly why she is in this tier specifically. the only thing i for sure remember was that i at least partially placed her here bc of her fascination with the occult.

HIKARI:

ok this one was kinda me goofing. its the whole extended family thing like whats more jewish than being actively discouraged from a creative career for something "safe" and "normal?" bro the aunt might as well have dropped the "being a doctor is very respectable" line in the song.

but like even without that, wanting to be a director or associated with film? hitting her with the jew beam. mazel tov babygirl.

#not art #asks & requests

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true-blue-sonic · 11 months

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Some thoughts I had about IDW's Duo/Mimic and the New Diamond Cutters below (perhaps an unpopular opinion?):

With Evan Stanley confirming Duo!Mimic specifically has been made to look almost exactly the same to Slinger the Ocelot, I must say I am rather surprised Whisper does not express any kind of recognition or sense of worry about how familiar Duo must look to her. After all, not only does he look 90% the same to one of her dead friends, there is also the issue that...

...Duo's fur colour is exactly the same as Mimic's body. I am really surprised that Whisper just does not notice these similarities or shows anything akin to recognition (and the suspicion that comes along with it), and I really find it a shame! Because I did really like these bits of justification Duo gives for wanting to join:

Mimic knows exactly what to say to endear the entire trio to him at once. He's preying perfectly on the values each individual finds important. For Lanolin, he points out that they need volunteers* and how he wants to make a difference, fitting with her desire to ensure no-one would ever be harmed or terrified again by Eggman's attacks alongside tackling the limited manpower and means of the Restoration. Tangle loves the more adventurous life she lives after meeting Sonic and co. and greatly cherishes the new friends she has made; Mimic points those things out verbatim. And Whisper has greatly suffered under losing her old crew and is a highly serious, if not the most serious, member of the New Diamond Cutters, thus Mimic states he knows the work is dangerous and he will ensure to take it seriously and be reliable. It covers all facets of what the trio finds important in a teammate (dedicated and helpful; fun and adventure-loving; reliable and taking it seriously), which is why I don't like how Mimic manages to pull off such a clever bit of manipulation (if that is the correct term) despite the fact there is no way Whisper should not be suspicious of him with this extremely paper-thin disguise. We as readers of course should know that this is indeed Mimic, but that gets shown literally three pages afterwards anyway and is discussed between Mimic and Clutch beforehand. And since Duo is shown on the cover of issue 67, I heavily doubt that anyone (other than perhaps Silver, who I am 100% certain is not going to be believed anyway, based on the contents of the solicits for issue 63 and 64) is going to notice this. I really would have preferred it if Mimic's disguise wasn't this obvious; it would have made the Diamond Cutters (and especially Whisper) falling for it hook, line and sinker a lot less eyebrow-raising on their part. Mimic's words and reasoning are cleverly done to gain the trio's trust, and yet it should have fallen through immediately the moment Whisper laid her eyes on him, in my opinion.

(*That is another thing I found striking about this issue: the new Diamond Cutters are discussing about how they need new volunteers, and literally two seconds later Duo comes cruising in like "Hi I heard you need new volunteers". And no-one questions how strange it is that he knows that? There is no way he could have, since the concept of recruiting more people has clearly been discussed only between the three girls mere moments prior! Yet Tangle asks him if he wants to join, he says "Yes, I heard you were accepting volunteers", and no-one bats an eye at exactly when he heard it. Again, also this part makes the Diamond Cutters inadvertently come off as far too trusting and simply idiotically gullible to me.)

#hmm I don't know if tagging this with all the respective characters and the name of the comic would be impolite or not #but yes Mimic *at least* should have been a different colour than his usual octopus self and then I would have found it a lot more likely-#-already that nobody (especially Whisper) questioned anything about his appearance‚ colouration‚ and similarities to Slinger

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escapeaddict · 6 months

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@lady-adventuress ok so my gift was originally going to be a multichapter fic set in an alternate universe but it wouldn't have been finished on time

anyway, here's the first chapter

Yesterday's Innovation is Tomorrow's Tradition

The kingdom of Ever After was a paradise of progress, a haven of order, a beacon of hope and a pillar of stability. The benevolent royal family ruled with strict compassion and a firm guiding hand, a stern affection behind every action taken by the Grimms over the two centuries since they rose into power.

Destiny, the capital city as of two hundred years ago, was a marvel of technology. The pristinely white palace and the pastel mansions of nobility stretched towers and spires into the sky, a bustling market district spilled chaotically across the streets like explosions of paint, and train tracks from all over the kingdom wound their way to the city. Gardens were carefully cultivated, dirigibles hung in the sky, and halls of stained glass windows and faceted chandeliers served as meeting places during the nobility’s social season.

The slums, meanwhile, were covered in soot and choked by smoke, factories chewing up workers during the day and spitting them back out to sleep in their pitiful shacks by night. To them, coal was hacking coughs and aching lungs, steam was scalding heat and dampened air, and nuts and bolts were things to be handled with care for the gain of those richer than them, lest they be forced to cover their cost from their own wages.

Here, in Destiny, the paths and futures of different, yet oddly similar girls were about to cross, some for the first time. Unbeknownst to them, they were going to implement changes to the very shape and nature of their country. Forever.

After.

Apple White, daughter of the childless king’s only ward, led a blessed life. She woke each morning to the pleasing chimes emerging from the beaks of clockwork birds, their inner workings of springs and gears laid bare to see within their delicate wire frames. An automated table would slide smoothly into her room, halting at the end of its tracks beside her bed, bearing hot tea and warm confections. After her morning refreshments, a maid would enter with a wheeled mannequin wearing an outfit chosen in advance for the day’s events, and help the honorary princess with the tricky buckles and finicky laces of her finery after brushing her blond hair to shiny perfection.

And then, unless beholden to prior obligations, the girl was free to do as she chose.

On this particular day, as the chill of winter thawed from the air, she was called upon to meet with his majesty, King Milton, regarding the upcoming social season. She curtsied respectfully as she sashayed onto the balcony where he and her mother were waiting to speak with her over a light brunch, and awaited a spoken invitation to sit in her seat.

“Sit down, dear,” the king said, the frown lines at the corners of his lips and eyes lightening a margin. “We have matters of importance to discuss.”

“I will convey myself with the utmost dignity in front of all visiting nobility,” she assured him as she sat, anticipating a conversation regarding proper conduct.

“Do not assume to know my thoughts, child,” Milton said. “I have faith enough in your diplomacy. The matter at hand may require a differing set of skills, as you would have known had you listened to me until the completion of my statement.”

Stung, Apple dropped her eyes, but not before seeing her mother hide a crimson smirk with a tilt of her teacup.

“This year, Raven Queen is returning to Destiny at last,” the king said. “Her family has not shown its face since the imprisonment and subsequent execution of its treacherous matriarch, but the girl is sixteen as of November, and somehow has found a sponsor. She is to be presented this very year.”

Apple’s fingers twitched, and vague memories of a laughing child with inky hair and eyes so blue they were practically violet filled her mind.

“We don’t want her causing a scene,” Snow White said serenely, setting down her teacup with a clink. “And you are childhood acquaintances. It would not be remiss of you in the eyes of society to reconnect with an old, ah, ‘friend’.”

“The girl is in prime position to hurt her prospects beyond repair,” the king said. “Not to mention her chances of dragging those easily led down with her. I believe she could use a calming presence and slight monitoring to get her through the social season without mishap. Which is why you will be presented as well.”

The sun kept shining, the breeze kept blowing, the world kept turning, and Apple froze, heart like a block of ice in her chest.

“I don’t turn sixteen until May,” she said after the pause in conversation had stretched on just a little too long. “It’s not proper.”

“No one expects you to actually be married this year,” Snow said. “It is known how useful of a bargaining chip you are.”

“It is tradition for a princess to not be presented until she is eighteen,” Apple said, sudden desperation pushing her to continue the debate. “In order to ensure that a political alliance with a foreign country is not necessary before she is to be married.”

“But you have some leeway,” Milton said with warning in his voice. “As daughter of my ward, you occupy a unique position. Princess enough that any nobleman worth his gold would crave the influence of taking your hand, yet not royal enough that it would shock the senses if you were presented earlier than expected. And I do not believe our relations with our neighbors are unsteady enough to require further negotiations as of yet.”

“And if there is a courter I cannot refuse without jeopardizing the kingdom’s internal peace?” Apple asked, defeated.

“Then I suppose you will have to do your duty, my girl,” the king briefly rested his hand on Apple’s. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Apple responded immediately. “Always.”

“Then believe me when I say that you are up to this task.”

Backed into a corner, all she could do was nod.

Cerise Hood dropped the last trunk onto the floor of the entrance hall with a relieved air, signaling to the footman that he could take it, too, to the carriages. As she turned away, the daughter of her employer caught her eye.

“Thank you,” Raven said. “And thank you for coming with me.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” Cerise said, adjusting the red kerchief covering her head. “I have never been to Destiny before.”

Raven grimaced, no doubt thinking of the execution of her mother, as well as the imprisonment of her double-crossing accomplice, who had been long rumored to be Cerise’s father. Or perhaps she was merely contemplating the reception she could expect to receive in the capital as the daughter of the noblewoman who had succeeded in assassinating the king’s brother.

“This trip will be fun,” Cerise said, ignoring the various elephants in the room. “And who knows? Maybe you’ll wind up getting hitched.”

Raven cringed, then blew a raspberry, causing Cerise to let out a bark of laughter.

“Raven!” the voice of the girl’s father called out.

“I have to go,” Raven said reluctantly. “It’s annoying that we can’t ride in the same carriage.”

“It is what it is,” Cerise shrugged. “Let my boss know I’ll be there in a moment.”

Inclining her head, Raven exited the country house belonging to the Queen family, leaving behind her friend, the bastard child of one of the kitchen workers.

