#give the doormat a man who thinks a little too much of himself and ends up teaching her how to better love herself

[toxinellebug]

Shadybug/ClawNoir supporting character Headcanons

Jagged Stone? More like Jared Smith. He wanted to be a rockin musician, but his type of music is banned by the Supreme so his career never took off. Instead, he ended up marrying his girlfriend, Nannette Couffaine, after accidentally knocking her up with twins, released his pet crocodile into the Seine, got an apartment, and works a regular job that he HATES. But, he secretly still tries to record music and sells it on the black market where it has become somewhat popular in the indie underground, but if he were caught he would go to prison for sure. It’s not a happy marriage but he does what he has to. His kids last names are hyphenated Couffaine-Smith.

No houseboat, and without Royalties from music labels, neither Juleka or Luka could afford to go to Francois Dupont

Penny works as an assistant for Bob Roth and HATES IT. The man is a sexist slave driver, but this business is brutal.

Nadja Chamack is not a news anchor. You can’t be a single mother AND have a career that takes up so much of your time. As a result, Marinette has never had to babysit Manon.

Lila wants to challenge Chloe’s position as queen of the school, but there are no lies about charity work, only lies of what powerful and famous connections she has.

Adrien is not interested in being friendly with Lila, and definitely not going to help her with schoolwork. But he is still the ultimate trophy and key to winning popularity in Lila’s eyes, so she is determined to “win him over”, even though he finds her almost as annoying as Chloe, but Chloe he is stuck with due to her mom’s working relationship with his dad.

Gabriel doesn’t trust Lila one bit.

The sad and negative emotions he is forced to sense due to the power of the Butterfly brooch cause him distress, and he often has to excuse himself due to “headaches” from overworking, as a creative’s work is never done… But he is always listening for the emotions of people crying out for justice, for help, for people who wish they had the power to help.

Andre Glacier is still the Sweetheart’s ice-cream maker, but Sweetheart’s ice-cream is just a special menu item that you can request. Otherwise he has a scheduled route and serves the ice-cream that customers ask for.

Alya’s dad wishes the zoo could focus more on animal enrichment and larger enclosures but they don’t have the budget for such “unnecessary extravagences”.

Mr. Haprel hopes to make it as a famous Mime one day so he can be rich enough to afford to send his daughter, Mylene, to the school he works at as a janitor.

Everyone avoids Ivan.

Thomas Astruc never made it as a famous director, rather, the Supreme favored his University Rival, Andre Bourgeois, who also owns the Le Grande Paris Hotel.

Gina and Roland Dupain are not divorced/separated per say… Gina was sent to prison for civil disobedience. That’s why Tom is a doormat and just goes along with whatever discipline Sabine decides on because he doesn’t want his precious little girl to end up a criminal like her grandmother.

Sabine does not teach an inkpainting class on the weekend or practice tai chi or feng shui.

The walls of Marinette’s home are not pink, they are a boring beige that she hates.

The Agreste Manor is not a sterile, black and white modern decor dungeon. It is a prism of color, function, form, beauty and nature with nods to antiquity and the whimsical. Adrien HATES it. All color and light left this world when his mother died. The art in his house mocks his pain.

There is no school blog for Nathaniel to post his art on… But Marc ended up in that class instead of Marinette. (So did Mireille) He’s still too shy to admit he’s a writer. And even more shy to admit he has a crush on Nathaniel, so all he can do is watch the boy quietly. Rose thinks it’s a romantic tragedy and wants to play matchmaker. Alex thinks it’d be a disaster waiting to happen.

There is no Prince Ali who gives toys to sick kids in hospitals.

There is nothing as frivolous as videogame tournaments, so Max devotes all his spare time to his hobby of robotics and developing an AI… but developing an artificial intelligence is frowned upon. Luckily, Alya can keep a secret… that is, if Max is willing to spare some of his time to helping her havkninto the dark web to research conspiracy theories.

Wayhem is obseesed with Adrien, who can’t stand crazy fanatics and won’t lose any sleep if the Gorilla tackles the scrawny boy to the ground.

After much convincing, bullsh**ing, and bribes, Gabriel is able to host his derby hat design competition at Francois Dupont, (and hopefully, modelling his classmate’s creations will be a bonding point for Adrien to make a new friend) Rose sees it as an opportunity to tries to get Marc and Nathaniel to work with her to create a hat, hoping sparks will fly between them.

