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jalebi-weds-bluetooth · 9 months

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IPKKND + Zodiac Signs

(An in depth explanation as to why I chose the sign per character and tagging @chutkiandchotte for the wonderful analysis on zodiac pairs!)

Nani, an aries because: opinionated, headstrong, do their things their own way. Usually they take charge or situations and can be impatient, hotheaded and do not apologize (remember the whole pressurizing Arnav into marriage and never quite apologizing for her own mistakes eh?) Also Aries hate when they're taking the backseat and aren't the most important person behind the wheel of their life. An Aries needs to reminded they're a leader, not a tyrant. And a good way to make Aries made is to steal their power and Arnav constantly bickers with Nani that really he's the one making decisions, not her!

Taurus ♉️ Anjali Raizada

Anjali was Taurus because: homebody, hates big changes, stable, grounded, grateful, diligent, stubborn, but great listeners and very very dependable. And no matter what, they will overcome their obstacles. Also, Taurus does not respond well to criticism nor to change and can eventually become reckless. However, they do have strong emotions, are attracted to people who make them safe and comfortable (she initially felt deep gratitude to Shyam) and they're incredibly loyal. Great family people.

Gemini ♊️ Shyam Manohar Jha

Shyam as a Gemini comes from the unfair bias of viewing them as two faced people. But hey, the goods of gemini really applies to him! He's charismatic, has a good sense of humor, knows a little about everything, literally being a lawyer is one of the best careers a gemini could have, incredibly intelligent, perceptive (he's the first to smell what's between Arnav-Khushi and genuinely sniffs out every secret around him). He has an uncanny ability to exactly understand someone's personality, is a very good lie detector, and can easily switch based on situations. Also, he can quickly fall out of love and abandon people.

Cancer ♋️ Khushi Kumari Gupta

Khushi is Cancer because of her heightened sensitivity - otherwise she exudes all the energy of a Leo (who literally think they're the kings of the world!). Also a cancer always takes on other people's problems and that is the definition of Khushi Kumari Gupta. She has many moods (some contradictory!) but also a deep core self. It's hard for her to share her fried with others and have learned how to hide her pain to avoid burdening anyone else. She often pretends she's ok when she's not. Also, the slightest provocation gets to her! Slightly traditional, does not like change, hate surprises (remember in sangeet she had to know what's going on!). Also cancers are often in love with the idea of love! And they're terrible hiding their romantic feelings (cue a very flustered Khushi!). And Khushi cannot understand why everyone isn't a nice person. And she loves deeply, very very deeply. A romantic relationship plays a key role in her as a person and it shows!

Leo ♌️ Manorama Raizada

Mami is Leo because she is vain, has a really big personality, wants to always stand out, is very creative and is very interested in luxury! Typically Leos are bold, warm and an ultimate performers! She's brash, over bearing and loves to brag. She always wants to feel important and be the center of the universe! She hates being bossed by Nani, and hates being told what to do! But secretly hates that she doesn't have the wisdom herself! Her resentment to Payal is obvious given how she's forced to say yes to the situation! However, Mami is also very loyal and when she loves, she does love from the bottom of her heart! She loves it when she's made to feel special! And despite having a big social circle, she has a hard time opening up her heart to her few true friends and are scared of being vulnerable. Her relationship with Khushi is built on reluctant friendship and it's very sweet to see that.

Virgo ♍️ Payal Gupta

Payal is a Virgo because she's intelligent, introverted, has a difficulty expressing her emotions and likes to be needed/useful. Also, she's very very modest and is happy by the smallest gestures (so when Akash does the small thing of buying vegetables to buy potatoes, it really means a lot). And she's perfectly aware of consequences - unlike Khushi! So it makes perfect sense why she realizes her marriage cost a lot to her family and fights to tell Raizadas the truth than hiding it because she fears the worst will happen if they hide Shyam's truth! Also she appears very rational and has a deep set of feelings that is tough to see superficially. And as a Virgo it takes time for Payal to fall for Akash. Virgos usually have a great control of reality that might unfortunately overpower love at times!

Libra ♎️ Akash

Akash is Libra because he's conflict avoidant, sees every side of the picture, has a tough time making decisions and is compassionate and empathetic. And sometimes he might be so concerned about other people's feelings that he might just let other people make decisions for him (he readily agrees to cancel his own sangeet because his cousin isn't ok with it!). So it makes sense why his mom and cousin can push him over given Akash's personality. Akash doesn't exhibit the other aspects of Libra because honestly we don't see much of Akash at all!

Scorpio ♏️ Arnav Singh Raizada

Arnav is Scorpio because he's completely fine with silence, one can't be sure if he's joking or serious, he has eyes that look straight into your soul and has the personality of infinite complexity. As a Scorpio, Arnav is always scanning, perfectly picking pressure points to get the answer they're seeking (hence the all why farak padta hai to Khushi). And honestly, Arnav is very lonely. He has a ruthless view of the world. Everyone either wins or loses. He's blunt. He does NOT lie nor spreads lies. And Arnav is scared of nothing except vulnerability. Opening up is the scariest part because pain is familiar, hope and trust not so much. And he doesn't have a favorite color - dark is perfect. So people do fall for Arnav much faster than he'd ever fall for anyone and when he does - it's fiercely possessive. And his flirting is *phew* - you know the one to whisper, challenge, watch from the mirror, catch you staring, offer smug smiles. And as a Scorpio he is attracted to who pushes his boundaries and brings out his most intense desires and profound fears - intrigue, passion and lust. And just as much as he loves passion, he hates it too. And weirdly while he desires intensely, he hates it if it overtakes his rationality. Which is why he ends up marrying a personal who is the exact opposite of who he verbally said he'd ever want! And to go further into why he's a true blue scorpio is because he will never make his feelings known. First there's a venomous, pentrating look to test the person in front. After that, the look softens. And they usually pursue their interest with intensity of pursuing an enemy. And he will seduce Khushi with magnetism. And tbh, he is pretty loyal and can do anything for his loved ones - morality matters little (cue whatever he feels he is doing for Anjali). Also he understands emotions well and will often help Khushi even before she realizes she needs it (while violently denying anything he feels for her - also the scene where he pays off everything in the hospital)

Sagittarius ♐️ NK

NK is Sagittarius because he forms his opinions off pure emotion, is obsessed with improving himself, is very true, the friendliest person at a party and is just a fearless adventurer. He is overly aspirational, loves to learn and is incredibly open. The opposite of all of his cousins actually! He loves to have a good time, and uses his ability to tell the truth like a power - which works so well against Arnav who just does not express anything. (And he enjoys watching Arnav burn in the discomfort of his own feelings). I just love NK.

Capricorn ♑️ Mahinder Raizada

Mamaji is a Capricorn because he's motivated by duty, is responsible, disciplined and mature to a certain extent. We don't see much about Mamaji in general apart from the fact that he eloped! Lol! Which is hilarious but also understandable if he views it as a moment of weakness instead of adventure! (There's no question doubting his love for Mami though). But he is a value centric man.

Aquarius ♒️ Lavanya Kashyap

La is Aquarius because (water sign like Khushi!) is because she's often an outcast, thrives in large groups, tries to be weird, finds normalcy boring and loves freedom. She likes intelligence, is obsessed with figuring people out (terrible to be attached to a scorpio) and she doesn't see her unwillingness to compromise as selfishness. In fact she's clever, very clever and can make solid friends. And she hates it if someone tells her that she's wrong.

Pisces ♓️ Aman Mathur

Aman, my man, is Pisces only because he's amazing. I have no idea who he is. He's just there'. lol.

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Tagging: @butaneandthebeast @shiyaravi @shaonsim @thenainitaldisaster @maansiloves @muttonthings @sapnokiduniyaisalwaysbetter @bengudill @myloveforstuff @laad-governess @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @lostafpanda @magicfeltmybloop @honeybellexox @featheredclover @goals1024 @bigfatreader @simplycurlz @persephone-with-a-cat @sankititaliya @ijustchangedmyname @noor1025 @bitchy-bi-trash @thecharlesboyle @minpdnim @starzin8s @zaphbeeblebrox @white-thebeauty @bunnypassionsworld @scorpio-smiles @exosexosekai @whateverworks91

(I might be missing a lot of names so just comment below so I know!)

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd zodiac signs

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gashudouin · 1 year

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A genuine character analysis on Gashudouin:

As many people would know, Gashudouin seems a bizarre satirical ship on the nature of crackshipping in fandom. Nobody is quite sure where it originates, but one thing is for sure: Gashudouin has basis in canon-compliant Your Turn To Die, both in dynamic and narrative. Let me explain.

Gashudouin is the ship between Gashu Satou and Mr. Chidouin. The two have palpable parallels, the most prevalent on a surface level being their shifting identity; Gashu put on a farce as the Receptionist Doll, Mr. Chidouin supposedly being Meister, the supposed big boss of ASU-NARO. This in itself is an example of a contrasting parallel between the two. Gashu made himself out to be smaller than he was, lying low. Meanwhile, Chidouin built himself up to incomprehensible heights as someone who he wasn't.

The two, within the hierarchy of ASU-NARO, hold an almost similar position, yet within different fields. Gashu is the true leader of the second floor and many of the acting floor masters, although he acts as a mere puppet, a mindless doll. On the other hand, Mr. Chidouin, as Meister, appears to be the one who all of the known ASU-NARO employees seem to answer to, meanwhile, it is implied that he's a mere puppet leader. Gashu and Meister seem to be the two most loyal companions to ASU-NARO and the death game, and have been shown to give up anything and everything important to them for it.

Through this they are connected; the two would have known each other. They would have grown close, they would have grown comfortable.

This is where their personalities come into play. Gashu is a stoic man, best known for his determination towards what he sees fit and his twisted will. Quite the opposite, Mr. Chidouin is brash, bold, humourous. On the surface, it seems he values his relationships over his means. To this, they seem to fit together well. Gashu likely had a deprived childhood, which explains his behaviour as an adult rather well. Do excuse my wording for this, but Mr. Chidouin's bold behaviour is likely to be the enrichment that Gashu needs in his enclosure- a source of escape from what he's devoted himself to. For Chidouin, Gashu is a source of longevity; a reminder that he needs to stay focused in what he's doing.

The two of them go back and forth in their dynamic- one holding the other down, so they don't get absorbed in their feelings or their work. They're stable resources for the other, with many opportunities for fun and livelihood.

All in all, the most important aspect of their relationship is that they can make each other worse morally, while also making each other better emotionally. It's always important to remember that the two of them are unethical above everything else- above their families, above their core personalities, they are working for science without ethics-- that's all the death game is. It's murder for the sake of research, and both Gashu and Mr. Chidouin know and support this.

The world would shun them, but they stay strong together. That's all Gashudouin is at its core-- staying alive throughout an unethical, but in their minds, necessary time.

#gashudouin

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selinamehhh · 1 year

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just posted a new chapter to homebody and I realised that this little interlude almost works as a standalone, so why not post it here as well

The water’s turning lukewarm and most of the bubbles are gone.

The faint smell of lilies is still wafting in the air, curling around Billy in a gentle caress. Most of the light in the room comes from the open window that Billy had propped open in the middle of his bath, when the air had become too thick to breathe.

Now it’s all good though, and the scent of lilies is mixing in with the smell of the wet spring soil that’s slowly taking over everything in Hawkins. It’s in that sweet spot right before the farmers take to the fields and cover them in cow shit in preparation for the new crops. Billy breathes in deep and sinks further into his bath.

He knows he should get up, that if he stays in there any longer he’s going to get cold and the grooves on his fingers will become deeper and Eddie will make a joke about him turning old. The joke’s on Eddie though, because the guy’s older than him.

But screw it, Billy can take a little needling. The lilies, the silky softness, and the traces of bubbles are too good to let go of just yet.

He sinks deeper. The water rises up to cover his ears, and suddenly the world’s muted around him. The birds that are singing their goodbyes to the lowering sun sound so far away. He's being coddled, the water shielding him from anything that is too brash or too bold. It's a new kind of quiet, but a welcome one.

That's when the idea starts creeping in without permission, using Billy’s lax state against him. It takes him by surprise, and by the time he notices it, it’s too late.

He’s content.

An idea that’s both alarming and breathtaking at the same time. Billy submerges fully in the tepid water to stave off his panic and holds himself there for as long as he can. When his lungs start to protest and air takes precedence over everything else, Billy comes back up and wipes the soapy water off his face.

Billy will never admit it out loud, but Steve had been right back when he’d forced him into the bath for the first time. It hadn’t even been a cautious introduction, the man had just dragged Billy out of his bed one day and locked him in the bathroom with a warning that he wouldn’t be let out until he’d cleaned himself.

The bath had been set out much like it is now, with the fancy Italian bath milk and soap that gave birth to a ridiculous amount of bubbles, piling on top of one another, building little castles like the clouds above. Billy remembers having stood there, next to the bath, biting his lip as he finally gave into the temptation.

The bath had been heavenly, of course, but the thing that had really stuck with him was the smile he’d seen on Steve after he had emerged from the bathroom, skin pink and smelling of good thoughts.

Billy had never been in a bath before that and now he finds that he’s not planning on going without it ever again. It’s good for the tired ache of his scars, it sets his muscles relaxed and pliant, and gives his mind a little respite from the thoughts that circle around him like vultures looking for prey.

It’s in fact difficult to admit that Steve’s the man behind many of the bigger and better things that he now finds himself surrounded by. Almost all of them good, too. Things Billy had never encountered, never felt the need for until now. The bath’s just the tip of the iceberg here, a victory built on top of other achievements, some of them smaller and some of them just as grand if not more so.

At times it feels a bit like swimming against the current, trying to make himself comfortable with the opulence thrusted his way, but Steve never comments on it, never comments on it when Billy gets so breathless he has to leave the room or when the idea of reaching out for Steve’s offering seems so preposterous he laughs in his face.

It helps that most of the time Eddie is there too. At least ever since they had released him from the hospital and he had taken to Steve’s living room like it was in fact his domain. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s why Billy gravitates there so often now, eyes hungrily roaming the room trying to look for its benevolent ruler’s attention.