Cerise briefly shut her eyes and took a bracing breath.

She had ensured that she would be accompanying the Queens on their trip (she would have done so anyway, for Raven’s sake) just as she had ensured she would become Raven’s maid (despite her friend’s protests), and now Giles would have further instructions awaiting her upon her arrival at Destiny. The capital was going to be a much more difficult environment in which to gather information and recruit sympathizers to the cause, and she knew she had no idea how difficult it would truly be. She just had to be ready for not being ready.

Exhaling slowly, Cerise opened her eyes and walked out into the early spring sunshine as if without a care in the world.

Raven Queen sighed, lightly brushing the skirt of her purple dress, which flared out from a low pointed waist thanks to multiple layered petticoats. Her black hair, void of the purple ribbons she was planning to weave into it for the formal occasions waiting for her later in the day, was knotted tightly at the back of her head. A lacy parasol and an equally lacy bonnet were easily accessible in preparation for a morning walk among the grounds, should the mood strike her. Forgoing footwear, she padded through the halls on stockinged feet, stone floor pleasantly warm due to a system of pipes and heated water.

The house in Destiny was both eerily familiar and comfortingly strange to Raven, who hadn’t stepped foot in it since the tender age of nine. Here, Mira Queen had planned to poison the heir to the throne. Here, she had been dragged away in chains, cursing the huntsman who’d betrayed her.

Here, Raven had seen her mother for the last time before her sentenced death.

She could still make her way to the kitchen, as it turned out, memory not failing her in that regard, but the kitchen looked all wrong compared to her recollections. The angles and the sizes of all the tables and pantries were different than she remembered, and inexplicably tears fought to leave her eyes.

“Blackbird,” the cook noticed her. “Planning on getting the worm?”

“It’s not that early, is it?” Raven asked.

“Early enough that you’re not leaving this kitchen until we get something in your stomach,” the cook said. “Breakfast isn’t for another two hours.”

And as the cook fussed over her, something in Raven unclenched, as if her bones settled into place, and she smiled, breathing in the familiar scent of spices and herbs that always pervaded the kitchen.

She was home.

Knightley adjusted his sleeves and smoothed out the lapels of his frock coat. He tucked his pocket watch into his waistcoat pocket (he was surely going to miss important information from the evening’s ball at the Beauty’s, which started in less than an hour), and he gathered himself to knock on the locked door in front of him.

A few heartbeats passed until the locking mechanism began to click.

“We’re closed,” said the man who cracked open the door, squinting at him.

“Can the musical chair change its tone,” Knightley said in a low voice, “when the tablet of granite is inscribed with a bone?”

The old carpenter peered at him a moment longer, before spitting on the cobblestones and turning around, leaving the door open. He followed him inside, shutting and locking the door behind him. Winding their way through the shop, the man led him between displays of furniture and carvings, through the back where they weaved around blocks of wood and scattered tools while sawdust kicked up by their feet swirled at their ankles, and down a trapdoor to the basement. On their way, Knightley saw a man closely resembling the carpenter, no doubt his son, carefully whittling something in his large hands, but he had not looked up as they passed. In the basement the carpenter turned to Knightley, gesturing at a pile of crates tucked in the back behind barrels and sacks of various foodstuffs.

“My granddaughter’s about your age, mister,” the old man said. “Her name is Cedar. And she’s as good as dead if you muck this up, do you understand me?”

“Yessir,” Knightley straightened his back.

“Pah,” the carpenter said disparagingly, then marched back up the stairs without a word.

Knightley rolled his eyes, but moved aside the deceptively heavy crates without comment, revealing a round door in the wall, small and low to the ground. He crawled into the passageway it concealed, wrinkling his nose as he traversed above and beneath protruding corners of pipes full of water and steam. At the end of his crawl he hit another door. He knocked with no hesitation.

This time the words were allowed to be a bit more treasonous, as they were out of the public’s earshot.

“The king who sings with pages of sky fears too much the dawn that rises with lies,” Knightley said.

The door opened.

“So nice to meet you in person, Master Knightley,” said the man known to him only as Fenris, though he recognized Duke Badwolf from prior events.

“Likewise, y- sir,” he replied, biting down the instinctive usage of ‘your grace’.

He reached into his coat and the duke tensed, hand hovering at the hilt of his dagger, but Knightley merely retrieved a collection of notes secured in a large nondescript envelope he’d tucked away in an inner pocket.

“Information on the families you requested, sir,” he said, handing it over. “The Charmings, the O’Hairs, and several others.”

The duke didn’t acknowledge his defensive reaction, simply dropping his right hand back to his side as he accepted the envelope with his left. He skimmed through its contents, then looked up at Knightley with a grin that showed far too many teeth to be anything other than predatory.

“We already have a recruiter as her maid,” Badwolf said, “but get us what you can on Raven Queen.”

Knightley took that to mean that his work was satisfactory.

Briar Beauty, who’d turned sixteen the previous August, hung on the outskirts of the party she’d helped her parents arrange, pouting at the fact that not one gentleman had asked her to be their first dance of the night. Instead two separate crowds had formed around Apple White and Raven Queen, until the former politely made her excuses and the latter was whisked off to the dance floor.

Apple was making her way across the room to Briar, no doubt to chastise her about showing such an unbecoming face in public, but Briar opted to ignore her friend until she couldn’t anymore. She shifted her gaze to Raven instead, envy spiking through her at the attention the girl was getting, when she caught sight of a flash of dark blue fabric. Briar’s stomach twisted at the color that was becoming increasingly familiar, as its wearer’s dresses varied in design instead of in shade.

The wearer being Faybelle Thorn, daughter of the diplomat from Faerie, land of heathens, where they decried the progress of coal and steam. She danced in the arms of a young gentleman, footsteps light with a nimble grace, and sported a smug smile on her pointy face.

Briar’s mother had been kidnapped by Faerie in her youth, when the seas between the two kingdoms were still tumultuous.

In fact, the mastermind behind the ransom plot was none other than Faybelle’s very own mother.

Briar failed to notice Apple gliding into place at her side until the princess murmured in her ear for her to breathe and relax.

“I don’t understand how you get along with her,” Briar said, not taking her eyes off the infuriating girl. “You’re polar opposites.”

“We have an understanding,” Apple corrected. “We share similar ideals in many ways, but we are not friends, I can assure you of that. So stop glaring.”

“I’m not jealous of her,” Briar grumbled. “And I’m offended that you’d even insinuate such a thing.”

She shot the girl another dirty look.

“For heaven’s sake,” Apple said, “your families aren’t even feuding, so drop the vendetta.”

Just then, Faybelle caught Briar’s eye and winked, the smug vixen.

Cheeks burning, Briar jerked her head to the side, on time to see a flustered Darling Charming, who had been among those presented in the morning, arrive noticeably late.

An earl, who had previously vied for Apple’s attention, made his way over to the stunningly pretty girl, and Apple scowled.

“You have more than enough potential suitors, honey,” Briar said. “That one’s no big loss at his age. And you accuse me of being jealous.”

Apple appeared to be struggling with what to say, a confused furrow to her brow, and in the end she simply settled on a long drawn-out sigh.

“Please excuse me,” she said, sidestepping her hypocrisy completely, “I should reacquaint myself with Raven, it’s been several years since we last spoke.”

“Fine,” Briar said with a joking bitterness. “Enjoy debuting without your best friend by your side, ingrate.”

She flashed Apple a grin as she swept away in a faux-offended cloud of pink fabric.

Apple, after getting waylaid by Daring Charming, who, at nearly seventeen, was free to enjoy himself during the season with no marital pressure placed upon him, managed to make her way to Raven’s vicinity before the girl was yanked away into another dance. Raven spotted her and paled to a gaunt gray, knuckles whitening as she gripped the fabric of her skirt tightly.

“Raven!” Apple smiled. “It has been ever so long. I must say that it is wonderful to see you again.”

“It is?” Raven said, visibly startled by Apple’s welcoming attitude, but at least she unclenched her fists.

“Of course,” said Duchess Swan, a daughter of minor nobility, as she sidled up to them mid-waltz. “You’re really refreshing our memory as to why loyalty to the king pays off. Why, it’s as if you had left Destiny only yesterday.”

Apple opened her mouth to chastise her, but the graceful girl had already glided away, twirling in the arms of her dance partner.

Several seconds of silence strung along.

“Please excuse her,” Apple said. “She doesn’t speak for us all.”

“Doesn’t she?” Raven asked, eyeing the waltzing pairs subtly stealing looks at the two girls.

“Well, I, for one, am honestly pleased to see you,” Apple said. “Shall we?”

She indicated the refreshment tables with a lazy wave, in the hopes that food and drink would lower the other’s guard.

“Very well,” Raven said cautiously, starting towards the wine glasses.

They arrived by them in utter silence.

Well, that just wouldn’t do.

“Taking the bull by the horns,” Apple said. “I’m afraid I can no longer predict your reactions to mentions of delicate topics, and one is hanging over us quite obviously.”

Raven said nothing.

“I wish I knew you as well as I used to,” Apple whispered, her mother berating her in her mind for the truth in her words. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

“My bluntness hasn’t changed,” Raven finally said, picking up a flute of champagne with her thumb and middle finger with a carelessness contradicted by her trembling hands. “So I’ll state this question simply. Do you want to reconnect even though my mother killed your, well, basically, great uncle, and tried to do the same to your mother?”

Taking the bull by the horns indeed.

“Raven, you were nine,” Apple said, dismayed. “No one, and I mean no one, should ever think you’re guilty because of blood relation.”

“I know that, don’t worry,” Raven smiled faintly, the rippling surface of the burgundy liquid in her glass smoothing. “I just wanted to get that out of the way, because you’d be shocked at how many people disagree.”

“Do you,” Apple’s voice was small. “Do you resent me for your mother’s fate?”

She hadn’t meant to ask that.