Even if Marinette WANTED to enter a stupid contest involving that spoiled, stuck-up Agreste boy, which she DOESN’T, her mother won’t allow it because sewing and doodling outfits is a distraction from her schoolwork.

Chloe still cheats.

But Shadybug discreetly sabotages the fashion show the winning hat is supposed to feature in.

Nathalie never became Gabriel’s assistant or even acquaintance. Instead, she is in charge of the department of the Louvre that archives and locks away all “banned” art and artifacts (aka anything related to Miraculous holders)

Alex thinks she’s creepy and hates how she coldly bosses around her dad.

Audrey is the same as ever, with the exception that she recognizes that her younger daughter Zoe has some talent, and wants Andre to find a movie part for her to play, and ignores Chloe’s bitter jealousy which causes her to lash out at others even nastier than in Ladybug and Cat Noir’s universe.

Nino is treated rudely and ignored by Adrien. Adrien would never agree to play a role in Nino’s movie and even accuses Nino of trying to use Adrien’s celebrity status to give himself an unfair advantage in the student movie competition.

Adrien doesn’t have time for stupid group projects or after school activities. But not because he has a full schedule since this Universe’s Gabriel is a decent father who does not demand perfection and give a 14 year old a burdensome schedule… It’s because outside of fencing and modeling, Adrien plans to spend his time planning out which sections of the city he’s going to take his anger out on that night.

Gabriel never forgot his roots as the son of a fry-cook, and occasionally tries to cook comfort food (NOT PANCAKES) for Adrien, who insists he’s not hungry or that junk is bad for his skin/weight, which has Gavriel worried about Adrien developing body dysphoria and eating disorders… These worries are put to rest when he finds out Adrien has suddenly developed a sweet tooth for baked goods. Therefore he has no qualms about his son frequenting the local bakery so often because a growing boy needs to eat and a treat is good for the spirit.

He wishes he could be more honest with Adrien, but he knows that it would destroy his son if he ever found out that the sickness that took his mother’s life was caused by his creation… He’s also not sure what kind of trauma Adrien would have to the fact he’s not human.

Gabriel also doesn’t want Adrien in danger. Gabriel wants to create a better world for his son to live in, a world where he and everyone else can be free! Where people can throve without stepping over others, and the poor don’t have to suffer. Where people have rights to love freely and express opinions without fear. A world where people help one another.

Gabriel would never use the rings to control Adrien, instead, he keeps them locked away in a safe, and plans to give them to Adrien someday when he is an adult and less likrly to misplace them because if they were to fall into the wrong hands, Gabriel shudders to think of what would become of Adrien.

Audrey still has a low key crush on Gabriel which makes him cringe but he still acts polite to keep up working relations, and he also pities his friend Andre, trapped in a one-sided marriage and bullied by his daughter and his wife.

[maze-of-my-design]

7 8 12 15 for sumi!!!!

(the ask game in question times 3)

[incredible excitement] YA HOO!!!!

7- SUMIRE/VIOLET REDESIGNS MY BELOVEDS god y'all don't know how i love em. As much as i love the canon outfit they SHOULD'VE given her a redesign, small as it may be. Love it when people give her different hairstyles too, shout-out to the short hair sumis out there i love every single one of em. I'm not a part of em personally but i believe in their beliefs.

Also extra shout-out to that one Transmasc Sumire post I think about it always and i love that for him. in love tbh.

7.5 i need more positivity after last post - When people see her past the "hello senpai uwu im so cutesey and shy" personality and treat her issues like they do, say, Akechi's for example. She's an interesting character guys they couldve done so much with her, she isn't just the Badly Interwoven Royal Marketable Plushie guys plea

8- Probably the inverse of the 7.5 point AND when they make her just "akeshu's child" or "akeshu's thirdwheel" or just. make her revolve around them, yknow? ESPECIALLY when it's Royal Trio stuff. She would be mildly concerned about their Doomed Yaoi Swag, of course, but it wouldn't be her sole character trait. Also, when they make her into this permanent doormat-type, fragile little girl. Please, Sumire literally asks Makoto to teach her how to physically clock a bitch in the Theives Den, she's the first one who rushes into battle during Maruki's palace before The Revelation (AND she's verbally told to slow down by AKECHI), she kills three shadows SINGLEHANDEDLY during the intro to the game WHILE LANDING BACKFLIPS. ON HEELS. Sumire is by no means weak or shy in battle and she would be willing to knock a man unconscious if need be.