And it shouldn't be a surprise, but Eddie's always there to give it freely, and when Billy finds that words don’t come to him as easily as they should, Eddie’s there to take over the conversation and allow Billy to hide in his silence. It’s a sweet deal for all parties, because Steve takes to Eddie like ducks to water, gliding on the surface of the crystal clear affection.

Billy feels his cheeks heat up, but it must be from the bath.

There’s a knock on the door and Billy hums his response.

The door opens and there’s Steve, still in his Family Video vest and blue jeans, looking at him like the sight of Billy in his bathtub sets him at ease.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks from the doorway. Billy hums again, letting Steve to interpret that how he wills.

Steve smiles, making a part of Billy wish he could reach out and drag him closer. He could put that smile to good use, could map it with his own lips for future generations.

“There’s dinner downstairs when you’re ready,” Steve says and Billy lets the compulsion slip through his fingers like the reins of a rowdy horse. “I picked Eddie on the way home. Apparently there’s a Cheers marathon on, if you’re interested.”

“What season?” Billy asks, like he’s giving it some serious thought. Like, if Steve answers wrong, he might just stay here in the bath until a better offering comes along. As if it were possible in the first place.

Steves sees through his act and laughs.

“Just come downstairs,” he says and leaves, closing the door after him.

Billy knows he’ll get up in a second, it’s not really an option, not when he’s keenly aware that both Eddie and Steve are downstairs getting comfortable.

That’s maybe the biggest thing Steve had thrust upon him - the two of them, together emitting more power than the goddamn sun. When compared to that the bath doesn’t even come close, because how can a tub full of water not help but evaporate in the face of their blasting heat.

The warmth he gets when he curls up on the couch bookended by both men heats his skin in a different way compared to the hot water of the bath. The smell of Eddie, mixed with the remnants of an ashtray and that sweet saccharine tang of a blunt smoked in the early morning gives the lilacs a run for their money. The lapsing water against him is a far cry from when Steve’s settled into that hazy level of tiredness and lounging on the couch, hand absentmindedly coming up to comb through Billy’s curls.

They’re not much yet, still too new and tender to walk the distance that’s required of them, but Billy can see the potential, knows it's brewing underneath the horizon like he knows that the sun will rise again come morning.

It’s enough to get him out of the bath.

#harringroveson #metalsandwich #billy hargrove #my work #don't let this fool you #the actual fic is a horror story

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dweemeister · 11 months

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June 12, 2023

By Jason Horowitz and Rachel Donadio

ROME (The New York Times) — Silvio Berlusconi, the brash media mogul who revolutionized Italian television using privately owned channels to become the country’s most polarizing and prosecuted prime minister over multiple stints in office and an often scandalous quarter-century of political and cultural influence, died on Monday at San Raffaele Hospital in Milan. He was 86.

His death was confirmed in a statement by Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni, with whom he was a coalition partner in the current Italian government. No cause of death was given, but he was hospitalized last week as part of his treatment for chronic leukemia and other ailments.

To Italians, Mr. Berlusconi was constant entertainment — both comic and tragic, with more than a touch of off-color material — until they booed him off the stage. But he kept coming back. To economists, he was the man who helped drive the Italian economy into the ground. To political scientists, he represented a bold new experiment in television’s impact on voters. And to tabloid reporters, he was a delicious fount of scandal, gaffes, ribald insults and sexual escapades.

A gifted orator and showman who sang on cruise ships as a young man, Mr. Berlusconi was first elected prime minister in 1994, after the “Bribesville” scandals, which had dismantled Italy’s postwar power structure and removed his political patron, former Prime Minister Bettino Craxi, from office. Mr. Berlusconi famously announced that he would “enter the field” of politics to deliver business-minded reforms, a move that his supporters framed as a selfless sacrifice for the country but that his critics considered a cynical effort to protect his financial interests and secure immunity from prosecution related to his business affairs...

... He built an elaborate tomb for his family and friends at his villa in Arcore, outside Milan. He had a lifetime of epitaphs to choose from, uttering one candidate on one of his TV channels in 2009.

“The majority of Italians in their hearts,” he said, “would like to be like me.”

#Silvio Berlusconi #Italy #Forza Italia #Giorgia Meloni #European Union #Brothers of Italy #AC Milan #Arab Spring #Moammar Gadhafi #Mario Draghi #Vladimir Putin #love the man or hate him (more of the latter for me)... in the context of this obituary that final line was killer #and it might actually have been or still is true #obituary #New York Times

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saucysheba · 29 days

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this monster of a fic is still in chapter 1/still in beta-reading mode + story plotting, but here's a repost of what I've got so far

Chapter 1

Notes: Song Mimzy sings is 'Empty Bed Blues' by J. C. Johnson / Recorded by Bessie Smith

Bee's Knees

Neon lights crackled in greeting, vibrant pink and reds framed her name. Bold, brash and a touch tacky, just like her. A serious of taps on the door then he gave the password, but the bouncer hesitated. Alastor could only guess what all the owner had said about him since they parted. Nothing pleasant, if the stalling was anything to go by.

“Hold on. Let me ask” the doorman began, about to pull the eye slot closed, but he was quicker. Microphone-cane tiled to jam the narrow window open. “I wouldn't if I were you” ever-present grin and no malice to be detected, the promise hung in the air all the same. Slit pupils narrowed further, but there was a tremor of fear in their voice.“She's not gonna want to see you...”

He eased in close, the bouncer stepping back. A low glow to red eyes pierced the dark between. His expression didn't budge nor a change in tone, but the Radio Demon made it clear he wasn't walking away. Nor was anyone else getting in. Despite being a slight being, he seemed to take up the entire space all the same. “It's me. She'll want to see me.”

Without another word, the door unlatched and opened to him.

Spotlight in her eyes, stage beneath her dancing shoes and a fresh gin cocktail was waiting on her after this song set. Mimzy never felt at home anywhere else but this run down building. The crowd tonight was thin, but not as barren a landscape as before. Such a somber, heart-broken song to contrast her upbeat spirits, but a singer was not much off from an actress.

I woke up this mornin' with an awful aching head a gloved hand gently griped the microphone, the opposite pressed to the mentioned forehead, while behind her the pianist and trombone player accompanied.

My new man had left me just a room with an empty bed...lips painted a dark purple briefly pursed, letting her fall behind by a beat. Mimzy thought she saw a glowing set of eyes, peering out from the audience. Shaking that thought loose, she adapted her misstep to a soft ohh, leading into He was a deep sea diver with a stroke that can't go wrong.

A sly wink to one of her audience members, until his date decided to give him a not-so-discrete elbow. He can sense the bottom and his wind holds out so long a satin glove lovingly touched along the 'ribs' of the piano, tracing it's curves.

Oh, he knows how to thrill me and he knows how to thrill me night and day!

By the fourth verse, Mimzy noticed movement from the audience. Could pick up faint whispers, hushed tones and hasty footfalls. As she and the musicians built up to the chorus, the bar patrons dwindled, those glowing eyes were back. This time, Mimzy's vision had adjusted enough that she could see a triangle silhouette and yellow-grinning teeth. As the crowd dissipated, so did her enjoyment of the piece.

As Mimzy sang about her new love leaving her for a friend, static started creeping in, her assumption all but confirmed by the noise competing with her and the musicians. Chairs were reclaimed by beings crafted from shadows, all mirroring his smile. Mocking her. She was nothing if not a professional performer though, so even though her voice tightened and her expression less seductive and closer to annoyed, Mimzy saw the song through to the end.

Canned applause, the mockery of recorded laughter and whistles of a fabricated audience rang in her ears. A tight smile answered the pouring of affection from adoring phantom public.

“Thank you, thank you! My, what a turn out! Don't think I've ever seen such a packed house since the 50's!”

Whiskey was poured for him, while all around Alastor shadows made for a rousing audience. This is what she wanted after all. A crowd, all looking at her on center stage. She sang the old favorites, spared him a glance here and there, but refused to approach. Until intermission.

Although the shadows didn't need a breather for drinks and snacks, she kept to the program. A fresh string of musicians played as Mimzy came down to take to the dance floor. She picked a shadow, taking their phantom hands in hers to dance. He found himself amused at how Mimzy purposefully led her 'partner' near his table, making sure to spin out within inches of him. A pointed look, taunting even.

He was in no hurry to reclaim the flapper from any of his body doubles. Instead, Alastor politely tipped his glass and put in the order for another. A red hued gaze followed how she moved all over the dance floor, pulling his shadows to dance with her, fostering them to dance with each other. The power of suggestion from her was weak, but he indulged by letting them mill about and take up familiar dancing steps. As with her earlier patrons, one by one dancing pairs dwindled. Until it was her, one remaining shadow and him.

A graceful twirl reeled her into him, an effortless catch as the glass of whiskey switched from one hand to another.

“We meet again”

Her answer was a loud 'hmph', reddened cheeks and a turn of her head.

“Oh ho, someone still bitter over being turned out?”

She attempted to walk by him, to capture the shadowy form and resume the dance, but Alastor banished the distraction. Just them, the musicians and the bartender. Mimzy made it a point to turn to her musicians. Alastor returned to his drink, watching an animated conversation unfold.

“Why should we stay and play for one guy?” the pianist asked, hat tilted over yellow eyes, interlocked jaw only opening as he spoke.

“You'll stay if you want your paycheck!” Mimzy snapped in response, hands resting on her hips. She soon regretted her words though because she felt caught in a cross-fire of glares. Soon enough, the bassist spoke up, long fingers tapping against the body of their instrument “Mim, do you have the money to pay us? Thought you were banking on tonight's profits.”

“I...”she struggled for an excuse, a reason to keep them around. Years ago, she would have loved to have Alastor around. To bask in his attention. Couldn't run a jazz bar on a sole patron. Couldn't force her musicians to stay.

Instead, the blonde hung her head in defeat. “One more song, please. Then I'll pay you guys out and you can go home.” She needed time to gather her thoughts, figure out what Alastor wanted and turn in early herself since the Radio Demon taking up the entire bar would discourage more business her way.

Even the compromise got some grumbles. Mimzy felt their disappointment was a fair reaction. It was too late at night for them to find other gigs, they played over two hours and would get a paltry amount for their trouble. She would hardly be surprised if a couple of them quit or simply didn't show up tomorrow.

The final bars of “What'll I Do” echoed with Mimzy. Melodious and melancholy followed her upstairs to her office. A turn of the vault dial interrupted a somber humming rendition as the flapper knelt down. A frown followed by a sigh from painted lips. Gloved fingers raked through short blond hair as she looked at the stack of cash. She was thumbing through the bills on the way down, finding the bar as abandoned as she left it.

The musicians had packed up their gear, moved to the entryway, meaning the Radio Demon was free to move about. Darting glances to the being as dim glow from lit cigarettes and cigars soon flooded the hall with smoke. “He'd better not fuck with the piano, just got that bastard tunned” Brutus warned her as Mimzy handed over tonight's pay.

“What?”she turned on her heel to glance at the stage. Sure enough, Alastor was seated at the piano bench, his drink perched on a coaster with a conjured table end. “Oh no, it's fine. He knows what he's doing.” A scoff from her musician, but Mimzy let it go without remark. The bartender was the last to leave, lingering in fact.

“You gonna be okay here, Mim?”he asked, skin alternating between dark spots and patches of pale, one eye on her, the opposite roving to the man up on stage.

Honestly, she didn't know. Alastor would never hurt her, but for the life of her Mimzy couldn't figure out what he wanted. She lost business that was sorely needed just for him to drink and pretend to be an audience of one. If this was payback for getting him involved with the sharks, then Mimzy figured he wouldn't be around for much longer. These doubts wouldn't get her last employee out the door though.

“I've known him for forever, Chuck. I'm gonna be fine.” Hated having to repeat that word, but it seemed to be enough to ease the wary bartender out the door along with his payment. As the door closed, she was left alone with him. Not sure if that's what he wanted or if she too ought to remove herself from the equation, Mimzy took the safe route of heading to the stairs leading to her apartment.

“Turning in early? That's not like you at all!” the chiding rose alongside the melody coming from the piano keys.

Mimzy knew she could ignore his invitation, dim the lights, point out that the bar was all his and he just had to lock the front door on his way out. Instead, she had venom stored behind her teeth.

“I'll let you do what you like and go without the mockery, thank you” stated curtly. “That's cold, downright frigid in fact. Sure you're not the one who's changed over the years?”. He could have hit her with a hammer for all the bluntness of his words. Mimzy frowned, right arm crossed over left. Idle fingers plucked at the end of her glove.

“I came all this way to see you. Even let you finish your songs” he stated lightly, simply pleading his case. She outright scowled. Could tell it was a dig meant at her interrupting him last time Hands went to her hips after a haughty flip of her hair“You weren't 'singing' at the time. You were about to fight the King of Hell!”

“Ha!” the bark of laughter was followed with a tilt of his head. Shockingly her heart skipped a beat at his wicked smile, “We both know I could beat him seven ways to Sunday.”

“Sure about that? He's about as old as Heaven, if not the big G himself” In spite of herself, Mimzy left the banister to the stairs, coming closer. Magenta-hued eyes followed the fluid motion of his fingers along the keys of the piano. Took him seconds to come up with a melody, a siren song that drew her right to jagged rocks. A subtle nudge of her elbow to his side, wanting onto the piano bench too.

Mimzy knew she couldn't play, only wanted to be near him, but he was free to nudge her off or not budge at all. She was allowed. Her gaze flicked to every movement of his hands, melody washing over her and somehow reminding Mimzy she hadn't had one drink so far tonight. Gloved fingers deftly picked up an unattended whiskey glass, conjuring up a bottle and ice bucket to take it's place on the crowded side table. The first sip proved it was strong, but when she reached over to ice tong to mellow it out, a brush of his hands.

“Do you mind? Get your own glass if you're going to do that.” She gave him a scowl in response, but put down the tongs, banished the ice bucket as well, then took another sip out the glass. A chuckle mixed with static answered her soured expression. “Much too strong for you, I take it” Mimzy defiantly took another gulp, before setting the now empty glass down.

“How can you drink that?” she asked. Despite her complaining, Mimzy poured more of his favorite, this time holding the glass for him. A dip of his head to take a swallow in between playing. “I don't know why I'm bothered asking” Mimzy amended, “I've seen the things you eat. Strong liquor is hardly the worst thing.”