“You’re no more at fault for that than I am for the assassination attempts,” Raven touched her fingertips to Apple’s wrist. “I never once blamed you, not in all my years of isolation in the countryside.”

Apple’s lips parted, and she completely forgot her betters’ instructions not to get emotionally invested in their relationship.

“Can we start over?” she blurted out.

“And pretend we never stole oranges from the cook?” Raven asked. “Forget that we dropped a bucket of snow on Dexter Charming, or that we muddied our clothes countless times running outside in the rain?”

Her tone was melancholy as she recalled those events that had seemed so joyful when they occurred.

“Not as a blank slate,” Apple said, fumbling for the right words. “More as a renewal of our bond, a shared goal of making new memories without the past weighing them down. Like you said, I want to reconnect ‘even though’.”

Raven looked away for a moment, contemplatively quiet. She then turned to gaze decisively into Apple’s eyes, which betrayed unintentional sincerity.

“I would be honored to get to know you again,” Raven said.

Cerise, devoid of her eye-catching kerchief and with soot smudging her distinctive lock of white hair, crouched on the spindly limbs of a pomegranate tree on the edge of the Beauty estate. The threadbare branches didn’t provide much cover, but as long as her movements remained slow and steady, the night and her drab garments would be all the concealment she needed.

There was just one snag in this planned rendezvous. A man was wandering ever closer to her in his meandering path across the gardens, clearly enjoying his peaceful solitude. He soon paused to contemplate the starry sky only a few feet from Cerise’s hiding spot.

The moonlight reflected off the colorless locks in his otherwise dark brown hair as he lingered, and Cerise was giving herself a moment to lament her failed mission when he spoke.

“Hello, Redcap.”

“Fenris,” she breathed.

Damn it all, of all the rotten luck, a nobleman was her contact in the city.

How was she supposed to discreetly interact with him as a maid?

“Status?” he inquired.

“Secure,” she said, brain in turmoil.

“And that of your target?”

“My friend, you mean,” she corrected instinctively.

“Redcap,” he growled.

“Uncompromised as of yet, sir,” Cerise muttered. “I’ll have a clearer picture after tonight’s events.”

“Good,” Fenris said. “I expect a report on the corvid’s account of the evening by tomorrow night.”

“Understood,” she said. “Further instructions?”

“Pending,” he said. “But nudge her away from the fruit, they seemed to be getting along earlier, and if she befriends her we might just lose our greatest potential asset to the serpent and her gilded tongue.”

One second she was listening attentively to Apple’s tales of misadventures with Briar, the next Raven’s childhood friend stood stiff and mute, face blank but for that hated artificial smile Raven remembered from before.

Which meant that one specific person was nearby.

She reluctantly pivoted and came face-to-face with the heir to the throne.

“Raven, darling,” Snow White beamed. “It’s delightful to have a representative of the Queen family at our dear social season once more. Your presence has been sorely missed since your father’s unfortunate vanishing act.”

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” Raven said, shoving down the anger curling in her gut.

“Tell me, my dear,” Snow said with a flash of her pearly teeth. “What prompted this return?”

“Well, Lady Charming was kind enough to recall my similarity in age to her own children,” Raven said. “She reached out about sponsoring me.”

Snow’s eyes were quite cold in contrast to the warmth of her curved lips.

“I was under the impression that you were the one to reach out initially,” she said. “It was quite generous of Lady Charming to risk her reputation in such a way. With her scant schedule, I can understand how she had the presence of mind to write to you before me, but it’s a shame that I hadn’t realized that she was your only option, not your first choice. Your return could have been facilitated as a symbol of peace between our families had I only thought things through. And I could have spared other sponsors from the controversy.”

“Queenie is handling any backlash just fine,” Raven said without blinking, as if she called marchionesses by their first name on a regular basis.

“Marvelous,” Snow said. “I do hope it remains that way.”

“I believe in her ability to handle surprise obstacles,” Raven said.

“Such confidence in your sponsor is commendable,” Snow said. “But do not let it blind you. Reality is often harsh.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Raven sipped her drink. “But one does not need the support of another to stand up for oneself.”

“Then I’ll leave you in your own capable hands,” Snow said. “I have so much catching up to do with Queenie, I haven’t checked in on her family in far too long.”

Raven watched as the woman walked away and mentally apologized to the Charmings for loosing the heir apparent on them, no matter how unintentionally.

Darling thanked the Redford boy for the dance, and he bowed gallantly over her hand, pressing his lips to the back of her wrist. She took short, quick steps beneath the voluminous skirt of her gown, which translated into a flowing movement to onlookers, and went in search of water for her dry mouth, only to stop in her tracks.

Her twin brother was engaged in conversation with Snow White, and it was not going well.

“I suppose I always thought she was intriguing,” Dexter looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“I can’t help but notice you’re not one of the ones asking her to dance,” Snow said. “Nervous?”

“I don’t really know her,” Dexter, bless him, looked legitimately confused. “Why would I?”

“Status,” Snow shrugged. “Scandal. Romance. There must be a reason Queenie’s sticking her neck out for an outcast.”

Dexter’s eyes darted around nervously, then landed on his sister, wordlessly begging for help.

“Dex!” Darling rushed forward to clutch his sleeve, ending up between him and Snow. “I didn’t get to talk to you today!”

She pouted up at him.

“Maybe you should get better at keeping track of time,” he said, but softened the statement with a grin.

Snow cleared her throat.

“Oh my,” Darling said, letting go of Dexter’s arm. “I didn’t notice you, I apologize.”

Snow gave herself a lightning quick once over as if to double-check that her opulent jewelry and blinding white gown remained intact, and Darling resisted the urge to grin.

“I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important,” she continued.

“Important?” Snow gave a tinkling laugh. “Not at all! I was merely saying my hellos to your brother.”

“It’s sweet of you to try and assuage my worries,” Darling said. “But I know the wellbeing of those around you is one of your top priorities, and I am deeply sorry for interrupting the way I did.

“I do care very much,” Snow said. “For those dear to me.”

Darling dropped the pretense of misunderstanding the badly hidden insults.

“Then I wouldn’t dream of keeping you from them,” she said, gesturing away from herself.

Snow narrowed her eyes, but gave her a tight smile.

“I do hope to speak to you soon, Darling,” she said in lieu of a farewell.

The siblings watched her retreating form until she was out of earshot.

“Did you have to antagonize her?” Dexter asked.

“Did she have to imply that you were worth less to her than the dirt on her soles?” Darling shot back.

“I don’t even know what she was trying to get from me,” Dexter said, wisely not pursuing that argument.

“An admission that it was your idea to have Mom sponsor Raven,” she said.

“But it wasn’t,” he said. “It would take a lot of subtle manipulation to convince Mom to do anything we thought up.”

And, oh, didn’t Darling know that all too well.

Having snuck out to the garden the night of the ball for some air, as she was wont to do after a night of overzealous wine-drinking, Briar had found that someone had been in the tree she liked to perch on. Said someone had been none too gentle, as could be seen by the snapped twigs and crushed leaves, not to mention they had left a muddy footprint on the bark. Oh, they had been relatively subtle signs, but Briar knew that tree like the palm of her hand, with all its little scars and blemishes. And she wanted answers.

Or maybe she was bored and nursing a slight headache, but that was beside the point.

Her money would have been on Darling, if not for the fact that the girl’s mother had kept an eagle eye on her daughter from the moment they stepped into the foyer, and for the fact that she’d eliminated invited guests from her list of suspects.

“Only Badwolf was in that area,” the nervous footman she’d questioned told her. “And he never even touched any tree.”

Needless to say, the trail more or less ended there.

Briar sighed despondently, hunched up in her vantage point that doubled as the scene of the crime, when her eye caught on a scrap of fabric caught on a branch, edges ragged and obviously torn.

Assessing the cloth with practiced expertise, Briar was pretty sure it originated in the Darkwood.

The Queens had sent spies to last night’s ball.

#ever after high #apple white #cerise hood #raven queen #darling charming #briar beauty #fanfic #steampunk au #idk if this will get a continuation as it is #there's a reason I'm posting this to tumblr and not on ao3 #but it will probably get an adaptation instead #I like this au

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floufli · 11 months

Text

Admit It

Chapter 3: Abduction (4.5k)

Summary:

Before the whole "multiverse collapsing" thing, everything was going pretty smoothly for you. As Spider-woman, you saved people, beat up villains and lived an calm and uneventful civilian life. But everything seemed to have changed the moment one boy was bitten by some radioactive spider. Now, the villains you faced have become more active, and always seemed to disappear before you could deliver them to the police. One day, you manage to finally catch the trail of the ones that kept stealing your catches, only to be left to discover another facet of your life waiting for you.

Will this end well for you? You could only hope so. But you are perfectly okay with risking it all, after all, that "Miguel" got one hell of an ass to make up for it.

Tags:

Miguel o'hara x fem!reader, violence, mature language and reference, Reader has the same arms thingies as Miguel, WILL BECOME MINOR NON FRIENDLY QUICK SO HOP HOP GET OUT OF HERE,trauma, rape mentioned, future tags,

MasterList

Chap: (1) (2)

Author notes:

Okay so first of all sorry for the loongggg ass pause, my brain just dropped the Miguel hyperfixation all of a sudden. And to add salt to the wound this has been ready for almost 2 weeks but the moment I said I was gonna post it my Internet said “haha no❤️”. So no Internet for me for at least a few months (;=;)👍.

Anyway hope you enjoy the chap if you’re still reading this, I was trying something but I cringed so hard I had to rewrite the chap a few times.

Don't copy to another site or I'm gonna be big mad >:C and don't feed to AI obviously

"Situation?" Miguel talked through his gobber, Jessica's hologram staring back at him. He didn't like the fact that he wasn't there when new recruits were brought in, but his duties as this dimension's Spider-Man had been left unattended for too long, and now it came back to bite him in his ass.