12 (except it's multiple bc i love her) - She'd be a featherman fan. Maybe not a fanatic, but she'd enjoy the show greatly! She'd also like Disney movies (though not the company itself because Fuck Disney) and taught herself how to pirate TV shows and films so that she could enjoy them in her spare time. Lastly i think she'd enjoy sewing, while Kasumi would have enjoyed embroidering. Two sisters fixing and embelishing clothes, two parts of a whole, you feel me?

12.5 - She's 16 during Royal. Listen, i know she's a first year, but it is stated IN GAME that "the girl who died [Kasumi] was 15" and Sumire is brainwahsed by Maruki on the twins' birthday (according to the wiki) so she would be 16 instead of 15 and that innacuracy drives me a little nuts i think. However we know that fandom wikis aren't the end all be all of characetr info so correct me if i'm wrong

15- I guess i enjoy shu/sumi and sumi/taba* sometimes – their stuff can be rly cute tbh – but i think we were robbed of a bond between Akechi and Sumire. They're the only two theives who arent really members of the theives (Sumire being openly against their methods since they'd make society over-rely on them, Akechi being Akechi), They're both people who pretended to be someboy they weren't because of a single man who thought himself holy, they reunited with eachother at their realest moment (Akechi being Crow, Sumire awakening to who she really is). Akechi would have the opportunity to open himself up at his own pace with her instead of traumadumping to strategically get closer to chosen people, Sumire would get to be more walls-down and feel bad instead of just pretending to be ok. Sumire would learn to be more blunt with others and Akechi would get to be less defensive and mellow down. They're both more honest with eachother than with other people. do you see the vision?

Now i wouldn't say i ship them, moreso i see a Warriors Bond between them where saying friends is too simple but neither would want to kiss eachother on the mouth like That by any means (That is a Gay Man and a Lesbian your honor). They're two ppl who have their worst moments near eachother for an hour and then proceed to cuddle on the couch watching featherman to calm down.

(also because a full on romantic ship would be a little weird considering their ages and all)

*typing the ships like that so that they don't show up on search

[thoumpingground]

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Thoughts: Chapters 38-42

Helen is plotting her escape, let's gooo!! But first, drama. I knew Lowborough would end up suicidal. The way Helen describes him struggling not to kill himself in the room the night after he discovers the adultery is bone-chilling. He's pretty serene all things considered, though. Forgives Helen fairly quickly for keeping him in the dark, turns out Hattersley's plot to "take care" of Huntington (lol), by the looks of it gives Annabella a generous alimony if she's able to keep partying in London. It made me sad that he's happy to keep his son but not his daughter (because she looks like her mother, I guess? idr what Annabella looks like) but the story is bleak enough as it is and unless I'm contradicted later I'm choosing to believe he gets over it for both of their sakes.

Hargrave... vindictive little scumbag. I'm so mad at myself for feeling bad for you. In a book full of hateable men it's impressive how quickly he made top of the list. I wanted to scream when Helen told him about her escape plans. For a second I thought he might help her... but of course not. I have to go back to the Gilbert parts and see if he calls Helen "his angel" because that's clearly a red flag (Huntington did it too, that much I remember). I hope he goes back to Paris and some french opera girl drains him of all his money.

Hattersley is all over the place in these chapters. Such a chaotic redemption arc. Offering Lowborough to be his fucking hitman (again, lol), defending Helen from Huntingdon when they think she's cheating with Hargrave (so many bloody H's in this book), encouraging Huntingdon to turn a new leaf while they ply his son with alcohol... I know he had that conversation with Helen about Millie not feeling anything a few chapters back, so it doesn't exactly come out of nowhere, and he loves his kids, and he's still a dick through his good moments (plying toddler Arthur with alcohol, calling Helen names even while defending her...), but it still feels sudden. And when did he start loving Millie to the point the idea of making her happy pushes him over the edge into reform? He only married her because she was a doormat, and he's been deluding himself into thinking she was dead inside (that or she has a poker face that would put Vegas out of business), and I know he's been strugggling with that, but still. I'm glad Millie gets a reformed husband by the end of this section, but wow. What a trip.