The flapper caught a wandering crimson gaze, a smug look as focus redoubled to some made-up symphony.

“What?” she asked, after easing the glass from her lips, a peek of a pink tongue-tip, gathering up a stray drop of whiskey.

“Nothing” the rise and fall of his voice a near song, taunting her. He had something to say, but was playing coy. Maddening, this man.

- -

Between the two of them, the whiskey bottle never stood a chance. Long after the glass was empty, he kept playing, having to pause at one point since Mimzy kept nodding off. A quick adjustment of his right arm, instinctively the blonde flapper curled to his side. God knows if he let her slip off the piano bench and to the floor to crack her head on, he'd never hear the end of it.

She hummed a few repeating bars, but for the most part let him play uninterrupted. At last, he eased the cover over piano keys. The movement stirred her, easing away from his side. A sway of her form, but even with her balance warring against gravity she picked up the empty bottle and their shared glass. It was amusing to watch her navigate on autopilot from stage to dance floor and to bar.

Methodical cleaning and disposal of the bottle before she moved to shut off the lights. Years ago, she would have had to been pried off of him. Hanging on his every word, big puppy-dog eyes staring intently and adoringly. Now, seemed Mimzy couldn't get rid of him fast enough and took efforts to thoroughly erase his presence.

His wasn't needed here. Habit and the haze of alcohol put him out of her mind, a glaring blind spot. He could leave and wouldn't be missed. Being ignored was opposite of his objective. Another bottle of whiskey was picked up, a new glass and, though he loathed it so, an ice bucket.

Next was the flapper herself. Alastor knew he was playing a dangerous game hoisting her while Mimzy was tipsy, but it was the easiest way to get her and everything else upstairs. Alcohol and necessities tucked under one arm, old friend draped over the shoulder and away they were!

“Um...excuse you?” the blonde began, yet no protests or demands to be put down, so he took it as a sign to climb the stairs. “Your apartment is still to the left, correct?” A hum answered, Alastor wasn't certain if she was trying to fall asleep or not throw up. Luckily, Mimzy was fine after she was eased off his shoulder to unlock her apartment. He was quick to get inside once the door was unlocked, didn't want to take chances lingering on the landing.

Ah. Still glaringly pink, frilled and bedecked in strands or droplets of pearls where she could get away with it. Classic. As he looked around and set up the ice bucket on a coffee table, Mimzy was the one out in the hallway. He caught her confused expression.

Not tight annoyed grimace or raised eyebrows at the audacity of him making himself at home; her bemusement was apparent. Knowing it could go a number of ways, Alastor decided to let Mimzy puzzle it out for herself and started the first pour. A couple of ice cubes dropped into the whiskey summoned her over.

She stood in front of him, attempting to ease the glass out of his hand to take her own drink, but a tug of that same gloved hand invited her into his lap. For someone who lauded the Radio Demon as heartless a son of a bitch, Mimzy was quickly to curl towards him. Things felt relatively normal again, save that her shoulders were tensed and any second now Alastor was aware she could twist a single word of his around to justify pushing off. So, he stayed surprisingly quiet save for the ambient white noise.

“I thought you hated me” was muttered at the buttons of his suit jacket.

“I never said that” A shrug of bare shoulders. Not a mark either of teeth or freckle, smooth and soft, a lengthy strand of pearl knotted at her throat. Same throat moved as she gulped down half of the whiskey. He watched her play with one of the ice cubes, letting it roll over her tongue.

Magenta eyes stared boldly back, “You never came to visit me” her accusation hardly held any weight. “You didn't come to see me either.” a light twining of blonde curled ends at his hand. Purple-painted lips opened to protest, but a finger hushed the budding words.

“You could have seen me at the Hotel at any time. You knew from the commercial and from Vox, where I was. Didn't come to see me until a problem came up.”

She tipped her head to scowl at him, opened the mouth he 'shushed' to take a nibble at the finger. Finding the taste of keratin not to her liking if that wrinkled, offended look was anything to go from; Mimzy reached over, wrestled the glass from him to take another swallow of watered-down whiskey.

“Rosie didn't come to visit you either” she bit back.

“You didn't 'visit'” this was counter to what he wanted, but refused to be slandered to his face, more so to have Rosie dragged into their disagreement. The grand dame had been nothing but kind to him during his visit to Cannibal Town.

“You went out of your way to see her though!”

“For Hotel business, to gather forces against Heaven...oh, but you wouldn't know. You weren't there to help fight. That would be asking too much of you.”

A rattle of the remaining ice as Mimzy angrily slammed the glass down, “You banned me!” an accusatory finger to his chest. One he nudged away and was tempted to tip her off his lap and to the floor, at least here there was a rug to cushion the fall.

“Only after it became clear you weren't there for Redemption nor to see me. You got what you wanted and were going to leave anyway as soon as those Sharks were gone.”

“Why does it matter if I wanted to see you? I've wanted to see you for years!” the whiskey glass forgotten, rolled to the sofa cushion as Mimzy's hands got involved in the conversation. Along with pointing, the fingers curled, pressing into his suit jacket. He could tell the flapper was on the verge of shaking him, for all the good it'd do her.

A sneer, knowing she was full of it.

“It doesn't matter at all. You only come to me when you want something. Everyone knows it, so stop lying to me.”

She crumbled at that look. A press of her lips, tears welling up in her eyes only to attempt to bat those away with the back of her hand. Mimzy left his lap without facing resistance. Her world view was blurred by tears and blurry from the alcohol. She blindly searched for and found the glass. Setting it upright on the table and leave it for him. All she wanted was to retreat to the bedroom.

“You don't have to go” A shift in tone. Where it anyone else, Mimzy would have fooled herself into believing regret was present in those words. She knew better. Alastor never felt sorry for anything. Any 'mistakes' he made were meant to happen or he simply rolled the misfortune into somehow turning it in his favor anyway. Mimzy wished she could be that lucky. Instead, everything between them had wounded her deeply, but refused to cry in front of him.

“I do. I'm fed up with your bullshit”

“Ask me to go then.”

“You know the way out!” Mimzy snapped back, right arm extended and pointer finger to the door. “You even have the backup key to the place, if you hadn't lost that over the years. Just...” her hands raised, only to fall to her sides again in defeat. “Do whatever you want”

Making it clear she wanted to wash her hands of him tonight, Mimzy flung open her bedroom door, ducked to the other side, slamming it shut. Only when she was safely shut out of sight did her shoulders shiver, a sob slipped past her lips. A testing grip on the door handle, not wanting to be alone, but knowing crying in front of him would only open herself to mockery.

He'd figure it out eventually. He'd drink, leave on his own and she could go back to keeping him to the back of her mind.

Well, conversation hit a dead end. Not how he imagined the evening unfolding. Mimzy couldn't be depended on for much, save for her blind devotion to him. The big fluttering eye lashes and captivated glances. Prior to his departure, she'd forgive any slight from him, any cross words and welcome him back at any given hour. All but shut down the jazz bar for him and unwind herself from any potential lover.

Not anymore. She was holding a grudge and was quick to be rid of him. All the same, he wasn't in any rush to leave. Mimzy had given him permission to 'do whatever'. At present, he only wanted to chuck out the ice cubes and pour more whiskey, a smaller measure than when it been the two of them.

He took a short wander over to a table to remove a ivory-pink cloth off of a radio. Dusty, cobwebs draped over the knobs and the dial face could use a cleaning. It was probably a few months to a year short of being dumped. Thus, he summoned a kit to spruce it up. Wood polish for the body. A light cloth to shine up the dial and dust away spider leavings. Mimzy might have neglected the device, but it was a grand old piece.

Alastor had remembered how proud she had been of the purchase. Back when his show was starting out. She had taken great pride in it, even if the red of the wood grain and the yellow glow of the dial clashed horridly with the pink-black elements of her home. Never missed a broadcast.

Couldn't begin to say when he'd go back to broadcasting. The whole thing with Vox hadn't been planned, but it had been quite a time. Given his current situation, Alastor wouldn't go making promises. Least of all to Mimzy or himself. Time tables tended to get tossed to the four winds. All the same, he wondered if his first faithful listener would bother tuning back in.

His gaze wandered to the one closed door and then the hall which would lead to another room. Curiosity got the better of him. The dark hallway held a door, a small twist and push. She kept it the same. Had to be careful, this sort of attention to detail might trick him into being sentimental.

Spanish moss hanging from antlers jutting from the walls. A neat stack of books, the paper markers in the exact place he had left them. In contrast to her living room, pink and white had ceded space to black, shades of red and more earth tones. Instead of a bed, a comfortable arm chair near table and books. One point, Mimzy had offered a bed, only for it to be denied. He rarely slept and a bed would make it feel like he'd have to come by more often.

Alastor found the change of scenery did little to improve the taste of the whiskey. The atmosphere was more to his liking, but the lack of company he wasn't pleased with. If he wanted to drink alone, he could have simply brought whiskey to his Hotel room or the Radio Tower. Alternatively if he wanted company, Husk could have made for a grouchy companion, but one that could be compelled to stay. Rosie, was also an option; she loved her wine and was a delight, laugh a minute that one and was free with kisses the more a bottle dwindled.

He had his pick. Still choose the closed door over all other options presented.

Mimzy was roused from sleep by the rhythmic tapping on her bedroom door. A groan answered 'Shave and a Haircut', not exactly a warm invitation. Besides, she'd have to get out of bed to unlock. Right when she was comfortable too! Tussled short hair ruffled as she sighed and flopped onto her back.

I could just leave him there. He's a grown man, he can take a hint without hurt feelings.

She's forced to rethink her plan of action though because the knocking ceases only to take up again, Same pattern. Blame the booze and exhaustion, but took a third round of tapping before she eases up in bed. A grouchy look to the door, feline ears tucking back into her hair, vanishing as easily as the lengthy tail curled beside Mimzy.

“Hold on! Let me get decent, first!”

A laugh muffled from the door, “Don't think I can wait that long.”

“Hey!” a pointer finger aimed at the door, “You know what I mean...stop playing dumb...” grumbled under her breath as Mimzy picked up a robe. As she walked, the flapper re-applied layers upon layers of illusions, attempting to pull herself into order while shrugging on her pale pink satin robe. Once it was knotted closed, she approached the door. A quick self-check in the mirror showed she had expertly hidden everything. She'd look exactly the same as an hour prior.

At last, she unlocked and opened the door to him. Instantly forgetting the sour words between them, Mimzy gave him her softest doe eyes and leaned to the right of the door frame. Arms in sleeves ending in feathers crossed at her chest.

“Well?” she prompted.

The lights in her living room had been dimmed. Pink furniture and the pearl accents being replaced and rearranged right before her eyes. Seeing his handiwork at play even he had been in her dwelling less than two hours didn't phase her in the slightest. He had always been like this. His influence, desired colors, sentient shadows, everything about Alastor seemed to bleed out into whatever space he took up. Didn't help that Mimzy let him have creative control. Any and everything could be fixed with her own brand of magic upon him leaving.

“That's it? You wanted to show me how you're redecorating my home?” gloved hands extended, confused as to what all he wanted at this hour. By now he ought to be sloshed and either asleep in the chair in his room or somehow back at the Hotel or even the Tower. Any place but in front of her, showing off like this.

“No” his speech wasn't slurred, but had always been a rather put-together drunk. Whereas Mimzy knew she needed a glass of water, at least three aspirins and a dark room before she'd feel half as stable. “All of this is merely incidental”. Indeed. The furniture rearranging and decorating stopped mid process, causing Mimzy to flinch because now it was a mix of her décor, bits of antler and bones on the wall and splashes of red and creeping bits of greenery. She'd have to ignore it though, wanted to get this over with and go back to bed.

“What is it then?” no use in hiding her exasperation. He had intruded on her evening, from costing her customers, performers, wounded her and now wasn't going to let her sleep.

His hands briefly pressed together, an odd but old habit of his. Deep breath, before the Radio Demon spoke.

“Some...unkind things were said between us.” A snort from Mimzy. Yeah, no shit. She had cried about it and that had tired herself out enough to doze a little before he rudely woke her.

“I don't feel like staying up and drinking. Or talking” she wanted to be up front with him. “I just want to go back to bed and sleep, so...” a twirl of a left index finger, “you mind wrapping this up.”

His smile didn't moved. It never did, but his posture straightened in a way that Mimzy could tell he was bristling, holding back on saying something biting no doubt. A part of her hissed that she ought to be grateful he was at least attempting to broach the subject. Typically when they argued, he'd let her stew and they'd ignore cross words or incidents when they met up again.

“May I come in, first?”

That got an arched eyebrow in response. “Why? You can say what you want right out here.” Unless what he had to say would make her close the door again. It was a possibility, she was short on patience tonight.

“Please” not a question nor a request, they both knew she'd cave. Sure enough, Mimzy stepped back from the doorway turned to make sure her room looked about as presentable as she did. The momentary turn evolved into a full stop as she felt a chill tickle up her spine, fingers ending in keratin claws touched the nape of her neck.

“What's this?” a sharp point pressing lightly at a scar she had forgotten to hide.

Having seen, and inflicted, his fair share of scars, Alastor was no stranger to the shape of scars. How they healed over time, discolored the skin, tore flesh sometimes down to muscle and right to the bone. As far from a physician as it comes, he could however tell something was odd about how it was healing. Namely, how the jagged ribbon of raised skin vanished perfectly underneath her hair. An injury to the back of her head, one that required to be sewn up, would have had also made the back of short blonde hair choppy if only to get access to seal it closed.

An illusion. Or rather a network of them. He wasn't angry at Mimzy hiding a scar from him. Such a vain little creature, had been since they met. She'd attempt to cover black eyes from rough men with various powders and creams that had been the rage back then. She'd wear a garter to disguise a bruise at her thigh. Or a comically large broach or pendant necklace to mask various marks at her throat. No, what insulted him was her neglecting to mention.

“It's not fresh...” he remarked, eased up on touching it though since she'd most likely complain if he got blood on her dressing gown.

“...correct” a quiet voice answered him. “...about six weeks ago. Bottle to the back of the head. Chuck is really good with a needle and thread, World War II medic and all. See how even the stitches are.”

“Who?”

“Chuck? He's the bartender...”

“No, I meant who hit you.”