He was now heading to the HQ, swinging and climbing on the building while still remaining focused on the hologram of his subordinate.

"It went pretty well if you asked me." The woman said, her pose visibly relaxed." We did the usual explanation thingy just without you present but she assimilate everything pretty quickly I think. She didn't ask many questions either." She noted, at this point, she knew she was just telling him things without any real importance, as she knew he would verify himself everything that she said.

"Good." He responded coldly. that day of work had completely drained him, and he only wanted one thing: to take a shower and sleep until sunrise.

But he knew he couldn't, he just brought those fucking villains to the police and still had a lot of work left at the HQ, he didn't even know if he would be able to leave for the night.

"And you Miguel, everything's alright? You said you would be out for a few hours but half a day isn't typically your definition of 'a few hours'?" Her question was legitimate, he almost never left for this amount of time without saying explicitly for how many hours or days he would be gone. But this time he had gotten surprised by the amount of work he had to do in the city in order to keep everything going.

"Everything's okay Jessica, you can go back now, I'll handle the rest." He said looking away from her as he stepped inside the HQ's building. He stepped inside the main hall at ease, it was like his second home after all the time he had spent here. As he made his way toward the main elevator, he noticed the lack of the usual buzz signaling him the end of the discussion. He pulled his fist back up and unsurprisingly was met by Jessica’s silent stare, looking at him like a disappointed mother.

“Do you have something more to add Jess?” He asked unbothered by her attitude, she would sometimes act like this on purpose, keeping what she had in mind to herself and making him near beg to get some info about what was bugging her.

"Take a break, Miguel, you know you need to. You're gonna go far if you continue like that. We can't lose you."

And just like that, the call ended, with him still staring blankly at his wrist while he ascended to the higher floors. A frown slowly took over his features as his arms came back to his side. A break? It's not like he purposefully avoided any kind of breaks he just simply have the time to. Taking a break for him wasn't like any other Spider taking one, no, he had the responsibility of both his dimension and the multiverse along with the lives of thousands of Spiders.

He would take a break when his own responsibilities would allow him to.

Letting out yet another heavy breath, he quickly made his way out of the elevator as it finally reached its designed floor. Knowing the entire layout of the building like the back of his own hand, he made his way quickly across the Spiders still present, even considering the darkness started to grow outside. Multiple dimensions automatically meant various time-zone for each, given the exact same place it could be just the morning in one while late afternoon in the other. This caused the building to almost never be left empty, which helped any concern about the security of said building if he was absent.

He was now only a few minutes away from his 'office' if he could call it so since it didn't bear the traditional aspect of one. His mind was still full of today's work he would have to spend the night to finish due to his incapacity to catch some low-cost thugs quickly. He walked by Margo's desk, greeting her briefly as he could easily see she was already occupied doing multiple things at once in this dimension as well as her own, like always.

He ignored the nasty looks he got from the prisoners in their narrow cells, sigh remaining focused ahead as he walked. The image of his ‘work home’ grew larger in the distance and with it the until-then-postponed stress that always made its way to him, no matter how often he repeated the same things over and over.

Except this time was a bit different, as he walked into the comfortably lit place just enough for others to see easily but dark enough not to damage his retinas, soft led allowing a light glow into the space, he felt something odd. His eye focused on every item in sight, trying to find something to explain the weird feeling that came over him.

Even after letting his gaze wander around for a few seconds, he hadn’t spotted anything out of the ordinary. Deciding to brush off the feeling, thinking it was once again caused by his lack of recent sleep, he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself before going to work.

Except this seemed to have the completely opposite effect on him. Instead of cooling himself down in the familiar scent of his place, he was met by an even if weak, sweet scent that short-circuited his line of thought. His breath hitched at the fragrance, unused to such a scent entering his system by now. He couldn’t put a finger on a word to define it, it wasn’t like anything he had ever encountered before. No, this seemed sweetly addictive, just powerful enough despite its obvious fading.Leaving him craving for more.

Too caught up in the sudden smell, trying to process it while discovering its source, he missed the way his own breathing slowly became heavy, panting being the now proper term to describe his current self. If he could see himself in a mirror he would probably be embarrassed by the state he was in, mouth slightly open as if to actually taste the air he was surrounded by, pupils dilated, totally engulfing the natural red tint of his irises. He could even feel his fangs starting to grow, their tips gently tickling his lips.

His back was tense, as the rest of his frozen body, seemingly lost deeply into the fragrance, enough that he simply stop walking and stop in the middle of his office, breathing deeply.

"MIGGY YOU'RE BACKKKKKKK~~~!!!" His AI assistant suddenly yelled into his face, merely inches away. He jumped at the way he was abruptly forced to come back to reality. Eyes quickly blinking at the bright face in front of his own, he tried to calm himself and remain composed. What had happened to him to have this kind of reaction? He didn't know but he was mostly sure it wasn't something a night of sleep couldn't cure. Too bad he would most likely not get any sleep today.

"Hi, Layla." He replied with a sharpness to his voice as he slid his hand over his face, to both wake himself up and try to get the scent off of him. It helped, at least for now, and he quickly focused his attention back on his assistant.

"So, how was today?" He asked with uninterested eyes, already used to the boring reports he was met with every day now.

"Oh, you know the usual, a few anomalies here and there, today has been quite a furnish day." He only groaned in acknowledgment while he made his way to his station, his eyes already searching through the holograms depicted to find any important information.

"And the new recruit, you know the one from that dimension? Yeah well, she came with Gwen and Jess like you said, and my my~~~" He brought his eyes back to her blinking form just to hear about that new member of their society, but almost regretted it immediately judging by the eyes she was giving him.

"What?" He said unamused, his body still facing the holograms whilst only his head faced her, eyebrows raised in confusion.His arms fell back onto his sides as he glared at her. He could feel the amusement practically oozing from her form.

"Well, you could have told me she was basically the opposed gender version of you Miggy~~" She teased, and his eyes almost rolled back into his head at her absurdness.

"She got the fangs and everything~" She flickered to his right. " A perfect carbon copy."

He almost wanted to rip that grin from her face, but he couldn't. He should've made her a solid form for this kind of occasion.

"Your point?" He said, gaze going back to the displays. it seemed this conversation was already doomed before it even started. She must have had a stupid idea and convinced her that teasing him about it for who knows how much longer would make her day. The headache that left him just moments prior seemed to come back full force at her nonsense.

"My point..." She waited for him to look at her once more, but when he simply ignored her, she chose to continue her plan.

" Is that she would be a perfect match.<3"

His entire frame looked rock solid from the moment the words escaped her, tension rising immediately around the two. She could see the way he tried to maintain his claw and fangs retracted while attempting to calm himself down. Just enough to shut her down she was sure.

Too soon it seems…

When their eyes met again, her brown eyes faced the dangerous tint of blood-red iris, if she could shudder she most likely would have. But since she couldn’t she just floated there, smiling kindly at her boss, as if she didn't just sign her death warrant. The only noise around was the snaping of the railing that bore the display's projectors, causing them to flicker for an instant. With a quick glance she saw her boss’s hand almost ripping the whole thing off while he tried to stay calm.

"You should get out before I lose my temper, Lyla." He warned, his fangs shining brightly into the dim lighting, furthering his intimidating tone.

But she knew he couldn't do anything to her, even in those kinds of moments when his DNA seemed to take over him.

So she held his glare for a few more seconds before backing down, as if nothing had happened. Closing her eyes, she flickered away to give him time to calm himself before coming back to the real subject of today.

"She seems strong enough to enter the rank if you asked me, as well as both Jess and Gwen, without her it would've been way messier to bring those anomalies back to where they belonged after all." The sound of slowly calming breathing was the only thing she was met by.

"Like you asked she got her Gizmo and went through 'the explaining thing'" She paused for a moment before murmuring to herself in a fond voice. " I almost thought she was going to bawl her eyes out in front of everybody when she learned what happened."

His back tensed again, okay maybe that wasn't the best thing to say.

"Anyhow, she took it all like a champ and went back to her dimension. We told her to keep the Gizmo on at all times and that we will contact her soon enough." She finished going back next to Miguel when she noticed his lack of agitation.

"But you must already know all that from Jess so I'm just repeating."

She acted like she was looking at her nails while she subtly eyed the screen he was facing, even if she already knew what he was gazing so fondly at. It was the only thing that seemed to effectively calm him down after all.

His lack of response was enough for her to know what to do next. She had tried her luck enough for the day, retreating now was the best decision to make for both their sake.

"I'm just gonna head out if you don't need me~~," She said as she quickly flickered off, leaving him with the all too well-known images of that young girl.

It was now well into the night, but that didn't prevent the IA assistant from suddenly appearing before the frame of her boss, deep into a soudless slumber. Her holograms hovered silently over the body of her creator, a neutral expression painted on her two-dimensional face, unlike her usual cheerful smile despite some serious situations.

Her eyes landed on the tired bags below his own, the traces of stress and worry still very much visible on his sleeping complexion. It was easy to spot the tension on his jaw as he clenched it tight, still unable to fully relax even in his sleep. His brows formed a small frow that she almost thought to be cute before remembering what the man was surely going through right now.

Bad dreams for him since that event had become normality, a simple fact that would happen no matter what he tried to get rid of them, and as his digital assistant, there wasn't so much she could do to help besides advising him. Which he most of the time chose to ignore, deciding to once again overload himself with work.

She closed all the tabs currently opened with a swing of her hand, after making sure that the work had been correctly saved. He would kill her if she mistakenly deleted his night's worth of work.

The place was now much darker, except for the background neon and its soft glow.

Looking back at him, she almost regretted not having a physical body, as she wasn't able to so much as put a blanket to keep him warm in this cold-ass room. Quickly dismissing the silly thought, she turned away from him to let him rest. He will definitely scold her after realizing she let him sleep through work but she knew he would nonetheless appreciate the sleep.