Huntingdon commitment to get worse is impressive. I was surprised he pawned Helen off to his friends. Again, I'd read Arthur wasn't phisically abusive, and it appears he never rapes her, but this sounds an awful lot like he's giving his friends leave to. I have a half-formed thought about how Huntingdon keeps making masculinity and power about viciousness. He's making a show out of corrupting little Arthur to hurt Helen, but I think he sincerely beleives it's making a man out of him, and if they were on better terms he'd be doing it covertly. "A Misadventure"... Hooly shit, if there was ever understatement. And a reason to title the following chapter "Hope Springs Eternal in the Human Breast"! If the book hadn't started after Helen made her escape it might have made me cry. The bitter, sinister delight Huntingdon takes in stripping Helen of every mean of escape, and how casually he's able to do it, how ties his masculinity to it... I don't understand how this book isn't better known. This should be taught at schools.

I hate the way nobody's allowed to talk about the abuse. I swear, this is 1984 with petticoats. Helen and Millie urging Esther to be careful who she chooses while insisting that they're happy themselves... It reframes all Helen's and Aunt Margaret's interactions from early in the diary, though Esther seems more receptive than Helen (thank god...). Helen trying (usuccesfully) to hide her unhappiness from Aunt Margaret is so sad. So is her guilt over giving her aunt grief in her old age. On brighter news, Frederick to the rescue! I knew something good would come of Huntingdon fucking off to London for half the year! I knew Lawrence was Helen's brother! It's gonna be fun when she finds out that Gilbert struck him in the face. It's gonna be fun when Gilbert realizes who he struck in the face!

[c0rvidbones]

Out of all your OCs, who's your favorite and why?

>:D YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD OF A QUESTION THIS IS BUT IVE BEEN DYING FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ABOUT MY OCS

GAH okay okay its a HUGE tossup between two of them and it doesn't help they are Brothers but I think I will have to say it's Umbra! Infodump that's super long and also art by my sick ass friend under the cut.

This is him! My feral bastard man, the one with the blue hair and pronouns! I realised while selecting these I literally do not own a single piece of art that is him by himself, he's basically glued to the hip of his husband, Penchant (written by my friend over at @/cherryfull, who also does draw all of this GORGEOUS art. The other person in the very last picture is his little brother, Axel)

Please know Umbra isn't small, Pen is just a fucking Giant of a man at a hearty 6'7"

[Quick info; he is a like 5'8-5'10 ish polynesian-french transman and a [very, Very fallen] angel of knowledge, and he struck a deal with the primordial Chaos to share and gain all the knowledge he possibly could in order to bolster his magic to an unreasonable level when he calls on it.]

He's a weird little man who I have been writing for like, 11?? Years now? He started out SO different, all warm and bright, passive and pastel/cottagecore, but through all of his batshit insane Events he's ended up this goth mildly aggressive edgelord (affectionate) who is mean for fun but is also still secretly helpful.

I think a huge part of him being my favourite, aside from him literally being my oldest, is that he has always been how I processed a lot of stressful things and got through unhappy times. I love calling his current era his "villain era" but it literally kicked off with him deciding to stop being a doormat of a boy and stand up for himself. Most of what he does is direct response to his own boundaries as he is STILL learning how to set them.

That said, he did once break someone's leg and dispose of them on said someone's ex boyfriend's doorstep with a boxed homemade cheesecake that said Happy Birthday on it; it was because those two were Yet Again pining for each other but were not doing Anything about it, and it was driving him nuts. He's still the village bastard because of this, and, even if it was a really convoluted plan to get those two back together, it wasn't exactly something a Normal and Sane man would do.

He also has a BLATANT disrespect for personal space with others most of the time, at least in terms of their homes. He has often and frequently, Uninvited, portalled into other people's homes. It has caused more than one fight, and once he agrees to not coming over unless he has asked permission or invited, he usually stops coming altogether because to him, it's no longer "fun."