A laugh, “One of the Sharks.”

Incapable of erasing the smile, his gaze does narrows in place of an outward change of expression. His palm briefly covers the scar, having been caught Mimzy dropped that layer of her illusion. It was such a jagged wound, but six weeks sounded like the correct time frame given how it was healing. Stitches were going to have to come out soon.

“They sent out more flunkies over here...couple days after the Extermination. You went missing again, so...guess they thought it'd be another seven years. Or...dunno, they thought it was okay to scare me.”

“And it never crossed your mind to tell...”

She turned away from him so abruptly, drawing the closed robe even tighter, taking measured steps away from him.

“To tell you?” she filled in. “When would I have had time...oh and the whole, 'don't come back to the Hotel unless you want to change', that put a damper on any desire to tattle.”

“You brought gangsters with Molotov cocktails, a battering ram and guns to the Hotel, Mimzy, what was I supposed to say to you?”

She took a seat at the end of her bed. Much like the living room, her bedroom was draped in pink, lace and pearls, even the table lamps gave off a rosy hue. Among all the frill and femininity, she looked lost. Smaller and delicate. Though, it could also be yet another illusion of hers. Hard to tell. The woman dealt in lies, deception and wondered why people called her trouble.

“I don't know” her voice quiet, on the verge of a quiver, but she was so quick to compose herself around him. He blinked and the wall was back up.

“Six weeks. Anything else happened?”

“Yeah”

“Such as?”

Her gaze flicked up to him, “It's better if I show you.”

As she promised him, the scar at the back of her head was only the beginning. She kept the robe on, but let illusion after illusion vanish. Listed each bruise and incident of intimidation tied to it.

The oldest mark was from the bottle. The newest was three days, wrapped and concealed under her robe. Her body was a map of every instance, but more than the beatings, the threats had driven off her customers and performers.

“Those guys you saw tonight are really all I've got left...honestly don't know why they stay” a press of her lips, “Maggie, the girl I used to sing duets with, doesn't even come around anymore cause one of the Sharks roughed her up pretty bad...scared her good.”

Mimzy shuddered as a touch went along her shoulder, “There's one more...” he was right, she was keeping the last away from him. Her fingers undid the knot, satin garment slipped over her shoulders, letting it drape at her middle.

Angry, deep gouged claw marks had been pressed into her left shoulder. Fresh. A few days old at most.

#Fan Fic #Writing

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ethereal-engineer · 2 months

Text

A Story To Tell

"I needed to tell you my story, but I was scared of how you'd react to the raw truth, so I twisted it with metaphor, and tied it into narrative, concealing the thread of my life within, until you were ready and able to know."

"Well, look how far we've come. We've gone farther than either of us ever believed possible. I think I'm ready. So, won't you tell me a story?"

"Sure, just remember that the specifics may shift from one retelling to the next, and the story as a whole's gotten a little longer since I told it last. It's been an eventful few years, y'know."

"Quit stalling and tell the damn story already!"

"Alright, alright! Our story begins with a young boy named Joseph. He was a taller fellow, even in youth, with curly copper hair and eyes green as grass. However, if you listened well, you might hear the hiss of a piston coming from where one would expect a muscle, or the low rumble of a boiler emanating from his chest, for he was made not from flesh and blood, but of metal and steam. Of course, at a glance, he was just like any boy of his age, albeit a little quiet, which his parents treated as a blessing more often than not.

Joseph went through his primary schooling, learning his numbers well and his words well enough, but there was one thing he could never quite get his grip on. People shied away from him, and muttered behind his back. Whispered names crossed the yard, those of 'unnatural', 'inhuman', 'freak' and many more I'd not repeat to my worst enemy."

"Not even to Scarlotte?"

"Okay, maybe to her, although she hits hard if you piss her off, so maybe not. Either way, this unstopping barrage caused Joseph to begin building a kind of mental wall, a way to keep himself safe against those who would tease him. And so he withdrew, and any time something breached his defenses, he built the wall tougher and taller. As he went into secondary, the gap between him and his classmates only grew, as although most of his class had matured past name-calling and petty insults, new differences arose. As his classmates' hearts fluttered and Jumped, the boiler in his chest hummed unceasingly on. As their faces blushed, his stayed cold as steel. Joseph could not love romantically, and though he didn't mind not having to worry about the matters of love, once again, he was painted as different and inferior, for something he had no control over. On one fateful day, after Joseph grabbed his lunch and headed to a table in the corner to eat in peace, he saw someone approaching. He prepared himself for the usual questions of relationship advice, either newly started or abruptly ended, as although Joseph had little experience in the affairs of the heart, he was levelheaded and listened well, and could help one sort through their feelings if needed. Today, however, they simply sat and ate. They exchanged introductions, but even without words, Joseph knew that she too, was more than a normal person. She was rough about the edges, bold and brash. She was everything he wasn't. She was moulded of clay and wood, and her name was Sophia."

"Ooh, is that me?"

"Last I checked your name wasn't Sophia."

"And yours wasn't Joseph."

"And unlike our protagonists, we are both made of flesh and blood."

"You know what I meant! It's your meta-something-or-other!"

"Okay, let's get back to the story. Joseph and Sophia continued to sit together at lunches, and slowly, together, they pulled down the walls they had erected to keep themselves safe, finally able to show their colours without fear of backlash, and even if they did, they would face it together. Over the years, they became closer, and soon enough there were no two friends closer than the golem and the automaton. Occasionally, someone might ask if they were 'more than friends', to which they would reply "Friends is enough for us, thank you very much" and walk off."

"Well this is all well and good, but what happens next?"

"What happens next is they finish their schooling, neither passing with flying colours, but both doing well enough to get where they needed to go. I'd go further into detail, but I barely remember myself, and even if I did, trying to show all of that, we'd miss the sunset with me still talking. And so, as the first chapter of their lives came to an end, they stayed in touch. They met together often, laughing and generally having fun spending time with each other. And one day, a letter arrived in Joseph's mailbox. It was an invitation to a small, two day hike, from Sophia. And so he prepared, and they met at the bottom of a hill a few days later. It was warm, but not hot, as summer gave way to autumn. So they walked, talking about life since they'd last met up, which was roughly two weeks prior, about jobs, and anything inbetween. Sophia had gotten a position in the local news, as an editor, and Joseph was selling his art in the market square. And as they reached the top of the hill, they unpacked tents and started a search for suitable firewood. Once they'd amassed a sizeable pile, they sat on the ground, facing the setting sun, and Joseph told a story."

"Well, that was wonderful. Wanna watch the sunset a while longer before we start that fire?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice."

#i wrote the first iteration of this as part of english class #and liked it too much to not rewrite it in full #short story #writing

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poetryisdumbandilikeit · 10 months

Text

A love letter to my body, my soul, and my life.

My lungs are filled with thorns and mildew. My body is strung together with vines. Do not be gentle with my body. It is fragile, but it is not weak. I am held together by the creeping whispers of my love. I hurt whenever I breathe from the sharp hate that lingers in my breath. A mass of gentleness rests there too. I am fragile, and I am strong. An oxymoron some would call me. Wrong. I am strong because I have flaws. I am weak because I love so deeply.

My blood is a river winding forever but not afraid to return home, my bones are trees growing until they can no more. When they wither I will call their husks beautiful. While the fools may call them ugly. The dead trees bring life to new creatures, the soul of the forests rests on them, and like them, I am not a gnarled or twisted thing. I am but a beautiful memory of the life I gave, and they will outlive me to tell my story. One you cannot understand, fool you are.

Mushrooms grow under my feet and on my palms, the map of my adventure, and the life I did not tell you about. You may guess, but you may not know why. Do not call me home.

My lungs are filled with thorns and moss, from there my hate and love are breathed into the world. Strung up tight and painful. I am sewn together by vines, and built on growing trees. I am fragile, you may not call me weak. I still stand. I will get up, not for myself or for the life I should live, but for the life you robbed me of. Fear is no one's friend, he cuts and he tears, he burns things that never were allowed to grow old, never got to wither. Not even their remains to raise the next who wander here. How dare you use his name. How dare you pull him about. Can you not see that he is not your friend? He slashes at new growing branches and snarls at smiles.

Fear will see your joy as a bearing of teeth. He will tell you that you cannot love, and that you are weak. You are fragile, precious, beautiful, and important. You are a forest no one could ever have imagined. Do not let them burn you down. Fish swim in the river that crests around your heart. Beauty grows in the moss in your lungs, words of love they don't want to hear, ideas bold and brash like thrashing thorns, shredding the “perfection” they think they’ve won. The vines that string you together carry a million secrets, and a million hearts all breathing in your forest. The wood of your bones will hold together every piece of your life, and the lives of those you love.

Do not forsake the thorns in your lungs, or the moss in your throat, do not let them make you bereaved over the fact you are strung together by vines, or that you are built of trees not yet grown, they are not ready to die. Your blood is a winding river, it ebbs and flows through your soul, and it is there because you are built of love. You are born in community, raised in hearth, and you will die and be left with a host of your community's souls.

That is beauty, do not let them steal your love, or your life.

#poetry #poem #love letters #i am beautiful #you are beautiful #transgender #this is written for trans people #by a trans person #confidence #trans pride #trans awareness #trans positivity #trans genocide #i know its not great #or obvious its about transness #but its important #to me at least

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warriorsparked · 1 year

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BEEP BEEP: You write an apologetic Megatron. He wants a better world, but he does not regret the paths he's taken. To him everything had its purpose, even the war. He might sometimes reflect that perhaps both sides could have stopped sooner but he never would have let it drop without being met on equal footing. He's brash, bold, and incredibly charming! You write him in a way that he feels like he is built. A bulwark of restrained power with the heaviness of his titles and actions to back his words.

beep beep how’s my portrayal ?

// ijsdf thank you so much! <3 I am so happy people can see the strength that he still has, the ferocity that still sits inside him, even though he wants to better himself and fix the wrongs he's done. He's such a complex character with so many feelings, but he will always remind those that he was not the only one that did wrong in their war.

Guilt riddled, but fierce enough to remind himself of where he's come from. He will always hold onto those roots.

I'm so happy people can see these things through my writing <333 Thank you!

#ooc asks #safe keeping

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couldntbedamned · 1 year

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Feels So Right, Can’t Be Wrong - Yellow Tulip

Summary:

The setting: Sanctum General Hospital in Sanctum Heights, New Amsterdam

Starring: Sharon Carter - former Central Security Bureau operative, Selecting Spouse in a horrifically failed Bureau of Civic Spousal Selections marriage, patient AND Anthony Edward "Tony" Stark - owner and CEO of Stark Industries, Futurist determined to rebuild a world his father built weapons to destroy, love interest

With Appearances by: Nurse Wong, Orderly Rintrah, and Billy the Admin

And Featuring Doctor Stephen Strange as "the Surgeon"

Or, "Five Dates Tony and Sharon Had in Her Hospital Room and One They Had After She Was Discharged"

AO3 Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Marriage of Convenience, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Getting to Know Each Other, Dating, Past Domestic Violence, 5 Times, Annoyed Stephen Strange, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Sharon Carter Deserves the World

Author’s Note: So this kind of just popped up as I was kicking around thoughts of just how Tony and Sharon met and eventually fell in love as mentioned in my fic Goodbye Grey Sky, Hello Blue, so this takes place well before the events of and can be read independently of that story.

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Yellow Tulip

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After confirming that Sharon wasn’t bound to any dietary restrictions, and after being told by a stern Nurse Wong that alcohol was strictly forbidden, Tony had dinner catered.

He’d managed to acquire another three overbed tables, looped them all together, and threw a simple tablecloth over them. He’d set up a little no-flame candle. Then, after he insisted she close her eyes, she heard him fiddling with something and when he said it was all ready, she saw he’d added a small crystal vase with a single yellow tulip.

Tony helped her into one of the chairs in the private room and rather than pushing her chair in, he rolled the table closer to her before taking his own seat opposite her.

“I’m impressed,” she admitted with a smile. She couldn’t remember having a date be so considerate or thorough… certainly not… no, she wouldn’t think about that man.

Tony grinned and in that moment, he looked as giddy as a schoolboy. It was endearing and had her wondering just how much of his brash, quippy nature was actually a public persona he wore.

“It took like, maybe twelve minutes.”

She snorted, uncaring of how unladylike the gesture was.

“Anywho, I figured I’d start with Italian food, in honor of my dearly departed… nanny.”

That startled a laugh out of her. “I’m so sorry,” she said hastily, when he lifted a brow. “I really thought you were going to say mother.”

Tony didn’t look offended, just amused. “No, I get it. You are definitely not the first. Mom was Italian but Martina raised me, along with our butler, Jarvis.”

“Fair enough,” Sharon said. “So, what are we having?”

Tony lifted one of the shiny domed lids.

There was hot, fresh bread already sliced and olive oil with an herb mix for dipping.

“How’s civilian life, former soldier-spouse aside?” Tony asked.

“That is a bold opening question!” she exclaimed.

“Fortune favors the bold,” Tony said easily.

“Yes, I suppose it does.” She considered her answer. “Civilian life is… definitely taking some getting used to. Six months in and I’m still trying to learn how to sleep past six am.” She shrugged and dipped another piece of bread in the oil. “Mostly though I’m just so bored; I have far more free time than I’ve had in seven years.”

“Just how structured was life as Mata Hari?” He asked.

“It varied. The CSB had us all in what was essentially boot camp for a year, then trainee work for a year before they sent us on assignments.” She ate another piece of the delicious bread. “That’s really all I’m at liberty to disclose.”

“Fair enough,” he said with a smile, echoing her earlier words.

A small Cardini salad followed with seasoned garlicky croutons that nearly melted in her mouth.

“What brought you to New Amsterdam?” Sharon asked.

“Our mutual friend the Surgeon bought the whole Stark Kitchen Living Collection and I’ve been overseeing the installation.”

The doctor had good taste; she’d considered the collection for her house, though the other occupant had scoffed at such luxury. She pushed thoughts of him away. “Hot Rod Red?” She asked playfully.

“Superior Sapphire, actually,” Tony answered. “The Surgeon prefers a cooler color palette.”

“How is the installation going?”