As she traveled into the building network to find tasks yet to be completed by other Spiders, she thought back to the woman they had just welcomed into their rank and her boss.

He can say everything he wants but from what I saw when they both entered this room they did seem ready to fuck each other on the spot if they could've. I wonder if it's because of both their modified genes, no other Spiders reacted this strongly to the scent of strangers... They usually do that with a partner...

How much effort would it take to make them fall for each other? I will talk to Jess and Peter when they come back. Hihi~~ They will be as exacted as me on this I'm sure~~

You tried to break free, you really did, but your strength seemed comparable to an ant fighting against a bear against the grip the tall man had on your forearm. Water quickly gathered in your eyes, stinging and making you go slowly blind as your whole body attempted to break free from the deadly hold.

"LET ME GO!!" You yelled from just above the ground, feet scrapping the floor in an attempt to slow your progress down. The sound of the heavy steps of the man, your first sobs, and your worn shoes dragging along the floor echoed dreadfully in your ears. You had tried to bite, scratch, punch your way out but nothing had worked. The arm that had you trapped was now bloody and bruised and despite that, the man didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Determined to bring you to wherever you were both indubitably heading, against your best efforts.

The world around you was small as you walked through seemingly never-ending corridors, only lit by blinking and old light every few meters. The humidity of the alley left no doubts in your mind that this place had been abandoned for years now and nobody would find you if something were to happen today.

"Just let me.." You struggled with all the strength you had left against his grip, making your entire frame shake for the desperate movements. "let ME GO- I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!DAMNIT!"

Your free hand desperately punched and tried to free your other from him, but to no avail, and you almost went completely numb as the situation finally downed onto you. You gasped as you tries to get free slowly came to a halt, your body stopping completely, as your eyes grew wide and you stumbled on your feet, still being carried away.

You had no way out, you could do anything to make as much as make him look your way went your tried to break free. You were like a child being forced to follow their parent along a predestined path, unable to break the hold despite your many tries. Only following blindly like a boneless doll.

A new emotion took over your mind immediately after the realization- numbness. Acceptation. You wouldn't get out of here, so why bother struggling anyway? Whatever you would try or not, you didn't compete with the pure mass of muscles the man holding you was…if you were lucky he was just going to kill you.

Your body fell down, unable to stand without the will on your part. If it wasn't for your arms still firmly held, you would have fallen face-first into the dirty concrete floor. Your knees hurt as you were dragged along the never-ending path by the man. You could hear the fabrics of your pant slowing giving away because of the never stopping scrapping. But you couldn't bring yourself to care enough. Why would you care about some pants? Knowing your luck they would most likely be torn off in no time the moment you would reach your destination.

Your other, free hand twitched as it was too dragged along the rhythmic steps of the man, but you could gather the strength to keep it off the floor. Even as you felt your irritated skin starting to break away because of the dragging, your mind didn't let you feel the sting of pain that should follow. Blocking every reason that would pull you out of your protective trance.

"Ahh finally~~ I thought you got lost in the tunnels~~ Did you bring the one I specifically asked for??" A feminine voice squealed as your body entered a brightly lit room. With eyes still looking blankly at the floor, your face didn't show the slightest discomfort at the sudden change of lightning, completely disconnected from you.

The man didn't respond to what should certainly be a woman, and for a fraction of a second, you were grateful, at least that reduced the chance of being raped.

Keyword: reduced.

Your body was suddenly lifted up, dangling lifelessly a few centimeters from the ground thanks to the stature of the man. Your mouth only let out a small whine at the harshness of the movement, leaving a distant burn engraved into your wrist.

Your head was low, facing away from each individual, trying desperately to escape the situation, and if not physically at least psychologically.

But your 'peace' was quickly interrupted as you felt the disgustingly dry pulp of fingers gripping firmly your chin, forcing a wave of repulsion to go across your entire body. Making you shiver in the slightest.

Your head was yanked up without as difficulty as you thought there would be, for you thought you had put quite a resistance. But once more your strength seemed like one of a mere infant compared to those two. Unable to do much more than cry for mercy or put up the most inefficient of fights.

You hated the feeling of those fingers squishing so hard on your cheeks, along with the constant, now more persistent burn in your hand, reminding you of your current posture.

"Look at this Beauty~~~," The woman said in pure delight, and despite your instincts screaming you not to, you could stop your heavy-lidded eyes as they slowly rose up to meet the ones of that woman.

A sensation of dread fill you near the spot as your eyes met those wicked ones. Even in your state, your mind could still recognize danger when it saw it, and the mere eye contact between the two of you was enough for your brain to function, even if for just a moment.

Full of adrenaline, you tried once more to free yourself. But this time not from the man, no, he was a mere threat in comparison to what that woman was. He only seemed to obey her orders, didn't look like he was doing that for his own wicked nature but for some other surely more important reason.

But that woman, from the simple look you got of that slight glint in her eyes, the most unperceivable grin upward as she finally got to land her eyes on her next captives... Who were you fooling? Captive? No, against this woman you bore no such title, it would imply that you were captured and had some chance to actually escape your current situation, alive or not.

But in those eyes, you saw exactly what you were considered to be for her- a mere object here to satisfy her curiosity, her appetite for whatever sickened things and experiences she had planned to make you go through.

You were not even human to her, not a person, not a being. You were nothing more than a clump of cells that happened to be sentient and from her own specie that she would gladly take pride in exploring each and every facet.

You were just like a fly already caught in the spider webs, slowly being enveloped in silk before being put away to be eaten later on. You were nothing more than a prey she would relish in devouring.

And your struggle against her grip, even with just one arm intensified, along with your uneven cries and whines for help, while you could see her pleased composure growing more savage and wicked with each one of your calls.

"She will be perfect! Perfect as one could ever be!" The woman almost spits in your face in a newfound excitement, pushing your face away and instead turning back to something you didn't try to see previously.

In front of you were spread hundred of laboratory materials, enough to humble any common laboratory you could think of, the shining glassware and technology contrasting heavily with their decrepit surroundings. And only now did you take in the way the woman dressed, all in white, a lab blouse, protective glasses, gloves everything a real scientist would need.

But you didn't need to be a genius to know that whatever that woman was, a scientist would never be the proper term to define it.

"Now can you bring her to the table? Strap her really tight unlike the last one." She said as she walked a few meters away to grab you know what from a pile undisguisable from any other, all the while you were dragged once more and roughly locked into some kind of retraining table.

"Do you know how much products I spent on that last girl only for her restraints to go loose at the most crucial point??? That solution took me months to make, and she pushed it off the table as she ran away! Completely ruined!"

"Not like she went very far.." You could hear the man mumble as he fastened the last of your restraints before putting some space between you and him.

"Any way you can go now, your payment is in the wallet next to the backdoor, with a little present from my part for all your hard work~~" She pressed him out, that grin never leaving her lips, widening as the sound of steps fading always let you know you were now both alone.

"Now dear, I'm sorry but we'll have to skip the presentation and head straight for the funny part! I know it's not your fault that you don't want to be here and all the usual bullshit but I got things to do right? And you wouldn't mind helping me out a bit wouldn't you?"

She slowly approached your table, and only the vague sound of metal echoing through your ears let you know you were actually trying to get away from her.

"Now, that isn't very polite of you. But don't worry, you'll get used to everything after a few months or so."

"But firstly got a tiny little question to ask you. Be happy, you'll get to know a little more about why you're here! Isn't it exciting?"

She paused, her back facing you as she grabbed something from behind a row of beaker and other utensils. Before her wicked eyes turned slowly back to you.

"You like spiders, don't you?"

.. What?

A pause. That's it, by now you were sure this woman had definitely lost it long ago.But the revelation didn't bring any peace to your mind, still very much in distress form her very presence.

"If you don't, worry not . I'm sure you'll like them as much as I do by the time I'm finished with you." She was now stepping away towards yet another door leading to who-knows where, a few metallic noises echoing through the silence before she reappeared, now armed with a slim but sturdy want that she quickly put on a trail not to far from where you laid.

"But first I'll need to get you all prepped up for the big deal."

Your eyes grew wide once more, your entire body jerking against the restrains. The dryness of your throat now preventing you from begging for mercy.

Her eyes, those wicked orbs that had left you free from their grip were now back on you. But now filled with a madness you only hoped to be your imagination.

In her hand was a small filled with a transparent liquid serynge, wich dripped a few drops as she made sure all the airways out.

Gulping hard, you could only stare,silent despite your screaming mind , as the first of many syringes pierced through your skin and allowed an unknown liquid to course throw your veins. Paralyzed, the only sign of your tourment was the tears that's pearled down your cheeks.

From then on, all you could remember was pain.

Tag list (tell me if you want to be added/deleted):

@stany0url0calwh0res111 @mira-dystopiancore @smotheredinlighterfluid @vvitcxen @st4rrlighttt @mstozierr @maxi-ride @miguelsmainb @autismsupermusicalassassin @bluevenus19 @jenniferdixon05207 @candlewitch-cryptic @ahoeformyself @rxionv

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sailxrmxrs · 1 year

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somehow it's been this long and this is the first alhaitham fic i've written oops. i think about him a lot so this is the culmination of that tbh. just him being overworked and tired after the events of the archon quest so someone has to make him rest even for a little while before he returns to the mountain of akademiya related paperwork. fun fact i actually wrote this like a month and a half ago for a side project but then didn't crosspost here bc i forgot lmao. anyway take a slice of comfort with everyone's favourite akademiya scribe turned acting grand sage and his architect roommate.