I know, I know, you may be asking, why do you love this objectively terrible man, Observatory. Well, you see. I find him very funny. YES I know I write him but my very small rp group all agree sometimes the muse writes themselves and in the case of Umbra, he does so often and with wild abandon. He got jealous of a set of weights his husband put on his back and frisbee'd them into the wall so he could perch there like he usually does instead. He nearly threw a vampire off a yacht into a river because they were eyeing him a little too much. He regularly makes Nyquil Chicken and gives it to unsuspecting fools who, for some reason, keep forgetting he loves giving people Nyquil Chicken. Do you see why he's hilarious to me.

ALSO, while yes he is a terrible person with zero (well, One, but he's his sister-in-law's husband's brother so. Distant-ish family?) friends outside of direct family by marriage, if you DO manage to earn his loyalty, he is actually not just a Better person to you, but he is a Kind and Caring and VICIOUSLY protective person. He seeks out bountiful physical contact and often offers food and company, he will help you with everything in his power (which is a lot, because yeah, he has kinda ended up overwhelmingly overpowered because of RP events) when you need it. He doesn't like to use his healing magic anymore, it feels too much like an echo of the doormat boy he used to be, but if he cares, Actually cares about you, he will offer it, and it will mean the World.

Unfortunately because of how complex he's become over the years, he's nearly impossible to RP with new people because he has such Thick history and I, an autistic person and his creator, can't help myself and will talk about him nonstop whenever possible.

tl;dr He's an awful person but he makes me laugh and that's the most important thing.

[adamwatchesmovies]

Await Further Instructions (2018)

Unfortunately, Await Further Instructions was released in 2018 when its message was neither shocking nor revolutionary and certain elements of its horror now have unintended meanings. It means you’ve almost certainly seen a better version of this story elsewhere. Despite this, its effectiveness while it plays is hard to deny.

After distancing himself from his family for three years, Nick (Sam Gittins) agrees to bring his girlfriend Annji (Neerja Naik) over for Christmas dinner. Things do not go well. The couple decide to leave the next morning but find that a barrier now encircles the house. No one can leave, the internet is down and their telephones cannot send or receive calls. Suddenly, a message from the authorities appears on the television. Though father Tony (Grant Masters), mother Beth (Abigail Cruttenden), Nick’s sister Kate (Holly Weston), her husband Scott (Kris Saddler) and Grandad David Bradley) insist on following the TV’s instructions, Nick and Annji are unsure whoever is sending them has good intentions.

Imagine bringing your significant other to meet your family for the first time and having your worst fears confirmed: they’re still narrow-minded, stupid and racially biased. Christmas is ruined. It goes from bad to worse when you realize you can't leave. In this film, it's not a snowstorm keeping everyone inside. It's something else. Stuck in the house with everyone already on edge, resentment and paranoia build and are amplified by the mysterious text that appears on the TV. Now, our protagonists are stuck in a mental asylum. Everyone else is crazy but them. Is the right choice to pretend like they're one of them or try to talk some sense into everyone else? What this movie does right is put you in the shoes of Nick and Annji. The racism Annji faces is obvious but it’s not ham-fisted. It’s a mispronounced name from mom, an assumption from dad or Kate and side comments from Grandad that tell you this is a bad place to be. You don’t like Nick’s family. Even mom, who has a chance of changing her ways, is such a doormat that you resent her even more than Tony, who is trying to be this big man by forcing everyone to follow the TV’s orders. His insistence on being a leader while taking orders from someone who - as far as Nick, Annji and we can tell - has no real authority and no proven good intentions towards the family would be hilarious if it weren’t so frightening. Every time the message on the television changes, “Await Further Instructions” tightens its grip around your throat.

You’ll be scared. You'll sweat. The picture’s message about not following orders blindly is good… but this is also where things get muddled. We never - not for a second - believe whoever is sending messages through the TV is the government. There’s something sinister going on. What that is, I can’t say without giving too much away. Ultimately, the movie is about holding onto your beliefs even when authorities (in this case, the television or the "government" sending messages through the TV) tell you to do something you know is wrong. To some viewers, that might include not vaccinating your children, which is an unfortunate message. As for the TV thing? It’s a little too late for that. For this kind of message to work in the 2010s, it needed to be people’s cell phones giving them the instructions, or QAnon conspiracy-theory loonies feeding bad info. Things get even wobblier when our questions are finally answered. Not all of it holds up. It doesn’t mean it isn’t chilling but this needed another pass through the keyboard. It’s almost as if writer Gavin Williams didn’t know what to do with the ending until it came time to submit it to the studio.