“Good! I got the first half of the wiring finished this morning and we’ll start installing the refrigeration cabinet and ovens Thursday afternoon. It should be finished by Friday.”

“And after it’s finished?”

He smiled, genuine and charming. “I’ll still have two dates, one Friday night and the last on Saturday night,” he said.

“Let’s hope they’ll be good ones,” she said with a little toast of the sparkling Italian grape juice he’d brought.

The main course wasn’t spaghetti or rigatoni as she’d been expecting, but Chicken Scaloppini with a Marsala cream reduction on top of mashed potatoes with a side of roasted broccolini.

Stark, I could kiss you, she thought as she savored her first taste of the potatoes that had been mashed with hefty amounts of garlic and heavy cream.

“It’s delicious, isn’t it?” he asked, sounding perfectly smug.

She nearly moaned upon tasting the Marsala cream sauce. “Yes, dammit.”

He gave a little fake gasp. “Such language from the lady!”

She rolled her eyes and finished chewing the cooked-to-perfection chicken. “I was a spy, Stark. You have no idea what language is.”

“Want to teach me?”

She looked up sharply at him. His eyes were teasing and he had that easy grin on his face, the grin that had charmed millions.

“That’s more of a second date kind of activity,” she said.

“I’m looking forward to it!”

They traded a few stories, nothing heavy or deep-diving into either of their pasts. It wasn’t the time for that, they knew.

Dessert turned out to be small dishes of panna cotta topped with a peach and blueberry rum compote.

She eyed him incredulously. “I would have been happy with a burger, fries, and milkshake but this is incredible!” She gushed.

He smiled and there was a warmth in his eyes that had her feeling tingly and vulnerable all at once. “I told you, I want to do this right.”

She was trained to discern the truth and there was nothing facetious about what he’d said.

“Well then, dessert and a show? It’s Tuesday evening, so Are You Scared of the Dark? will be playing on Station N1K.”

He made a show of consideration. “That’s the spooky story one, right, where they sit around a campfire?” At her nod, he continued. “I may need you to hold my hand if it gets really scary.”

“As long as it doesn't come between me and the panna cotta, I can definitely do that.”

Perfectly happy with the guise of needing support for the spooky stories being, Sharon let Tony hold her hand until the show ended and he quietly cleared the room and set the vase with the yellow tulip on her nightstand. He pressed a kiss to her hand.

“I had a great time,” he said.

She smiled, happy but tired. “Me too. Thank you for the flower.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he left she let her head fall back onto her pillow. She had physical therapy and rehabilitation in the morning, but she was actually looking forward to it. She wanted to be healed and able to go on a proper date.

She looked up at the knock on her door. Nurse Wong.

“He was a gentleman,” she said before the man could ask. “I had a lovely time.”

Wong nodded. “I’m glad.”

He dispensed her medication for the night and she fell asleep dreaming of a night spent around a campfire, holding Tony’s hand.

____

Author’s Notes (again): Yellow Tulip - sunshine in your smile

#tony stark x sharon carter #sharon carter x tony stark #iron 13 #1950s modern fusion au #couldntbedamned fic #this is so self-indulgent #tony stark #sharon carter

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 years

Text

Evanstan with frat-bro-like and all Boston Chris Evans who's a stunt performer plus shy and quiet actor Sebastian. Actor Sebastain Stan known for being a lost puppy.

They meet because Seb is doing a stunt scene in an action film for the first time, Chris is on the stunt team, doubling Seb's character's rival. And poor baby has never even thrown a punch before, unlike Chris, and he's half in awe of Chris. Cheery and so fucking skilled at this shit. Not at all clumsy. He's in awe of him and half terrified he'll hurt himself.

Chris is bold and brash, rowdy when he gets to doing his job, jumping, flipping, rigging, fighting- all of it. It makes him a big kid on an adrenaline rush. He takes a liking to this kid who's actually only a year younger than him it turns out. Damn. Well, he's built like a greyhound, long and lean and beautiful. Chris cant help but flirt, even though he knows he shouldn't. He should be professional, they've got to work together on this new movie for Months. Lots of action scenes. Lots of action scenes that Sebastian, quiet and clumsy when he's himself although very eager to learn and only a little less quiet as his character- who's written that way, its not that he can't act, he sure fucking can, the kids a chameleon. Which naturally means that Chris has to stay after hours, helping him get used to the moves, improving upon his colt-ish like charming lack of grace until he swims through the movements gorgeously. Gaining confidence.

They have to be around each other so often, Chris doubling for Seb's character's rival, fighting and close and... Chris really shouldn't flirt. Yet, he can't help himself. He flirts and by the end of the day, worked up, sweaty and high on affection, his Boston accent only come out even more than his already sweetened drawl-

"Oop, I got'cha darlin'!" when Seb trips, nearly falling.

"Don't worry 'bout it- lemme," when the kid drops his fake knife, trying a flip mid-fight scene and dropping it. Chris can see he's stressed about not being perfect. He wishes he wasn't.

"Good, baby, yeah! That was so good! Lookit you go!" when he nails it on the day of filming. The smile on the kid's face is worth a thousand more than the knowing glare of their stunt coordinator. (There's definitely also some back slapping/rubbing with an "atta boy!" later. It makes the kid blush. Chris thinks about that blush all week.)

On the last day of filming one of Sebastian's co-stars shoves Sebastian so he lands, hands first, on Chris' massive, rock hard chest. Seb nearly melts on the spot. So embarrassed. Chris just rubs his arms and shoulder, grinning, telling him, "it's okay, I got'cha, baby." And Seb melts more. If possible.

They start dating soon after.

And most of their relationship is Sebastian running after Chris, on the edge of a heart attack while rolling his eyes and tugging at his boyfriend's stupidly muscular biceps asking, "Chris, babe- ugh. Why? Why are you the way that you are? You're gonna hurt yourself! Be careful! You're giving me grey hairs, isweartogod-" "CHRISTOPHER! BE CAREFUL!"

#fandomfluffandfuck #sebastian stan #chris evans #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction #au #alternative universe #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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todoscript · 4 years

Text

Work of Art

pairing: bakugou katsuki x fem!reader genre: smut. word count: 3.6k+ warnings: 18+. shibari. bondage. submissive bakugou. dominant reader. begging. praising. bakugou being a little bit of a brat?

anonymous requested: okay but what abt.. submissive bakugo👉👈 him being all bratty and shuts up when you deny him—

author’s note: ohhh boyyyy... submissive bakugou really got me writing more than 3k’s worth of filth haha, but i hope you enjoy! shoutout to my gals, rosie ( @shoutogepi ) & val ( @shoutodoki ) for indulging with me during our talks about sub bnha boys

“Hmm, I don’t see why you’re so against this,” your voice sounds out, and Bakugou immediately perceives the saccharine dripping upon every word, a lilt of a smile dancing on your colored lips, painted in a vivid rosy red pigment that only enhances your seduction. Despite how sweet you sound, he knows that underneath that layer of sugar lies a venom waiting to intoxicate him—ensnare his reasoning and leave him utterly vulnerable to your mischief. As in this moment, you embody every characteristic akin to a vixen, enveloped in the lacy fabric of your black lingerie.

Bakugou sits before you bound to a chair with an intricate network of cordage twined across his naked skin. The patterns and shapes knotted together contrast stunningly against his expanse of hard muscle—reminiscent of paint on canvas. And you tonight are the artist.

“You look so pretty, like a beautiful piece of art…” you say languidly. Each syllable uttered is drawn out in alluring breaths that somehow makes him feel hazy. He grits his teeth at how much that extra flair in your voice affects him, eyebrows narrowing tightly as he fidgets in his seat. His arms and wrists ache from just a simple wriggle, your meticulous work granting him no chance to get free.

“Ah-ah, you’re not gonna get out of this one,” you tease. Right as he opens his mouth for a snappy retort, the words are swooped from under him when your hands begin to trace his naked skin—starting from his thigh, up to his abs, and then landing to his chest, where you make a point to taunt him by dancing your fingertips there before bending down to meet his eyes. Your ruby red lips curve impishly at what you reduced him to. “You can try as much as you like, but I’ve tied the ropes this way so you can’t get free~ Don’t want you to spoil the fun after all,” you sing. Fully aware of your boyfriend’s strength built upon many years of arduous hero training alongside that powerful quirk of his, you made sure Pro Hero Ground Zero would not turn the tables on you in his haste for pleasure tonight.

Thus, his usual brash exterior dwindles in the face of your ministrations when you play with the rope a bit more. When he notices your eyes descend to his angry red cock that stands firm amid the knotwork surrounding it, his impatience builds. Bakugou wets his lips, finally ushering some words out from his dry throat.

“Fuck… Stop stalling already…” he tells you, voice borderline on a plea, but his remaining pride pushes the inflection back in hopes it resembles even a lick of his regular gruff tone. Your hums in reply don’t entail much, other than the fact you’re still prolonging his needs.

“Stalling? Who said I was stalling?” You feign ignorance before deciding to take a seat on him, straddling his thighs. “I just want to admire my work of art a bit more… I did a pretty good job—” your hand suddenly comes to his cock, fingers coaxing its hardness that makes his breath hitch, “don’t you think?”

For once, Bakugou’s scrounging for words at the sudden contact. He’s not used to being so speechless when it comes to passion in the bedroom with you. If anything—moaning and yelling aside—he regards himself the more vocal one between the two of you, his dirty talk and crude language a routine he always enacted to get you hot, bothered, and oh so ready for him. However, the shibari ropes braided across his body press a button that spurs him to be so… submissive.

God, him and “submissive” do not belong in the same sentence.

He thinks this, and yet the aesthetic arrangement on his skin emphasizes his sensuality and vulnerability, and it somehow makes arousal wholly envelop his cock.

“Well?” You bring him back to the situation at hand by thumbing over the slit of his length, slick with his pre-cum. The touch causes a groan to slip past his lips. “I asked you a question, Katsuki.” You stroke his length up and down for every word, stopping right at the end and leaving his cock weeping for more of your touch, strained by the rope.

“Ah, f-fuck—” He internally curses himself for the stutter. Glancing at you, he heeds the smirk that still hangs proudly on your red lips.

Boy, does he itch to wipe it off your face with bruising kisses and have wanton moans singing from them when he pounds you into the bed. To his dismay, however, that itch remains unreachable thanks to your painstakingly elaborate composition. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, this shibari shit you performed on him was executed with great attention to detail for him to be left so aroused and unable to break free in this damn chair. But would he ever say this to you out loud? Hell no. So he settles for defiance instead.

Bakugou looks you straight in the eye with a smug expression plastered on his face. “Hah, is this supposed to impress me? Seems like a bunch of amateur work to me, babe,” he scoffs boldly, earning a raised brow from you at his attitude despite the position he’s in. Perhaps he needs a reminder that no matter how much he squirms, he isn’t getting a sliver of authority tonight.

“Is that so?” You jab, finger looping around the cordage tied across his collarbones to pull him forward in his chair. His face is so close to yours; he can feel your breath on his lips and smell the enticing fragrance of your perfume. It’s an off-beat mix of rose and jasmine that gets his blood pumping from just a whiff. “I don’t think you truly understand the position you’re in right now, Suki,” you muse sensually, lips tugging back into a smirk that has him second-guessing his actions, “I just need to remind you then.”

At that, your hand immediately falls to his cock, stout and weepy with pre-cum, capturing Bakugou’s attention. He groans wantonly while you stroke it. Dropping to your knees, you watch as your ministrations evoke bliss into his cock from below. You can tell without even glancing at him that he’s biting his tongue to suppress his obscene noises. However, the increasing volume in his voice betrays him.

“Agh, fucking goddd—” he drawls beneath his breath when you decide to pick up the pace with your hand, applying the right amount of pressure that had his walls slowly cracking in front of you. The strain on his body from the ropes heightens his lust. Bakugou tugs on the restraints in the fit of pleasure building inside him.

“Hm well look at that. You were so bold before, but now look at you—” Your other hand goes to fondle his balls, the extra sensation making him buck in his seat, “a hard, aching mess at my touch, isn’t that right?”

“Ugh, if you—fuck—think I’m going to give in— Haaahhh...” His words are a jumbled mess. Bakugou leans against his seat, tossing his head back while involuntarily rocking his hips into your hand.

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you over your moaning and groaning,” you mock, watching his brows knit together at the lust consuming his being. His panting comes out ragged while he gasps for air, thighs flexing at the fire coursing through his body that teeters on a tightrope. However, before he can reach his high, the sensations are ripped away when you quickly remove your digits from him, recognizing his imminent release.

Bakugou shoots his eyes open. A sharp shift in his seat has the chair’s legs scraping against the floor. “What the hell?!” he growls, practically snarling the words out. There’s a wave of anger heard in his tone that you don’t take a liking to. You wag your finger.

“That’s no way to talk, Katsuki.”

“I don’t give a fuck! I was so damn close to cumming! Why the hell did you stop?!” Bakugou yells vehemently with a pierce in his red eyes. You run your hands on his thighs as you lean up to return the look.

“Y’know if you’re going to act like this—act like a brat—I might as well just leave you here and not let you cum at all tonight, hm?” you threaten, and the notion brings his temper to an immediate silence. The idea of you keeping him bound to this chair while his cock cries for release is enough to diminish his poise. He sinks in his seat submissively when you inch closer, eyeing the bright red of your painted lips that curls salaciously with each word you utter to him.

“But if you behave, sit here obediently, and continue looking all pretty for me, I might let you cum. How’s that sound?” you offer.

He bites his lip. It’s like he’s making a deal with a succubus right now, that damn voice of yours coaxing him.

“F-Fine…” he manages to answer. You smile at his compliance before placing a kiss on his cheek. You’re granted a glimpse of the faint, red imprint left on his skin thanks to your lipstick when you detach from him. Almost as if you’ve marked him as yours.

“Good boy.” The praise sends a shiver down his spine as you whisper it into his ear. He watches you descend onto your knees again, gazing at his cock like you’re about to pounce. And god, does he wish you would just do it already, but instead, you choose to prolong him some more and glance at him.

“Now… what do you want me to do to you?”

Really? Did you have to ask this? Bakugou furrows his brows at how you play cloy. “Argh, you already know—”

“I want to hear it from you though,” you interject, leaning forward and running a finger along a prominent vein on the side. His pretty cock twitches at your touch. “Use your words and tell me all the things you want me to do to you, ’Suki.”