Night fast approached the skies of Sumeru City, the vestiges of the afternoon sunlight beginning to fade into a familiar darkness. Stalls in the Grand Bazaar were beginning to close, merchants and craftsmen preparing to return to their homes for a night of peaceful sleep before the cycle of work began all over again. Students of the Akademiya littered its high walls, many retreating to the House of Deana in the hopes of finding the perfect research study to complement their own academic work. Countless students were preparing for a long night ahead of reading through texts and tomes of all kinds, oncoming deadlines the primary motivation for their dedication to the craft. For some, this was an enjoyable task, the pressure of time resulting in optimal conditions to produce a perfectly sound piece of research. For many others, however, the rush was nothing more than the cause of undeterminable volumes of stress that seeped into every facet of life—even those beyond the Akademiya’s walls. Alhaitham had always belonged to the former group, pressure and expectation doing little to shake his spirit. As a student he’d rarely found himself amongst the collection of students with far too little time left to tackle all of their ongoing projects; his tutors and seniors always praised him for being so diligent. Since becoming the Akaedmiya’s Scribe, Alhaitham had found his work demand increase substantially, especially since the recent scandal involving the Akademiya’s Grand Sage and his accomplices.

Talks were still continuing as to who might replace the former Sages and as long as a decision had yet to be made, Alhaitham’s workload would see no slowing point. Such a fact did not bother him particularly. Keeping busy was all part of why he had become a scholar in the first place, after all. Although he did rather miss being left to his own devices archiving documents or sitting in the background of important meetings, taking notes without any need to contribute to the discussions. Nowadays, far more people seemed to pay attention to him and his presence than before. It was a change Alhaitham longed to see disappear once the former Sages’ positions were filled once again. Still, even with his newfound notoriety, Alhaitham remained an unchanged individual. The additional workload was all part of the job and he strived to complete anything thrown his way with utmost speed. Such a dedication to the job, no matter how admirable, was ultimately detrimental to one’s health, physical or otherwise. Alhaitham knew better than most the outcome of pushing one’s body too far.

He was usually not one to stay past his working hours, leaving any outstanding tasks for the following morning, but with the sudden pile of work thrown his way by the Akademiya, Alhaitham was left with little choice but to extend his work hours long into the night. The past weeks had left him near glued to his desk with no chance for respite in sight. More often than not he’d end up just staying there the entire night, taking a nap on the lounge chair that sat against the wall of books decorating his office and calling it a suitable night of sleep. Even now it had been a few days since he’d last returned home. Alhaitham supposed he should probably show his face there soon and prove to his roommate, Kaveh, that he hadn’t disappeared entirely. Though, admittedly, he was rather enjoying the peace and quiet from his roommate's presence. Easier to stay in his office all night than be bothered and woken by the architect making noise in the witching hour as he worked on some new project. Unlike Alhaitham, Kaveh was a chronic procrastinator and thrived in the early hours of the morning when Alhaitham usually preferred to sleep.

Alhaitham sighed to himself, fingers massaging at his aching temples. He'd been sitting at his desk far too long and words were starting to blur into one another, a sign that he should probably stop soon—or at the very least, take a break. A part of him was tempted to listen. Tempted to set aside all the paperwork that weighed on his shoulders and make the quick walk back home where he could sleep undisturbed until the sun came up once more. Then there was the side of him that whispered in his ear how a selection of the documents on his desk needed to be read through and organised in time to be submitted during a meeting the following morning. This was going to be a long night. One that required another mug of coffee as soon as physically possible.

Meanwhile, Kaveh walked the streets of Sumeru City. He relished in the cooler temperatures that evening brought with it, the sun’s seemingly everlasting warmth having finally begun to fade. Few people lined the streets of the city, though plenty of cheers from the jovial patrons of Puspa Café could be heard as he strolled past. The place never lacked in waves of energy especially during those final hours of sunlight before the moon rose and called them all to their homes. On any other night Kaveh might consider joining the throng of people revelling in the atmosphere, but tonight he had one specific goal in mind: To drag his roommate back to their shared home. Usually Kaveh did not like to volunteer himself as Alhaitham’s caretaker, companion, or even acquaintance. In fact, most barely knew the two were acquainted, let alone living together for a time. However, despite their differences, Kaveh did care somewhat for Alhaitham's wellbeing. It didn't take much to notice the increased whispers around the Akademiya of Alhaitham's new position, nor the sheer amount of work and responsibility forced upon him. Kaveh had barely believed it the first time he caught wind of Alhaitham's seniority but if his roommate's sour attitude was anything to go by, then it became undoubtedly clear he was being held at his office far longer than he wanted to be.

Usually Alhaitham would be home like clockwork to get some well earned rest before the daily cycle began once again and also check that Kaveh hadn't yet destroyed the place with all of his blueprints and models. Of course if you asked Kaveh, he'd proclaim how he strived himself on being an exceptional roommate who gave Alhaitham no reason to doubt his behaviour. If you asked Alhaitham, however, the Scribe would be inclined to disagree. Even still, despite their differences it was strange for Alhaitham to not have returned home by now. Sensing something wasn't quite right, Kaveh pulled himself away from his current project planning and made his way to the Akademiya in search of some answers. Walking through the Akademiya at this time of day sent chills down Kaveh’s spine, reminding him of all the nights he spent pouring his brain over documents to eventually throw together for his thesis. He did not miss those days. A student passed him in the corridor, dark circles beneath their eyes and a stack of books with loose papers messily slotted between in their arms. He definitely did not miss those days.

Upon arriving at Alhaitham’s office door, Kaveh didn't bother to knock and instead walked straight in. The sight that he was greeted with was even worse than expected. If you asked Kaveh any other day he’d answer that Alhaitham never looked good, but today? This was something else entirely. He looked positively ghostly. More than anything, he looked as though he needed to sleep for an entire week. His face was paler than usual and his eyes bore evidence of a disturbance to his sleep schedule. Kaveh didn't doubt that Alhaitham had been sleeping, if the blanket strewn across the lounge chair was anything to go by, but even a subtle change to Alhaitham's schedule was enough to throw him off kilter.

“What are you doing in my office? Is seeing you at home not punishment enough?” Alhaitham spoke, his voice sounding just as tired as his appearance suggested. It seemed the Scribe did not lose his sharp tongue even in the throes of exhaustion.

“Hilarious. Interesting you mention our home when you’ve barely even been there this last week.”

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow as he sat back in his chair. “Oh? Did someone miss me?”

A frustrated sigh escaped Kaveh’s lips, a frequent occurrence in these bouts with Alhaitham. Despite the anger that threatened to swell upon witnessing the smug expression that decorated Alhaitham’s face, Kaveh remained steadfast and determined. He wasn't losing this fight. “Not as much as you clearly miss sleep. When was the last time you slept in an actual bed?”

“Is that an offer?”

“If you don’t give me an honest answer I can and will drag you by that stupid cape of yours through the streets of Sumeru until I force you to rest. I get that you’re Mr Popular right now at the Akademiya but that’s not an excuse to hole up in your office for days. What happened to the Alhaitham who was up and out of his office the second his work hours ended?"

Alhaitham stayed in his seat, entirely unmoved by his roommate’s arrival in his office. “I have little choice in the matter. Not that it’s any interest of yours, but I have paperwork to do.”

“One of these days I’m going to be responsible for severely injuring the Akademiya’s precious Scribe. Actually, that might be a good idea to get you to finally leave that damn desk.”

Alhaitham sighed as he rose from his chair. He knew deep down that Kaveh was right for once. He despised being in his office any longer than necessary and with every hour that passed, Alhaitham could feel his body weighing heavier and heavier. The need for rest was all-too-present and he knew ignoring it would do him no good. “If you’re going to be a pain in my ass here at least wake me up in an hour,” he instructed as he collapsed onto the lounge chair, eyes already closed and pulling him under.

“What do you think I am? Your personal alarm?” Kaveh scoffed, indignance sinking into every pore of his skin at the sight of Alhaitham already fast asleep. How the man could pass out so quickly was beyond Kaveh.

“Insufferable idiot.” His attention turned toward Alhaitham’s desk and the paperwork that adorned it, all different kinds of documents both for his usual tasks as Scribe in addition to all the notes regarding the assignment of the new Sages. It was all far too much for one person to manage alone.

“I suppose this work won’t finish itself, will it?” Kaveh took a seat at Alhaitham’s desk and prepared himself for the following hour of filing through everything. He might bicker and fight with his roommate a great deal, but he could set that aside for tonight. Just tonight.

#genshin impact fanfic #alhaitham fanfic #kavetham #wow it's not an x reader for once look at me go #i love alhaitham and kaveh's dynamic a lot okay they're both so babygirl in such different ways #also don't perceive how long it took me to edit this for tumblr and post it #or how long it took to actually write something for alhaitham the man has been living in my head rent free for MONTHS #this is also my formal apology to the people who are on the receiving end of my alhaitham brainrot on a daily basis #you are stronger than any 5 star for putting up with my alhaitham related bs #anna writes

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beechersnope · 1 year

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For kink writing meme: boot licking. Any fandom

went crazy, went stupid with this. and surprise! i picked true detective. hopefully all of this is satisfactory as i have never written either this pairing or this kink & i wrote about half of this on the side of the road on my phone.

warnings for period-typical transphobia/misgendering, dubious consent, undernegotiated kink, and general unsanitary-ness.

***

The alley smells like piss. Marty doesn’t even know what they’re doing here, why they need to have some big discussion about what happened back in the club. It’s not important. It doesn’t matter. They should both just forget it. Marty was drunk anyways.

"I always thought you was a—" Marty stops, swallows hard, unsure of the current politically correct terminology. Not even really confident that Rust would find that acceptable, even if Marty did know.

"Spit it out, Marty." Rust’s gaze is blank, impassive, like it always is.

"Like, a lesbian, or something."