A story's flaws are always amplified when they come in during a movie’s last act and unfortunately, Await Further Instructions drops the ball at the worst time possible. Is it enough to toss away the whole thing? I don’t think so. The tension built up as the family turns on each other, the discomfort Annji and Nick feel, the fear as the trickle of revelations come in are all expertly done. I don’t expect anyone who sees Await Further Instructions to be compelled to watch it more than once or call it a favorite. That’s ok. (November 27, 2020)

[bellysoupset]

this question is for the whole group ; what’s your favourite thing about your partner? also, what’s the thing they do that makes you want to pull your hair out? (this ask may or may not be inspired by the recent argument fics) 🍄

Hi 🍄, how are you?

Okay I'm going to try and keep this short and for this sake I'll try not to go TOO deep <- lying like a liar

Wendy: She loves how happy and open he is. Here's a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, who's almost always smiling and even when he's not, he makes no effort to play sullen and mysterious. She really likes not having play guessing game with Vin. Vince is a bit of a doormat though and it drives her crazy. She's the one always telling him to assert himself and he's like 🥺 but what if people get sad I said no. | Lighter version: LOVES that man's arms and tummy. Hates the fact he's always leaving his clothes around.

Jonah: Leo's secret personality - aka his bitchy side that only Jon gets to see - is something Jonah looooves. He takes immense pleasure seeing Leo flip flop like day and night between the sweetness that he truly is and the huge bitch that only Jon gets to see. He doesn't love how Leo shuts down, though. He'd rather face yelling and tears than Leo shutting him out and when that happens it drives Jon crazy. | Lighter version: He's obsessed with Leo's hair. Hates Leo inability to close a fucking door.

Bella: Lucas cares so much. About everything and everyone, not just the people he considers his family. He'll go out of his way to help anyone and this is truly what made her fall for him. Hates when his competitive streak gets the best of him, especially when it turns against him. Like when he's bulking and can't quit it even if it's hurting him, because he has to win. When he picks a fight and won't drop it. | Lighter version: She's a thighs woman through and through. Lucas has more hickeys there than anywhere else. If he clogs their toilet again she's going to tear him to pieces.

Leo: Jonah acts on his feelings. He's not the type of declare pretty words, at all, but acts of service are his love language. He'll stay up nights because of his patients, he'll pick fights for Leo, he'll put up with anything. Leo really loves how easily Jonah translates to him. Hates how stubborn Jonah can get. Because Leo reads him so easily, it's terribly frustrating when he knows Jon wants to do something but won't because he's proud. | Lighter version: Jon inherited his mom's model features - sharp jaw, beautiful chin, sparkly hazel eyes, cheek bones, long arms and legs. Leo truly thinks he's the hottest dude he's ever come across. Now if Jonah could STOP attracting men and women like flies, Leo would be happy.

Lucas: Bella is the most hardworking person he knows. She's won't give up, if she sets her mind to something it doesn't matter how shit she is at it at first, she WILL excel in it. Lucas adores this fire in her, he'll happily bend over backwards to help her achieve whatever. He hates how stubborn she is. It's the same flaw he has, but in particular when it comes to Bella's health. He's an over worrier about health so seeing Bell give that little crap about her own health makes him angry. | Lighter version: Error 404 she's the hottest woman ever. Sorry. He adores her laughter, it's giggly and girly and doesn't match her at all. Hates the fact Bella thinks she's Dr. Pimple Popper Jr and will chase him around to pop any pimple she sees. Put those claws away.

Vince: Adores the duality between Wendy taking 0 shit from people, but being a cupcake in the form of a woman. He's always liked sweet girls, but it always ended up badly for Vince because they also were too lenient and meshed with his own doormat tendencies... The relationship fizzled out and died. Wendy is not like that. She's a flower of a girl, but she'll die on her hills and Vince respects this more than anything. He doesn't love how insecure Wendy can be and how she refuses to talk it out. If he's super open, Wendy is super private and it drives him crazy. | Lighter version: DIMPLES. Cheek dimples, ass dimples, she's like a squish toy and Vince WILL chew on her. Hates how she'll spend 200 bucks in a mascara but not in something she actually needs like tires for her car. Please be practical Wendy.