Before he can bite his tongue, his mind is already one step ahead of him, blurting out his thoughts shamelessly. “God, I want to be in your mouth. I want you to suck my dick and let me cum in your throat. And then I want you to get up here, ride me to oblivion, and let me paint your pussy so fucking white. Please please please—” He adds in his pleas for good measure, the desire to climax overpowering his pride in the heat of the moment that feeds your ego.

The word “please” has never sounded so dulcet coming out of that usually vulgar mouth of his. Who knew Bakugou Katsuki was capable of begging so well? It’d be an absolute shame not to reward him for his good behavior.

You lick your lips. “There, that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Then you begin acting on his wishes, your tongue making contact with his hard cock, gradually running up the side until you reach the head. Swirling against the tip causes a growl to bellow from his throat, jerking forward when you wrap your lips around the entire head. He watches with lidded eyes as your lipstick begins smearing across his dick, sucking him in like that.

His moans sound frenzied the more his cock inches into your warm cavern. The sounds encourage you to eagerly bob your head up and down his length with your spit collecting in the back of your throat. You adore the way his cock feels in your mouth, so heavy and thick, and especially love the fact that your controlled pace has your man reeling with pleasure, finally letting his unabashed whimpers out. You savor every little sound like it’s your favorite song on repeat, which it might as well be from how slick gathers at your cunt listening to them.

“Shit! Baby, please don’t fucking stop!” he begs, head tossed behind him as you moan your response into his dick, picking up speed. Your hand pumps his shaft a few more times until you bring it down to your panties to move the material aside and rub your clit. The contact sends a tingle through your body that urges you to bottom his cock into your mouth. Feeling your wetness enveloping his cock gratifies every nerve in his body until it ultimately leaves him undone.

”Agh! Sh-Shit—!” he curses, his climax peaking as his white cum spurts inside your throat. You make sure to swallow every last drop, tasting his delicious cream on your tongue as you detach from him with a lewd pop.

Bakugou is still catching his breath by the time you happily wipe your mouth of your excess spit and any lingering drops of his delectable seed, his chest heaving in and out with the red rope flexing at his every movement. A haze clouds his vision from the intensity of his orgasm, but he’s at least able to see you standing before him—lipstick now messy but that mischief in your eyes persisting.

“Sukiiii~ You’re absolutely gorgeous like this—tied up, sweaty, and gasping for air just because of me,” you praise.

“B-Baby…” Bakugou’s tone somehow rings higher than usual. Your eyebrows perk up, the wetness at your core saturating through your panties hearing the shameless little whine.

“Kiss me… please…”

Well, since you asked so nicely…

You straddle his thighs and bring your lips to his own, letting him taste the bittersweetness of his cum from your tongues fervently melding against each other. Soon the makeout session comes to a halt with a quick peck on his lips. He peers into your glimmering expression with an insatiable need, struggling in his bonds as his cock hardens once more at your proximity—skin so warm against him. But your lingerie still obscures him from your real treasures. He wants to rip it off you already.

“Can I get out this damn thing yet?” he asks, quiet yet impatient. You shake your head.

“’Fraid not, Katsuki, I still need to ‘ride you to oblivion,’ remember?” you quote him.

Crap. He does. And surprisingly, there are no objections when you remind him. His silence amid your established authority doesn’t go unnoticed by you as you grin devilishly at how pliant he’s become throughout the night.

As if you’ve read his mind, your hand finds the clasp fastened on your back. “Since you’ve been such a good boy for me—” a simple flick of your wrist undoes the grip holding your bra together, “I’ll reward you for the rest of the night.” On cue, the skimpy garment glides down your shoulders.

Tossing the bra into the void of the bedroom, you can’t help the giggle that bubbles from your lips at Bakugou’s widened eyes aimed at your tits bared before him. He absentmindedly shifts in a vain attempt to lift his hands and grab your mounds, forgetting the rope bound on his arms behind his back prevents him from touching your soft, naked skin.

“Aw, you want to touch my tits?” you chide. Bakugou grunts in response, and you’re amused by the way he turns his head bashfully as if you miss the subtle blush dusting his cheeks. Such a cute little act.

Cupping your hand under his jaw brings his attention back to you. You nudge him so he faces you again, not allowing his eyes to gander anywhere else but on your own.

“I’ll let you do a little bit more than touch…” Your thumb lightly brushes his lower lip, pulling it down ever so slightly, and he realizes what you want him to do.

And boy, is he eager to abide by your desires.

Opening his mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to latch onto your right nipple immediately, tongue poking out around the bud. You hum in content at how passionately he licks and sucks, petting the back of his head and brushing your fingers through his soft blonde hair to encourage him along.

“Ooooh… That’s it Suki… You’re doing so well, sucking on my nipple like that,” you moan as Bakugou moves over to your left breast, giving its twin the same amount of attention. He groans between licks, flattening his tongue and drawing out the sound erotically against your skin. It spurs you to grind your clothed pussy on his erection, earning you his hisses between tugging your nub into his mouth.

In the meantime, your other hand, not caressing his locks, stumbles upon your wetness seeping past your intimates, practically soaking through onto his dick. A few strokes of your fingertips beneath your panties gathers your gossamer-like slick that interlaces your digits together in a web. You tear Bakugou off your bud to hover your glossy fingers in front of him. Right away, he begins diligently licking away at the slippery sheen, moans lewdly vibrating deep in his throat with each swipe of his tongue.

“How do I taste?”

“So fucking good. Shit, I want more,” he says. You grin, flattered by his enthusiasm to devour more of your essence. However, you’d have to put that on hold for another time.

“Hm, not tonight, I’m afraid. I need you inside me right this second.” Your words have pure anticipation sparking through his body. He stares attentively as you lift yourself over the head of his cock, aligning his length into your soaked hole, panties pushed to the side.

“Arghhh…” Bakugou hisses between gritted teeth when the first inch enters, fists clenched around nothing at how tightly you’re squeezing him. Your whimpers accompany him as you adjust to his well-endowed size, a pleasant burn seizing you. Heat sprouts in your abdomen the more you descend on Bakugou’s firm, aching cock, eventually bottoming out with a long sigh.

“Fucking hell, you’re so damn fucking tight—”

If your mouth feels good, then your pussy is practically heaven, inducing him in hot, tight bliss when you start bouncing up and down.

“Ah, Suki, your cock is so big… so hard…Mmph, I love how it fills me up!” you sing, arms wound around his neck, tits pressing against his chest. Having to sit back with nothing to leverage him amid your silky walls pressing around his cock, bursts of mini-explosions crackle in his palms. A musky scent of burnt caramel suddenly invades your senses, making your cunt clench tighter. Bakugou curses at how you hug his length.

“Fuck! Baby, I want you to ride my cock faster! Make me cum so damn hard that I feel it for weeks!”

Even when taking on a submissive role, Bakugou’s dirty talk never ceases to rile you up. You nod in reply, thighs flexed while your tempo on his cock increases to the point where it ensnares both of you in the throes of pleasure. Unable to do much except allow you to work yourself on and off him, he settles for leaning in and capturing your lips, which you respond to earnestly by parting your mouth to let your tongues dance again. A few particular hard drops later cause him to detach himself from you to groan out loudly.

The echo of your skins making firm contact against each other fogs his thoughts. His eyes are half-lidded when they gaze at you. You giggle at his expression—shrouded in pure bliss from his blanketed red eyes to his tongue peeking out of his lips. Caressing his jawline, you tilt his head up.

“Whose good boy are you?” you ask. It takes a second for him to answer.

“Y-Yours…”

You pry on, not letting up for even a second in your bouncing, “Who made you a pretty work of art tonight?”

“You! Fuck, you did!” he cries out, head tossed to the side that grants you access to the beautiful expanse of his neck. Your mouth finds his skin, kisses ascending until you reach the junction below his cut jawline as he continues reeling at the sensations building inside him.

“That’s right, Suki. So good, so obedient. I think it’s time I let you cum, yeah? Let you fill my little hole up with all your creamy white goodness…”

Your pace escalates quickly, not granting a relief of pause until you both begin arriving on the cusp of release.

“Fuckfuckfuck!! C-Cumming—!” Bakugou yells out, your grappling walls milking his twitching cock that surges into his climax. As promised, his cum coats your insides wholly white, stuffing you to the brim that has the heat inside you lurching. It’s right after the apex of his pleasure that your pussy spasms around him, body trembling, and toes curled as you peak into your high. He licks at your nipple arched in front of his face while your cries fill the space of the room.

By the time the two of you settle down in the aftermath of your euphorias, you’re both sweaty, panting messes. Bakugou more so as his head rests against your shoulder, allowing you to pet his hair between your fingers and comfort the tremors still racking through him.

“You did so so well, Katsuki. I’m very proud of you.” You lay a sweet kiss on his temple. Your praises manage to elicit a content hum from his lips while he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Before you can get up and remove the tight ropes still lining his upper body, Bakugou suddenly lifts his head and meets your eyes, a tired yet devious expression painted on his face.

“Next time, we should tie you up in these things.”

#bnha x reader #bnha smut #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha imagine #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou katsuki smut

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thataintnolady · 2 years

Text

“I must say, I was surprised when you requested a meeting with me.”

“Oh?” Eris did not allow his wariness to show on his face. “Why is that?”

“It seems a bold move, given the history between our families,” Nesta said, sipping her espresso. “But I’m not necessarily averse to boldness, so here we are.”

“History?” Eris reluctantly abandoned all pretence of having the upper hand. He was not aware of any kind of history between the Archeron family and his own. Nothing prior to Lucien’s engagement to Elain, anyway.

Those clear grey eyes bored into him for a few moments. Then understanding seemed to dawn, and her forehead smoothed. “I see. Then you don’t know. My sisters don’t either, but I assumed, as your father’s right hand, that you would.”

A slightly bitter-sounding huff escaped Eris before he could swallow it down. “You might be surprised how little my father confides in me, Nesta.”

______________________________________

New Velaris, Old Vendettas

Two households, both alike in iniquity.

The Vanserra dynasty has held sway in New Velaris for generations – a respected (if not always respectable) family, whose secrets are buried deep. The brash Dombrano brothers are new money. They took what assets their infamous father left behind after his assassination and built an empire of their own. A failed engagement that should have united their families has instead forged a bitter enmity, and the sudden resurgence of the Archeron family in the form of three eligible heiresses has only added to the bad blood.

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Chapter 2 | History

[3300 words]

“Oh, I hoped this day would never come. But I see it has.”

Lucien tilted his head quizzically. “What?”

“You’ve finally lost your mind. How sad.”

Lucien rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, Eris. You want this, right? I want this. This deal was made for us. We deserve the opportunity to build something of our own. And if the only way to get it is to-”

“Go begging to our father’s major rivals, without any guarantee of success but with the ironclad guarantee that if Beron finds out, the sanitation department will be fishing our corpses out of the Sidra a couple of days later? Sure, sounds great. Sign me up.” He folded his arms across his chest.

Lucien shook his head. “You’re such a fucking drama queen, Eris. Always have been. As far as it goes for me, the waterlogged corpse thing is a possibility, I’ll grant you that. But Beron would never do his precious firstborn so dirty. You’d get an ‘accidental’ death and a lavish funeral.” He made air quotes, grinning.

Eris smirked a little despite himself. “Yes, very droll, Luci.” Lucien hated it when he pulled out the nickname Eris used to taunt him with in childhood. “Be serious, though. I know you’ve been moving in some of the same circles as them since you got together with Elain,” he said carefully. “And that might be fine, socially. But when it comes to business, they’re every bit as ruthless as Beron. Possibly more so,” he added, thinking of Azriel, the middle brother. “What reason would people like the Dombranos have to consider investing with us, even if it wasn’t nigh on suicide to ask them?”

Lucien didn’t answer for a few moments, clicking through emails on his laptop. “Weeell,” he said eventually. “No reason, except that it’s a damn fine opportunity and when we make a raging success of it, they’ll have their money back in spades. But that alone probably wouldn’t be enough of an incentive. Unless we had something to sweeten the deal with.”

“Which we don’t,” Eris said flatly. While they both slogged their guts out for the company, all its assets and equity were held by Beron.

“Which we do,” Lucien insisted. “Information.”

Eris couldn’t speak for a moment. He glanced at Lucien’s office door, reassuring himself that it was shut. “Jesus fucking Christ, Lucien!” he hissed. “Are you seriously suggesting we sell out Forestier to the Dombranos in return for investment capital?”

“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Why not, Eris? I don’t give a damn about this shady ass company. Beron’s been a prick to me all my life, fuck knows why. He’s not vastly better with you, and you’re his supposed favourite.” He leaned forward, checking off traitorous proposals on his fingers. “We get the Dombranos on board as investors, keep our jobs here to ensure a useful flow of information, work on Usurper on the side. When it gets big enough, we tell Beron where he can stick his jobs, his apartments and his inheritance. And hopefully Mom will have enough sense to leave when we do.” He sat back, a defiant expression on his face.

Eris sucked in a slow breath through his teeth. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned eventually. “If any part of it went wrong – any part… if one person talked, one piece of paper made it into the wrong hands. We’d be so deep in shit.”

Lucien held his gaze. “I know.”

Eris thought about it for a few long moments. “I don’t have your courage, Lucien,” he said candidly. “Nesta Archeron might be a hardass, but I think she has to be plan B after all. It’s… marginally less terrifying than this.”

“Please yourself. But we’ll be back here having this conversation again soon, I think.”

“What do you mean, please myself?” Eris asked, indignant. “You’re not going to come with me to meet with her?”

Lucien gave him a thin-lipped smile. “Oh no. She’s all yours.”

*****

The offices of Elysium, a luxury retail group, were in a heritage building near the waterfront. The frontage looked almost exactly as it would have done 150 years ago, the only modification being the company’s name spelled out in slimline sans serif text. The lettering was constructed from fabricated metal with subtle backlighting.

When, against all the odds, the business’s fortunes had turned around a few years ago, Magnus Archeron had headquartered the company in the Sancarlo, one of the most prestigious buildings in the city. But after he died and the sisters inherited, Nesta had given up that lease. She’d purchased and re-fitted the historic dockside storehouse where Elysium had its beginnings as an import-export business, moving head office operations there as soon as the renovations were complete.