Marty doesn’t pretend to know anything Rust hadn’t told him firsthand, but the guys at the precinct talked. Even Rust knew they talked. It was something they both chose to ignore, and Marty tries to be accommodating, he does, even when Rust monologues about gender as a transcendent facet of the eternal universe or whatever the fuck— He even tries to be delicate about how he speaks about Rust with the others when Rust isn’t in the room, talking in circles so he doesn’t have to use anything but ‘Cohle’. It makes Marty sick somehow to hear the other guys referring to Rust as a woman, even if the reality of Rust is wholly at odds with the concept of the soft, pretty wives they go home to at the end of the night. But he’s obviously not a man, either, so.

"Or something,” Rust replies, oblivious to the acidic thoughts putting holes in Marty’s alcohol-soaked brain. “Are you a lesbian, Marty?" For some reason, the question doesn't feel like a joke.

"No." Marty can't help but feel as though his answer is being taken for some kind of binding contract, the terms to which he has not been made privy.

"Get on your knees."

Marty kneels. He's surprised how much it hurts, the gravel in the alley behind the strip club digging into his knees through the fabric of his slacks.

“You spilled your beer on my boots,” Rust says in an oddly calm tone. His expression still hasn’t changed, the strange taut planes of his face relaxed in way that has Marty feeling even more ill at ease. “I think you should clean them up.”

Marty stares down at Rust’s beer-splattered combat boots. He’d gotten dressed up before they met at the club, the nearly flat planes of his chest all-too visible under the ribbed tank-top and leather jacket. That had been what set Marty off in the first place. He hadn’t even noticed the boots. Now he can’t take his eyes off them.

When Marty lifts his hands to his collar to undo his tie, Rust tuts. “No, Marty,” he scolds. “Use your mouth.”

Marty hesitates this time. They’re outside between the dumpsters. It’s not exactly private. If someone walks out of the club and sees them like this—with Marty licking Rust’s boots—he doesn’t think they’re going to stop to ask questions.

Then he thinks, what the hell. They both have firearms.

Marty presses his palms into the gravel, savoring the bite of it against bare skin, and leans down to press his mouth against Rust’s boot.

Marty doesn’t just taste leather and stale beer as he licks over each boot in turn. His tongue feels hypersensitive, the feeling shooting straight to his dick as he drags it over the texture of the laces going up past Rust’s ankle, the cold metal rivets, the thick bands of tight stitching holding everything in place.

When Rust finally opens his mouth to utter another order, Marty feels dazed in a way that can’t be explained by the alcohol. He doesn’t know how long he was hunched over on his knees like a dog, licking beer and god-only-knows what else from Rust’s grimy combat boots.

"Now lean back,” Rust says, taking a step backwards, away from Marty. “Against the wall."

Again, Marty obeys. Without question. Marty isn't sure what to expect when Rust reaches down to unbuckle his own belt before unzipping his jeans as well, but he's pretty sure there's not going to be a cock in his face in the next five seconds. Marginally sure, anyway. Who fucking knows, with Rust.

When Rust places the thick rubber sole of his boot in the cradle of Marty's thighs without moving his hands from his belt, Marty lets out a pathetic little cry that is quickly drowned out by the gritty rock emanating from within the club. He can feel the bass through the wall, pulsing through him. It feels like it's inside him on an atomic level. That's some shit Rust would say, he immediately thinks to himself. Maybe Rust is rubbing off on him in more ways than one.

The pressure of Rust's spit-shiny boot increases steadily, pressing along the length of Marty's cock where it's straining against his slacks. The feeling produces a dull ache in his balls, even though Rust hasn't applied any force there. Yet.

"Do you think you could come like this?" Rust asks.

Marty shakes his head. He doesn't like pain. He doesn't like--whatever Rust is. Doesn't matter if he's hiding a cunt between his legs, he tells himself, like a reminder, a plea. Marty doesn't want this. Doesn't want him.

Rust presses the boot down a little harder, grinding the toe just beneath the head of Marty's cock. "Try," he says.

Marty watches open-mouthed and panting as Rust spreads his own legs a little wider, shoves a hand down the front of his jeans, and closes his eyes.

Rust comes first, the grunt that pours out of his throat surprisingly deep, a perfect foil for the reedy whimpers that stream from Marty’s lips as Rust continues to frot his boot against Marty’s cock. Then Marty comes, too, unexpectedly, warmth spilling out onto the inside of his briefs, soaking through them so quickly that for a brief moment he wonders if something’s wrong, if Rust broke his dick somehow. Then he doesn’t think much of anything, Rust’s hand tangled in what hair he has left, pulling his face in close to the apex of Rust’s thighs until Marty loses himself entirely in the acrid, salty-sweet smell of Rust’s cunt.

#my fic #idk how to tag this i'm 0% involved in this fandom #rust x marty #marty x rust #ask meme

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dollsonmain · 9 months

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Since I'm feeling complainy

Another thing I've seen a bunch on YouTube and Instagram lately is "marriage advice" kinds of videos which I generally ignore because that is not at all a one-solution-fits-all kind of situation but one I see a lot lately is NEVER talk to anyone but your spouse about problems you have with your spouse.

And I'm like...

Sometimes you need an outside perspective. Sometimes you need someone else to say "I think you're overreacting because..." and sometimes you need them to say "What the fuck that's not right......" Sometimes you need community and the experience of others to understand the situation you are in.

Sometimes the only way you know you're being abused is by talking about it with someone else, and them telling you that no, that is NOT normal, not ok, and you didn't do anything to cause them to act like that, that's abuse.

Sometimes the only way to escape abuse safely is with the help of others.

I don't understand this "keep it secret, keep it safe" mentality when it comes to dealing with some of the more important facets of life. This kind of "never talk about it" is how people keep getting away with emotional and financial abuse.

Another lady's video simply said something like "There's a difference in talking shit about someone and talking about the shit they've done." and I agree.

Anyway, that's why I talk about things like That Guy and my kidney stone surgeries and all of the unexpected and icky things that have happened because of them and stuff because pretending like it's some big no-no to discuss literally anything uncomfortable doesn't help anyone.

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thesherrinfordfacility · 11 months

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I love TV Crowley and I don't think he's a bad/unfaithful adaptation of book Crowley I just. I wish that when he says things like "I'm going to run off to Alpha Centauri" or something along those lines, about abandoning the Earth, more emphasis is placed on the fact that He Would Not Actually Go Through With That. Like for as much as he threatens to do so, when it comes down to it he truly cannot bring himself to up and leave the humans like Gabriel and Beelzebub did. It would grate on him and he'd end up turning right back around and I want something other than Aziraphale to be the clear, immediate reason for it. Crowley notably hates the 14th century and that was the century where over a third of the population (245 million people) died due to a combination of the Great Famine and the Black Death. I think about that sometimes idk.

hi (again?) nonnie!!!✨ you're good dw, i got what you were saying and it's perfectly valid; ultimately as i added to the tags of the last ask, for many reasons it's difficult to accurately translate a character to screen when you don't have the more overt narration of their internal thought processes, because these give great influence to how the reader should view the character.

its not at all bad (the way that book crowley was depicted in tv crowley), there are elements i like about each more than i do about vice versa (same for aziraphale, and anathema, and madame tracy and- you get the idea), but he is in many ways different. and i trust that maybe we'll see the other facets of crowley's character in s3, by nature of s3 perhaps being more solid in the original plan for the GO story in general (again, bc t+n discussed it)... particularly those traits demonstrated more in the book, because if there's a particular season where i think this is going to necessary, it's that one.

might be worth having a read of this first ask that i got from LWA✨ (if youre new here, first of all welcome! and second, Longwinded Anon/LWA is a legend in these halls for dropping their analysis of different elements of the story and characters in my ask box from time to time... they have truly elevated my way of thinking about the story that's perhaps a tad more critical than most, but i think that's important!!!). anyway, this ask has a bit of critique on book vs show crowley that might of interest!!!✨

#in this house all opinions are valid if you can argue them well enough #we entertain all schools of thought here especially critique #this is a safe space✨#good omens #ask #crowley meta

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danse--macabre · 3 months

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trans astarion headcanons

talked to this about a few people individually, and decided to make a big old post.

so for starters: we are talking transmasc astarion. raised in some fancy smancy magical elf town. saw himself as a boy/man from a young age. transition was both easy and culturally accepted: transitioned young, magical t, bottom/top/whatever surgery etc. the works, ka-pow level 9 spell of here's your tits blasted off. he wanted it, he got it. he didn't quite conform entirely to the androgynous elven ideal, so to celebrate being hot and himself, travelled all the way from whatever fancy smancy elf settlement he was from to Baldur's Gate to make his big splash debut as a newly minted t-Man - and ran headfirst into becoming flamboyant law school frat boy, party boy slut who was pulling right left centre like a fucking conveyor belt, they were lining up (hey, what a better way to debut becoming sexy, lads?). still, smart enough to pass his exams despite the wild parties the night before, and well-connected, schmoozes his way into a successful respectable career aged 39 using his fraternity/society/elite men's club contacts to get there (and well, if he previously fucked some of them when in law school, who cares!). he's having the time of his life, enjoying loving his body very much, thank you.

and then he becomes a vampire. and he's frozen in time looking like this.

(cw: discussions of transphobia, misgendering, & trans fetishisation)

and at first, who cares -- this was always what he was supposed to look like, he's immortalised as this - as his peak - and you know the way youth is just lionised, put on a pedestal in queer spaces, he decides he doesn't fucking care. it's a relief.