[scramble-crossing]

your oc is so fucking cool! divorced to minaman i'm guessing? i LOVE the noise form, that'sso clever! the idea of having a tiny lizzer that he has to hide in a big illusion, that's such a clever + fun idea. also, gecko is a cute asf noise form. the fighting using sigils is SO cool btw, i've done a lot with the idea of sigils myself but the whole concept of tearing out pages to fight is awesome. i love her flaws a lot too btw, most people end up not having ocs with enough flaws

also based as fuck being a union leader. the R.E.A.P.E.R. acronym made me laugh out loud, but man, unions are so underrated. good for them!

i would read stuff about him. also her design is cute! i love the implication that they were strangled to death (?) or are those just tattoos/? i wish that the twewy designs had implication sof how they died somehwere on them

do you actually want a lore dump about my oc? i will gladly give it if you want it, just meant that i don't want to sit here going "and now i will infodump about a topic that isn't actually wanted" (no harm if you don't want to btw) otherwise i will send another ask with the oc info! not gonna lie i don't do much with my ocs but i basically turned several canonical characters into ocs with how much i expanded on them lol. but i do have an oc that i can tell you about :)! i just spend more time expanding on the canon characters LOL

Aw jeez ;-; you're too kind!!

Um. Yeah. Minaman divorce 😔 Long story short, they're childhood friends who had a difficult falling out at the end of high school and reunited in the Reaper's Game. Sho is just as vicious and self-centered as he is in canon, and Fable's swept along in his undertow, blaming himself for Sho's actions and feeling a sense of responsibility, as his oldest friend, to put a stop to him. Sho takes this "betrayal" bitterly. He doesn't understand why Fable can't trust him to make things right again, once he's Composer, and everything that's wrong, he can fix. He just needs her to stay out of his way. He will make her if he has to.

I totally agree with you that'd it be cool if twewy designs implied how some characters died! But actually, Fable received their neck scars after they died :)))

Anyways I'm really glad you like the Noise form and the sigil fighting!! The Noise form is kinda close to Megumi's but I'm attached to itty bitty lizard...everyone else got these cool big cat forms and even Higashizawa's sheep Noise form is intimidating, then you've got this little gecko thing that can fit in the palm of your hand. Made to be held gently. Like hotdog.

And yeah I don't think anyone in the Reaper's Game is a very uh. Functioning individual (except maybe Kariya idk) so it's fun to come up with a character's fatal flaws! Fable is a self-depricating doormat who blames themself for things far beyond their control and clings to strict rules of reason to make sense of an unreasonable world and it pairs really well (or really poorly depending on how you see it) with Mina's unpredictable, domineering personally, especially in NEO once they've grown a bit and Mina has to deal with someone who, even in their best of days, really enabled him and let him get away with anything finally put their foot down and tell him to stop being such an insufferable jackass. Wrangling Support Reapers for three years will do that to a person. They're a funny crowd.

Anyways (again) I would totally love to hear about your oc! I haven't seen too many twewy ocs before and I think it's a series that's ripe for making original characters, so I'm really curious to see the kinds of things that other people have come up with :]

[hearties-circus]

Silly little notes and proper conflict lore underneath v

[Rosa knows he hates himself, refuses to acknowledge he hates walt for the same reason.

Walt does not acknowledge that they hate themself, the reasons they hate Rosa are just really familiar for no reason]

[The blus are prickly dicks who don't like eachother so they grab their food and go on their merry way]

[Man... what if their sister died and that made her start acting really reckless and that's how she died :(]

[I think if there's ever a chip or a hole in the helmet it's just like blinding light that's visible from it]

[Rosa and Walt are like dogs trying to fight their reflections, it's just that they hate eachother for being their reflection in the first place, don't realise this, and are fully capable of making eachother dead.

Also just in case the whole 'trying to kill themselves through the other' thing wasn't clear enough, Walt does sometimes call Rosa their "noose"

Rosa talks to Milk about the conflict sometimes, Milk can't help but be biased and resent Walt a little but he's also much more sensible than Rosa and knows full well that Rosa's complaints about Walt sound alot like when he's dealing with his own self esteem issues, Rosa even mixes up 'I' and 'they' when talking about Walt. He won't acknowledge that though.