It was an intriguing move, taking a luxury brand and basing it in the heart of working-class New Velaris. But since then, a number of boutique businesses had sprung up nearby. Nesta Archeron was either a visionary, or just disinclined to give a single fuck what anyone else thought. Either way, that kind of swagger demanded respect, Eris thought as he gazed up at the sandstone exterior of the building.

The jury might still be out on Feyre Archeron’s taste, but her sister’s certainly couldn’t be faulted. The expansive atrium of the building struck a balance between stylish and convivial, contemporary and classic. Natural light from the building’s front windows was augmented with a warm glow from distressed copper pendant lights that formed a huge, organic-looking chandelier of sorts. There was an abundance of couches, armchairs and lowline divans upholstered in supple grey leather, scattered throughout the space in casual groupings.

A wide blond wood staircase led up to a mezzanine level where most of the offices were located. Eris knew from a feature on ArchitectureNV that the upper levels were collaborative spaces for Elysium’s design and marketing teams. He’d have liked to see them in person, but he had no excuse to be up there. He headed for the mezzanine.

He entered Nesta’s personal suite. The glass door swung silently closed behind him, immediately deadening all noise from the open atrium. Nesta’s EA looked up from behind her desk. She was a striking looking woman with olive skin and dark hair. Everyone who worked here could just as easily model for the brands, Eris thought.

“Good morning, Natalia,” Eris said smoothly, taking in the nameplate on her desk while he handed her his business card. “Eris Vanserra for Nesta Archeron.”

The woman gave him a professional smile but her expression was otherwise inscrutable as she issued him a visitor pass to pin to his lapel. She opened a calendar on her laptop, her dark eyes scanning the screen at a glance. “You’re right on time, Mr Vanserra. Nesta always appreciates that. She should be with you in just a moment. Can I send for tea or coffee for you?”

“Tea would be appreciated. Irish Breakfast, if you have it?”

“Of course.” Natalia began firing off an email, her fingers clicking efficiently over the keyboard. Eris leant against the wall to wait, looking out at the docks from the window.

It had only been a minute or two when Natalia said, “You can go in now, Mr Vanserra. Through that door, and then the first on the right.”

Nesta Archeron had her back to him as he entered, watering the plants in her office with a little enamel watering can. She had quite a number of them – several adorning her desk, and more scattered on side tables, cabinets and a low coffee table. Must be a hobby of hers. Shit, did he know anything about houseplants? His mother had a few. He scanned Nesta’s desk and spotted one with familiar looking rounded leaves.

“That peperomia looks healthy,” he said, with more confidence than he felt. “Tell me your secret?”

Nesta turned and raised an eyebrow. “Is that what it’s called? My sister gives them to me, her own place is overflowing. I keep them watered to humour her but I don’t know the first thing about plants. The ones that die go in the trash, there’s so many that she never notices. That’s my secret.” She put the watering can down on the edge of the desk.

Eris smiled, and reached out a hand. “It’s good to see you again, Ms Archeron.”

She returned the handshake firmly, but not the smile. “Nesta. We prefer to dispense with the formalities here,” she instructed coolly.

“Then you must call me Eris.”

Nesta made no reply, but gestured toward the sitting area at one end of her office. Eris took a seat in a grey leather armchair of the same type as the ones in the atrium and Nesta sat across from him at one end of the sofa, crossing one knee over the other. She was wearing a close-fitting grey shift that almost matched the leather of the furniture and the grey-blue of her eyes. Her hair was smoothed back in a low knot that might have looked matronly on another woman, but on her only served to accentuate her elegant neck and the sharp contours of her face.

She looked at him, unblinking, waiting for him to tell her why he was here. Eris found himself uncharacteristically thrown by her aloof manner. He was glad when they were interrupted by a knock and a young woman entered with a tray, giving him a chance to regain his composure. The staff member placed a cup and saucer, pot of tea and a small jug of milk on the coffee table in front of Eris, and an espresso with a thick golden crema in front of Nesta. Nesta thanked her with a smile. The woman left a dish of cookies on the table between them before exiting.

Eris busied himself with pouring a cup of tea, considering how best to broach the subject of her potential investment. But Nesta broke the silence herself.

“I must say, I was surprised when you requested a meeting with me.”

“Oh?” Eris did not allow his wariness to show on his face. “Why is that?”

“It seems a bold move, given the history between our families,” Nesta said, sipping her espresso. “But I’m not necessarily averse to boldness, so here we are.”

A slightly bitter-sounding huff escaped Eris before he could swallow it down. “You might be surprised how little my father confides in me, Nesta.”

Nesta absorbed this without comment. “Well, let me be the one to fill you in, then,” she said after a few moments. “About… oh, a little over a decade ago, our dear father tanked this company. You might remember that.”

Eris nodded. He’d been in his late teens at the time, so it wasn’t something he’d taken a particular interest in. But he remembered hearing his father discuss it, and of course he’d heard some of the details since. Especially at the time of Elysium’s improbable resurrection. “Some sort of foreign deal gone bad, wasn’t it?”

“Partially,” Nesta said. “Even I don’t know the whole of it, but basically he got greedy. Double crossed someone he should’ve known better than to get involved with in the first place, took some unnecessary risks, got shafted himself… before you know it, Elysium’s suddenly worthless and Daddy dearest is up to his neck in debt.”

Eris shook his head, unsure what to say. It wasn’t a pleasant story, but he didn’t see what it had to do with his family. As far as he knew, Forestier had never been connected to Elysium. They were in totally different lines of business.

Nesta smiled tightly, and as though she’d heard his thoughts, said, “Enter Beron Vanserra. Dad was desperate to save the business. And most of all, save face. Forestier Group then was more or less what it is now – a respectable enough business, profitable. But at that time, Beron had an even more lucrative sideline in loan sharking. From what I hear, he still dabbles in that.” She looked at Eris appraisingly.

The revelation landed like a body blow. He could see in Nesta’s face and the calm, matter-of-fact way she spoke that it was probably true, but his brain didn’t want to process it. Not so much the fact that Beron would be involved in something so shady, that was something less than a shock. He understood his father’s nature. He’d been involved in his fair share of underhand dealings himself, even without taking into account his treasonous discussion with Lucien. He knew he was far from being able to claim any moral high ground.

He’d said to Nesta himself only a few minutes ago that his father didn’t confide everything in him. But this was beyond his imaginings, and it… hurt. It made him feel like a fool, which was one kind of pain. But the part of him, buried down deep, that still sought his father’s esteem and approval was cringing in shame. At how little he truly knew, and how little his own father trusted him.

If Nesta noted his inner turmoil, she was tactful enough not to say so. “I’m sure you can guess where this is going,” she said wryly. “Dad needed money, fast, and Beron loaned it to him. But it was all too late. Elysium went under anyway, and Dad couldn’t pay back the loan. The administrators liquidated the business, the bank took our home, and Beron’s goons took everything else. And then worked him over so badly he was in the hospital for two months.”

Eris swallowed the string of profanities he really wanted to let loose with. He remembered whispers about Magnus Archeron being badly injured, but hadn’t paid much attention. After that, the Archerons had sort of… dropped off the face of the earth. “I’m so sorry, Nesta. I honestly had no idea.”

Nesta looked away for a few moments, staring out the window. “Yes. Well, it’s in the past now.”

Eris sipped from his teacup, trying to decide the least embarrassing way to bring the meeting to a close. It was obvious he couldn’t pitch the project to Nesta Archeron, not after this. “Well, I-”

“What was it y-”

They both laughed halfheartedly. “You go ahead,” Eris insisted.

“I was just wondering what it was that you wanted to discuss. Before I went off on that tangent,” Nesta said.

“You know what? It really doesn’t matter. After everything you and your family have been through, I’m sure you’d be happiest keeping your distance from ours. Sorry to have taken up your time.”

“Well, that won’t be happening,” Nesta said, before he could get to his feet.

Eris frowned. “What do you mean?”

Nesta shrugged one shoulder. “Your brother is marrying my sister. Our families are linked whether we like it or not, so I don’t imagine distance is really an option. You might as well just tell me whatever it is you’re here for.”

Eris sighed, knowing it was pointless, but he’d been backed into a corner. “It was about an investment opportunity, but like I said, forget about it.”

Nesta frowned. “Investment? In Forestier?”

“No, not exactly. It’s a separate project I want to take on with my brother. Usurper Media is up for sale, and with our respective skills, I think we could really make something of it.”

“But your father’s not interested,” Nesta guessed shrewdly.

Eris chewed on his bottom lip. “Let’s just say he feels it’s not in our wheelhouse. He’s… very conservative. Anyway, there would have been the potential for crossover with Elysium. Viral campaigns, product placement – subtle, of course, Usurper’s market is not the kind that swallows the hard sell.”

“You’re right, it would have to be carefully done,” Nesta agreed. “I’d steer clear of influencer partnerships, it’s becoming tacky.”

“That’s one of the things we’d discussed too,” Eris said slowly. “You’re… not actually considering this, are you?”

For the first time, Nesta gave him a small smile. “Actually, if I was in a position to invest, I’d be quite excited about it. Usurper has plenty of potential, Lucien would be a wizard at marketing it and if you can handle running a property behemoth, you’d have no problems growing a startup.” She registered Eris’s surprise. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. Anyone with a brain knows it’s you who really steers Forestier, whatever it says on the website.”

She bit into a shortbread cookie, thinking. “I’ll be straight with you though, I don’t have ready capital available. We’re in a growth phase ourselves, and the balance is delicate. The last thing I’ll ever do is overreach the way my father did.”

Eris nodded. “Understandable. Well, thanks for listening, anyway. It’s more than I expected.”

“Hang on a minute, I’m not done,” Nesta said, brushing non-existent crumbs from her lap. “Take it to Rhys. I’d be surprised if he didn’t see the value in it.”

Et tu, Nesta? Eris thought. “My family’s history with the Dombranos is every bit as fraught as it apparently is with your own,” he countered, smiling slightly. “I’m sure your lover has nothing nice to say about me.”

“Cassian? He’s no longer my lover,” Nesta said indifferently. “For that reason, I’d venture that I’m presently even less popular with the Dombranos than you.”

“Oh? Well, I’m sorry to hear that. On both counts.”

“Don’t be, on either count. Listen, suit yourself. If you don’t want to talk to Rhys, don’t. Personally, I’m not a fan of his either. But whatever else he may be, the man’s no idiot. He knows a solid opportunity when he sees it and he has cash to burn. History or not, he’ll hear you out if you have the stones to approach him. It’s up to you.”

With that, she abruptly stood, the audience apparently at an end. Eris did the same, hesitating as he followed her to the door.

“Listen, I don’t mean to be presumptuous. But I’ve enjoyed talking with you. I’d love to take you out for a drink and let you know how it goes with Rhys, if you’re interested.”

Nesta regarded him for a long moment, her face giving nothing away. “Okay,” she said eventually, opening the office door and stepping out into the hallway. “Give my EA a call next week and we’ll schedule something.”

“Perhaps the lovely Natalia could pencil something in for us now, so long as we’re here,” Eris said, giving the brunette a wide smile as they passed back into the outer reception area.

“The lovely Natalia is on vacation this week actually,” Nesta said, amusement quirking a corner of her lips. “This is Emerie, our Head of Product Development. She has an office of her own, she just likes to lurk here for some peace and quiet occasionally.”

Emerie wiggled her fingers at him in a little wave, hiding a smile.

“I’m so sorry,” Eris said, flushing. Why the hell had she let him behave like she was Nesta’s receptionist when she wasn’t?

“Easy mistake,” Emerie said. “What is it we’re scheduling in?” she asked, with a pointed look at Nesta.

“Never mind.” Nesta went behind the reception desk for a moment and grabbed a pen and a business card. She scrawled a number on the back of it and handed it to Eris. “Just text me. Good luck.”

#nvov #acotar fic #acotar #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #vanserra family #nesta archeron #emerie of illyria

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meteor752 · 3 years

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Dsmp Hogwarts AU, except it’s all the characters and I go into why they are what they are, please reblog this took a long ass time

Man, what a title Huh? Anyways, this will obviously go over the characters and not the content creators, because in some cases those are vastly different

Also, before we start, I will go over an important thing that I will mention probably a few times, and that is the difference between Hufflepuff Loyalty and Slytherin Loyalty.

Both of these houses value loyalty, but in very different ways. Take for example that you’re a spy who has their best friend as their partner, and you’re out on some super important mission. Let’s also say that your partner got shot and is close to death, and the only way to save them would be to abandon the mission entirely.

A Hufflepuff would try to complete the mission because it would be the best for all, while the Slytherin would abandon the mission despite the fact that it could result in countless deaths, just to save their friend.

See it as Selfish Loyalty vs Selfless loyalty. Both are great things to have, but are still different.

Anyways, on with the show

Tomathy Danger Kraken Careful Innit

I have seen people try to argue that this boy is a Hufflepuff because of his loyalty and such, but gosh darnit everyone this child is a god damn Gryffindor. I mean, one of his main character traits is that he’s brash and too brave for his own good. The reason he got fucking exiled is because he burned down George’s house without thinking of the consequences, and then just screamed at Dream without thinking of the consequences. The same goes for Ghostbur’s “death”, it was because he had no real plan except Stab Dream with an axe. So yeah, Gryffindor

Wilbur Soot

Slytherin, 100%. This man has created one and a half nation, one entirely out of spite, he was both a general and a president, he’s a smart lil fella, and he managed to hold his own against the god of the server. I don’t even thing you guys wanna argue with me here

Tuberculosis Underscore

This one is tricky, because it’s really between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for me. Like, he does possess the Hufflepuff loyalty™ plus he is very kind, but he’s also one of the more logical and observant characters we have in this server (The bar is very low let me tell ya). But I think I will have to go with Ravenclaw, just because like, the boy invented nukes. He built fucking nukes. So yeah, a very chaotic Ravenclaw that will spout bee facts at you, be prepared

Technoblade

My man is a Ravenclaw, no doubt about it. I mean, he started talking about an old greek myth in the middle of a war? Just Ravenclaw things amiright?