(the quiet realisation he'll never grow old in his beautiful body, that maybe he had more growing to do, much more of himself to become, sometimes bristles at his subconscious -- but he bats it away in the same way he bats away things like 'hope' or 'optimism'. he doesn't have space for that while being crushed.)

anyway. two narrative possibilities here, in the vampire years:

fetishisation. transness becomes his entire sexual appeal, rather than part of who he is more broadly. lures chasers who are desperate to get their horrible hands on a hot t-boy, who often want him to perform in demeaning ways that may undercut his gender/misgender him. leans into the parts of astarion's narrative where he is often reduced to a sex object.

erasure. people believe he is cis, fuck him like he is cis, expect him to behave like he is cis. and he almost forgets he is trans. he becomes detached from that part of himself almost entirely - were it not for visual signals (e.g. top surgery/phallo scars that cannot fade over time), he'd do so. leans into the out-of-body dissociation elements occurring instead.

anyway, nautiloid happens, game happens. astarion doesn't pretend he's NOT trans, it's just something he tends to dismiss as 'not very important', and straight up won't come up until act 2. this minimising approach allows him some control over his narrative even if it is avoiding a difficult truth: others hurt him because he was trans, objectified him because he was trans, or simply didn't want engage with something they considered unpleasant.

we get to the final choice. a key facet of spawn vs. ascended astarion is acceptance versus denial. ascended astarion convinces himself that being a spawn is a demeaning experience where one would be better off dead, and uses that to justify killing 7k spawn (as well as part of himself). classic "accept oneself; live in pride vs. deny oneself; live in shame" queer dilemma. so it follows that astarion's journey with his transgender identity develops along those lines.

spawn astarion embraces his transness, and makes efforts to be trans in his own terms -- rather than for the gratification of others. he embraces his gender non-conformity and much more and is so much more playful with gender. this could develop into becoming genderfluid/non-binary gender where his particular mode of effeminate masculinity develops into something like 'sometimes I'm a she/her in stockings actually, but I'm never a woman', something he can only really embrace when he is no longer living in crisis mode, can accepts himself as a trans person, and knows he does not need to exist to be desirable to others. regardless of whether he's non-binary or simply gnc, i think it takes a fair bit of confidence & bravery for him to play with gender knowing it might jeopardise people reading him as masc, but he's tired of living for others wants & eyes.

ascended astarion in contrast, lives in denial about his transness. tries to convince you he's a cis man. and yes, he might be able to pass seamlessly, but he's quietly miserable.

#astarion

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violexides · 1 year

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i don’t know how to phrase my point admittedly without getting heated or convoluted BUT. i think for lesbians especially it is critically important that you engage with lesbian spaces off of the internet and have your queer experience as offline as possible. because while there are many lesbians online that have helped me redefine my attraction in a more affirming and healthy way, i feel as if online lesbian communities are sometimes... not very welcoming of lesbians, in a backwards way. as a person who rarely, if ever, experiences attraction to guys, i still feel deeply unsafe in spaces where lesbianism is defined BY the lack of attraction to men, as its sole facet. obviously that’s important for a lot of lesbians experiences-- not being attracted to boys growing up, fun fact, played a major role in the homophobia i faced and trauma i endured! but i think this being the fixation point, rather than just a part of the story, cycles back on itself and makes lesbian spaces feel very unsafe.

which is why like, interacting with queer people IRL is very helpful! because being around my queer friends is like... i’m a lesbian, but i can still talk to them about wanting a dick without them pushing me on what that means for my sexuality. i can make side comments about finding some men attractive without people immediately assigning the label of bisexual to me (which is a fine label i’ve gone by at certain periods of my life, but just isn’t very expressive of my experience). and i interact with a lot of sapphics who love men and women and a lot of bisexuals who mostly date men but find a lot of girls hot, and lesbians who are exclusively attracted to women and some lesbians who have some interest in men. and i think the spectrum of experience is so much broader when you actually can engage with real-life people on this because it’s a lot more validating? i don’t know, that might just be a me thing, but i don’t particularly find many internet spaces great for talking about how my mom wants me to still marry a guy and my brother wants me to stay away from men entirely. because that’s just my experience and i think that’d get distorted here.

i don’t know. i get it, i think, because there’s a part of me that still gets reactionary to the fact that like... my experience is not being attracted to men, most of the time, and i want a space to discuss that and how that’s affected me. but that’s... there’s a lot more space for that in the world than you think. there’s a lot more space for mspec lesbians in real life than you think. both groups have existed in history for years. and i think what was healthiest for me is like... stop trying to build my community here. start looking for ways i can find my community off the internet, because that’s safer.

i don’t really know how to articulate all this so i’m sort of rambling. but anyway that’s why i get angry when i see people who are anti-mspec lesbians, or anti-lesbians who identify as men. because when you look at lesbian history, and look at who we are in the world, there’s such a wide spectrum of what lesbianism looks like. and that’s beautiful. dykes that are men, femmes that are attracted to women but are married to men, dyke4femme and femme4femme and dyke4dyke and bisexual4lesbian. queer4queer

maybe it boils down to this: in the world, i find solidarity with experiences that are different to mine. online, there are many forces trying to dissolve that solidarity. and i think that’s really important for lesbians to know, who might not be cis, or who have/had sex with men, or who have/had dated men, or who just don’t fucking know but they KNOW that lesbianism is important to them.

read the archives. support dyke marches. i know it’s not possible for everyone; if you can’t interact with people face-to-face about it, try to learn the history in the area you live in. archives, written-pieces, photo-collections. because that history brings solace, too.

#ides.txt

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musical-chick-13 · 5 months

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so what is this fic actually about?

oh god. okay I'm going to put this under a cut because of the topics involved.

Content warning for: discussions of consent (which includes mentioning non-con themes), discussions of intense kink practices, and references to cult-related trauma as per DW canon.

I will continue tagging all posts about this fic, as well as posting the fic itself, with "The Fic That's A Lot," as well as "c2g" which is an abbreviation of its title.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS IN ANY WAY, I MEAN IT

I am going to be frank, this fic is about CNC. If you don't know what that is...well, it's highly probable this is not the story for you. But I will provide an explanation anyway if anyone's curious.

CNC stands for, in this context, "Consensual Non-Consent," which probably seems like an oxymoron. It refers to people roleplaying a fictional scenario where one of the parties involved pretends (key word pretends) to object to, protest, or otherwise not want to participate in a sexual encounter--this is what the "non-consent" part of the name refers to. Meanwhile, the other party pretends (again, key word pretends) to coerce the protesting party into some kind of sexual activity. The parties are, in a sex/kink situation, acting out a pre-agreed scene--which is what the "consensual" part of the name refers to, that pre-agreement--of non-consent.

It is important to note that this is not the same thing as actual assault: Boundaries are intensively discussed beforehand, and everyone involved decides together on a separate safeword and/or physical movement that anyone can use to end the roleplay scene immediately. Someone may be using words like "Stop" or "No" within the scene itself because they are playing the role of someone who does not consent to what is currently happening (akin to acting in a play or a movie, where an actor has to pretend to like or dislike or approve or disapprove or want or not want various things, regardless of whether any of that matches up with who they actually are as a person--in a CNC scenario, the people are playing characters, albeit in a much, much more intense way). But if something happens in this roleplay scene that someone does genuinely object to, there is a separate mechanism (sometimes several mechanisms) serving as a way out, fulfilling the function that something like "stop" or "get away from me" would fulfill in a non-CNC encounter.

ALL OF THIS TO SAY. The premise of this particular story examines how both of these characters (this is an 11/R fic, and I am trying very hard to make sure this post doesn't end up in the show or character tags) would get to the point where they realize this is something they want to do. And then, from there, once they've separately and individually realized that: What do they discover about themselves and their relationship in the process? How do they talk about it once it becomes clear that this is something they both want? How do they feel about wanting it? How does this interact with the woman in question having a background of, essentially, being brainwashed by a cult and having her childhood stolen? And how does this situation relate to how these characters view the concepts of control and romantic love? (Honestly, even more than the CNC itself, which is something that gets frequently maligned as romanticizing/normalizing abuse when people write about it, the most controversial part of this is that I put her in the sub role and not the dom role, lmao. Which I have a whole essay in my brain on why that is based on various lines/scenes/behavior in canon, but I don't think that's important right now and also this answer is already too goddamn long.) And then, in addition to all those aforementioned things, what are some of the other facets of their relationship outside of this?

Like I have mentioned at-length. This is. A lot. There's a reason the average person does not engage with CNC. And there is a lot of communication and set up that has to happen for this to work. (I had to do. SO much research for this.) But I want to confirm that nothing actually non-consensual happens in this story. He doesn't ever come anywhere remotely near hurting her (he doesn't even actually fantasize about anything, he just realizes he Has Some Particular Ideas and then feels really bad about them). And although I'm not going to spoil specifics, they both have a very positive experience with it.

I will say, though this is dual pov, more of it is from his perspective, and he is acting out the role of the aggressor. So that's another thing people need to be mindful of if they have an interest in reading this once it's up.

#The Fic That's A Lot #c2g #I am...not sure how to tag this #tw: cult mention #tw: cnc #tw: assault mention #tw: abuse mention #minors dni #minors do not interact #nsft #I *think* that's it? if there's something else I need to trigger tag for PLEASE let me know #I am going to be turning off anonymous asks after I post this answer #I don't anticipate the people who have been following this saga in detail sending a torch-and-pitchforks mob at me but random other #people might find this post through my blog & I don't trust random other people. like I said: when people write about this #there are LOTS of accusations thrown around about 'romanticizing/normalizing assault or abuse' regardless of how it's written #and I just do NOT have the energy for that lmao #(I mean people throw around those accusations about people who do this irl too #but no irl people ARE doing anything here because this is a story)#(and honestly I really just don't think I have the right to tell people what they can or can't do in their sex lives)#and also. someone's niche fic on ao3 doesn't '''owe''' potential readers the most Nuanced Discussion Of A Topic Ever #at the end of the day these are completely fictional characters and--by virtue of being. not real--nothing anyone does in writing #can ever hurt them. just tag all your stuff correctly and make sure you know internally what your own irl values are #and remember that sometimes people are just...going to have an interest in exploring shit that you're going to find weird.#but it doesn't involve you so you've got to practice going 'huh that's weird don't like that' and move on #(<-including myself in this I also need to practice this)

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