Philza Minecraft

I will have to go with Slytherin on this one, simply because of the large amount of Slytherin Loyalty, but also because of his cunningness and resourcefulness, but for real this was very tricky, simply because I don’t like to think about c!Phil too much because as some of you may know, I kinda hate him (Not the cc though, obvs, he’s awesome)

Ranboo My Beloved

Hufflepuff. This boy’s ideology is literally “Choose people, not sides”, he’s an honest and compassionate boy who works hard, and has a very open mind. He’s literally the by the book Hufflepuff

Eret

Honestly, Slytherin. I mean, they are ambitious as fuck, both shown by them betraying L’Manburg for the throne, but also by working hard towards their redemption arc. They are also a good leader of the smp, and in general a great role model to have

Nikki Nihachu

This one is actually difficult, simply because Nikki has gone through quite the character arc the past couple of months. She started out kind, sweet and loyal, a classic Hufflepuff. Then she joined the syndicate and straight up tried to kill a child, which is less Hufflepuff but who am I to judge. But in her core, as seen through her discussion with Jack about Tommy’s revival, she is still a good person that works hard for what she believes in, wants the best for everyone (Despite sometimes working in her best self interest) remains kind through it all. So yeah, Nikki is a Hufflepuff, just a bit of a sadistic one. But we can’t all be perfect ya know?

Fun Jonathan Michael Vincent Georgina James Sus Dy Soot

Ah, my favorite character, and also one of the best examples of a Ravenclaw. And I ain’t saying that just cuz I’m a Ravenclaw, Fundy is one of the most Ravenclaw characters out there. He’s creative, Clever, Spontaneous, Witty, Curious, Sharp, and a real trickster. The idea of Ravenclaws being the goody two shoes kids that always does their school work is just false, we never do our Homework and instead sit and read about things we find interesting, and Fundy is a good example of that. Also he was quite the eager learner during the Dreamon Hunters arc, which again is a good example of a Ravenclaw. So if Ranboo is the by the book Hufflepuff, then Fundy is the by the book Ravenclaw.

Dreamwastaken

I’m pretty sure it’s confirmed that Dream is actually a Slytherin, and I ain’t arguing with that. This boy is cunning, sly, a leader, traditional, Self-Preserving, and a master with words. There is not much more to say here, apart from the fact that Slytherins main colour is literally green, so it all checks out, this boy is a snake.

George Lore

Mr not found over here really is hard to pinpoint down, simply because his main character trait is his apathy, which isn’t really a trait for any of the houses. I was discussing this one with my girlfriend, and both of us were pretty clueless of what to do with him. I was thinking if Hufflepuff since they take the ones that don’t fit anywhere else, but then I was reminded of the most recent Dream XD stream, which showed us one thing, and that is that George is clever, observant, and Sharp Minded, all the traits of a Ravenclaw. Sure, he could also be Slytherin as he was both cunning and sly as well, but I think Ravenclaw fits him more personally.

Sappitus Nappitus Boyhalo

Finally we have another Gryffindor, there’s been a serious lack of them on the list. My man is a fighter, he’s bold, he’s brave, he’s passionate, he’s confident, and he doesn’t really think that much of the consequences of his actions (Cough the pet war cough), so yeah this boy a lion.

Punz

Ah, Punzie, the mercenary themself. Tbh, I know very little about them because Punz don’t get involved that much in lore unless they are hired for something. I mean, they were in the eggpire, but even then they were barely involved, which is sad cuz I like Punz. But what we have seen of Punz is that they are someone who does not care about you or what you want, as long as you pay them. They are power hungry and self preserving, which means that I have to put them in Slytherin.

Jack Thunder1408 TV Manifold

The boy who I can’t help but be sympathetic towards. Jack is also a hard character to pin point because of the reason that he’s gone through quite the development. Jackie boy is a very broken character that has literally been through hell, so it’s hard to properly sort him. He’s quite confident and clever, yet cunning and resourceful, so for me it’s either Slytherin or Gryffindor. But I do lean towards Gryffindor more, partly because of his stubbornness and gullibility, and part because of all the fire imagery that’s associated with him. I mean, the cc described him as burning inside, he’s been through the scape of fire and death, and he burnt his nation to the ground. In case you didn’t know, Fire is the element of Gryffindor, so yeah, another red and gold boy.

JSchlatt

Schlatt is as both charming, charismatic and calm in the early days, using subtle manipulation tactics to get his way and achieve ultimate power. He’s ambitious, narcissistic, cunning, and tyrannical, while still hiding it all behind a facade of smiles and waves. He could also be both cruel and irresponsible at times, aka the time he had an underage child drink during an event, but ya know, mistakes. So all in all, I think it’s pretty clear that he’s a Snakey boy.

QuackityHQ

As much as I love CC!Quackity, I also fucking hate him because of the many, many different directions he’s taken this character which makes it possible for him to fit in literally any of the houses. The duckie is both Chaotic and lawful, he’s both friendly and hostile, he’s a smart cookie and a fucking dumbass, so like bruh. But, I’m gonna have to go with how he is now, which is manipulative, power hungry, cruel, and strong willed. Aka, another Slytherin.

Karl Jacobs

Finally, a character that is not broken down to the point of barely making out a readable personality. Karl is a kind and funny person, who is very open to new people considering how often he gives tours to visitors and new people, and he is quite literally loosing himself traveling through time in an attempt to help people. Hufflepuff

Awesamdude

This one I know will be controversial, but I’m saying Hufflepuff on him. Sam is one of the best cases of the Hufflepuff loyalty, literally letting both Tommy and Ghostbur be stuck and ultimately die in the prison just so he wouldn’t risk Dream breaking out. Before that point he was very kind and gentle towards Tommy, literally building a robot to keep him safe and take care of him. Sam nook is a reflection of Sam’s feelings towards Tommy, and they are kind and gentle.

Dropsbyponk

Ughhhh, another tough one. Ponk is a chaotic being who is mostly neutral in conflicts, but is shown to be very open about their feelings towards those they care about, like Sam or Foolish. They seem to be have strong feelings in what they believe in, and can be a bit brash sometimes, not really caring about the consequences of their actions, which is what makes me say Gryffindor for them.

Badboyhalo

Our favorite muffin demon. I assume, I don’t know what life you live. Anyways, Bad is like the stereotypical Hufflepuff. The kindhearted, well meaning, sweet, responsible Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff that’s like in all of those incorrect quotes blogs and “Slytherin and Hufflepuff friendships uwu” posts. But for real, Bad is very Hufflepuff. He does however have Slytherin Loyalty, considering he pretty much sacrificed the entire server for Skeppy, but if you would try to convince me that Bad is a Slytherin I will just laugh at you

Skeppy

It was at this point I realized what I’ve gotten myself into with this post, which you know, not fun. Skeppy is both cocky and filled with energy, with a real ambition to cause chaos. He’s also shown to be willing to sacrifice himself for the person he loves, Bad, when he gave himself up to the egg. I’ve seen some people say Slytherin, but I’m kinda getting Gryffindor from the lad, so yeah, another lion.

Antfrost

Frosty here is a kind hearted person that for the most part seem to be along for the ride. He reminds me a bit of a parent of toddlers, with his patience and serenity towards the more chaotic people on the server, so of course my natural instinct is Hufflepuff. Buuuuut, then there’s again the issue with the egg and the Slytherin loyalty, this time towards his boyfriend Velvet who he was willing to join a cult for (relationship goals) but again, you can’t really say Ant is a Slytherin considering how wrecked he was about what he did while in the eggpire when he was released from it’s grasp. So yeah, Puffle boy

Captain Puffy

Oh captain my captain, you are such a Gryffindor. And some of you may disagree on that, stating that she’s a Hufflepuff or something (I did research before this to check what other people think, I know) but naaah, she a lion. Puffy is very motherly and protective towards other people on the server, especially the minors, but in the way that a Bear is protective towards its cub, which is gentle towards them but fierce towards others. Puffy also falls natural in the role of a leader as seen with Pro-Omelette, but that is kinda expected since she’s a past Pirate Captain. But she wasn’t the leader she was supposed to be, as she waited quite a while to act against the eggpire out of fear of hurting her friends, which lead to quite the damage towards the rest of the server. She’s also been shown to act on impulse, killing Antfrost and taking one of his lives after he killed her son. Idk if this is a good explanation of why I believe Puffy to be a Gryffindor, it sounds more like I’m claiming her to be a Slytherin or Hufflepuff, but she is a Gryffindor I promise!

Foolish Gamers

Foolish is a kind and friendly being, if not a bit naive and easily distracted. He’s also not the brightest person, in fact I’d go as far as to call the guy a Himbo, and he can be a bit skittish sometimes if he’s stressed or haven’t taken a break in a while. But despite it all, the guy is someone who’s creative and hard working, with a brilliant mind for his building. The man is an artist who can get grumpy if you suppress his creative aura, and put his heart and soul into his works. He also has a habit of getting wrapped up in big projects, and ignoring sleep or personal care until he’s finished them. This all leads me to say that Mr Gamers is a Ravenclaw, just not the smartest one. But hey, we can’t all be geniuses, can we.

Slimecicle

Slime is very naive and very trusting towards people around him, taking every word they say as a fact. He can also be a bit dark and ominous at times, but quickly shakes it off as nothing important. This all makes him quite childish, which is very hard to sort, so I’m gonna say Hufflepuff for his friendliness and move on.

Purpled Bedwars

I actually started loving this guy the minute I saw him, purely because Purple is my favorite colour, like my man has taste. Purpled, like Punz, is a guy who helps whoever pays him the most. He’s not interested in most things on the server, too busy looking out for number one (And Dogchamp of course). He’s very self reliant and resourceful, but still quite passive. He may not be the most ambitious guy, but Purpled is definitely a Slytherin (It also brings me and my girlfriend Serotonin knowing that the mercenary siblings are both in the same house, we love those two)

Hannahxxrose

I don’t watch Hannah that much, but god I love her voice, it makes my lesbian little heart happy. Hannah is a friendly person who is very naive about the conflicts on the server, thinking it all can can be solved by placing a rose (God I wish). She’s a good decorator and a good hearted person, who unfortunately fell victim to the egg’s influence. I’m going with Hufflepuff on her, but I’m honestly not entirely sure as I don’t know that much about her.

HBomb94

H is a very well meaning person that only really wants people to be friendly towards each other. He had a strict moral code and he keeps to it, as shown where Fundy tried to get his help with blowing shit up. He’s very helpful to those who ask and is willing to back up his friends when it’s needed, which makes me say that the friendly totally not dirty cat maid is a Hufflepuff.

Connoreatspants

I just want you all to know that I’m writing this before Connor’s lore stream that surely will just go against everything I say because fate hates me, just so ya know. Connor is not a person that does stuff on the server with lore and he for the most part keeps to himself, so this is a bit hard. Connor also has this thing where he likes to say things just to confuse him, and also making a bit of cursed lore, but he’s still a fairly humble person. He does lie and steal a bit, and has this habit of moving into other people’s houses, but I digress. I’m actually leaning towards Ravenclaw on him, for some reason, so that’s what I’m going with until I have more of an established character.

ItsAlyssa

I know she has left the server and stuff, but she was one of the original members so it would be a crime not to include her. Alyssa is a bit chaotic, often going on killing sprees, or burning down the trees outside of L’Manburg. So I’m placing Alyssa in Gryffindor, but to be honest I don’t really know at this point.

Callahan

How do you sort a person who does not speak, stream, or show like anything of his personality? The answer is, you don’t. Hufflepuff is the house of those who don’t fit in anywhere else, and that’s where I’m placing him.

Vikkstar123

Please log onto the server I’m begging you, I didn’t watch you as a kid and honestly know nothing about you. From what I’ve seen of Vik he’s a very humble person that tries to stay out of it all, instead forming a land together with his bro Lazar. Honestly my instincts say Ravenclaw and I trust my instincts, so I’m putting him in Ravenclaw

Lazarbeam

Lazar was actually a big part of the exile arc which I realized after already have written his, so now I gotta rewrite it. Lazar is fairly ambitious on the server, and has the goal to obtain the most powerful objects on the server just to rival the other strong members of the smp. He’s especially against Tommy, and aims to do a lot to be the opposite of him, aka well respected and not a war criminal that got exiled (Totally fair goal). Despite that, he was able to show some empathy to the British child, even going as far as to give him a disk during his exile. This all makes me say Slytherin on him.

Michaelmcchill

Newest boy. Michael is a very apathetic person, showing little to no empathy towards most people’s trauma on the server. The person he does feel empathy for however is Dream, who of course did nothing wrong and is locked up in the prison which is just horrible oh no. Michael just truly does not care about what you’ve been through (as of now) which is why I’m gonna say Slytherin, because he does have Slytherin loyalty towards Mr Was Taken.

TL;DR

Tommy-Lion

Wilbur-Snake

Tubbo-Eagle

Techno-Eagle

Philza-Snake

Ranboo-Badger

Eret-Snake

Nikki-Badger

Fundy-Eagle

Dream-Snake

George-Eagle

Sapnap-Lion

Punz-Snake

Jack-Lion

Schlatt-Snake

Quackity-Snake

Karl-Badger

Sam-Badger

Ponk-Lion

Bad-Badger

Skeppy-Lion

Antfrost-Badger

Puffy-Lion

Foolish-Eagle

Slime-Badger

Purpled-Snake

Hannah-Badger

HBomb-Badger

Connor-Eagle

Alyssa-Lion

Callahan-Badger

Vik-Eagle

Lazar-Snake

Michael-Snake

So all together we have Seven lions, Ten Snakes, Seven Eagles and Ten Badgers. I think that’s fair tbh

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saucysheba · 1 month

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Fic preview

first four pages of what I've been working on, just a waring it's very self-indulgent and still working on editing/wrapping up the first chapter. This is just a little bit

Chapter 1

Notes: Song Mimzy sings is 'Empty Bed Blues' by J. C. Johnson / Recorded by Bessie Smith

Bee's Knees

Neon lights crackled in greeting, vibrant pink and reds framed her name. Bold, brash and a touch tacky, just like her. A series of taps on the door then he gave the password, but the bouncer hesitated. Alastor could only guess what all the owner had said about him since they parted. Nothing pleasant, if the stalling was anything to go by.