Walt also occasionally confides in Faye, who, being friends with Walt And Rosa, is really in a position. It doesn't make them feel any better or realise anything about Rosa and themself, it just seems like Faye is defending him, which she kind of is. It kills them both inside a little bit.

Milk & Faye feel responsible for the conflict and the effect it has. Which is sort of fair, the conflict did get worse when Axel and Faye left on their excursion because one of the mediators was gone.]

[Walt and Rosa both have very different amounts of outward anger despite being just as angry as eachother. Rosa is a prick who constantly gets small bits of anger out at people who don't deserve it, while Walt bottles everything up and is a bit of a doormat honestly.

Because of this in arguments Rosa doesn't get super mad, he doesn't have this backup of anger (even if it does replenished fast) to tap into. Walt, however, has a floods worth of anger in there and a very brittle dam, you get them angry enough and they explode. It sucks because Rosa would be fine with an argument but has significant trauma surrounding being yelled at and blamed and being hit for it and even if its unintentional Walt blowing up like that is Very reminiscent and puts Rosa on the offensive and aggressive.

Even their fights don't make them feel better, Walt is the stronger one physically so Rosa gets banged up worse which reminds Walt of when they used to fight their bullies and get in trouble for doing more damage and getting nothing done about the bully, and makes Rosa feel like he's still weak and needs to prove himself again so he does. Rosa gets bruised all over and Walt gets a broken windpipe.

Both are pretty willing to get dirty and personal with their fights but they have the same issues so they insult eachother and feel the sting of their own bad memories which only makes things escalate further and faster.]

[They want to kill eachother so bad </3 literally like cats trying to fight their reflections, you're just gonna hurt yourselves pals.

Funnily enough their pets get along, they're pretty civil.

They DO try to kill eachother btw. They pull themselves out to the middle of the forest and decide to thunderdome it, to end it finally. They get pretty close too, I think one gets so exhausted and gives up, they don't care anymore it hurts too much they just want everything to end. And the other considers it, it's a free kill but in their deliberation the ache and tiredness seeps into their bones, into their heart and they just want it to end too. (I think they kind of acknowledge that killing the other would be a stand-in for killing themselves) And you know what. They... don't want to. They don't want to kill themself, they just want it to stop. I think they both sort of collapse, from the pain of their fight and the rush of emotions and whether intentionally or not they do end up holding eachother.

This is a major turning point in their relationship but they're still fucked up about eachother afterwards. They have no clue how to even Begin breaching this subject. So they don't really but they do try to be nicer, by avoiding eachother at first. Sometimes they'll bump into eachother on their break and just apologise.]

[madillhethen]

Top 5 dog breeds? And top 5 fate characters? Bonus points for saying why 👀

Hmmm, I think when I was a kid I had an actual list but now I don’t think I do so this might be a bit random.

0. Selene and Lucina have to have their own category because they’re my dogs and everyone needs to know how much I love them :P

1. Dalmatians!

2. Corgis

3. Scottish Terriers

4. Golden Retriever

5. Pit bulls

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really had to think for this one, I’m excluding servants for the most part unless they reach above human characters. There are just too many to go through so I’m just going to name the characters I love on the top of my head. Fate’s a big universe anyways.

1. EMIYA: this by all means is no surprise (tumblr even called my blog a heroic spirit Emiya blog because of how much I tag) anyways, what can I not say about this man? He’s such a great character. I could write an essay on him but anyways, shortening it up, I love Emiya for the fact that he’s so thoughtfully altruistic, I know that part of this stems from his crippling and unhealthy self-worth but he took his weakness and made it a strength. He became a nameless entity that fought for others, a hero, and a lot of people have told me it’s stupid but when you get down to it, think about the people going through those wars, imagine just needing someone, anyone to save you, to show some kindness or another and it’s just…this man who has nothing to do with your war, your fight, but he’s literally there not for recognition or reward, but just because he wants to see people smile. He went through hell, and saw a hero, and all he wanted was to replicate that because he understood those feelings. So empathetic, a heart to big for the world, yet not a doormat, Emiya is graceful, cool, a figure of guidance, beautiful and a dork (he’s handsome as hell as a bonus 👀).

The fact that his own self-worth is so detrimental to him, is also what I love, as odd as that sounds. He never hated humanity, he didn’t curse the people who killed him, he never blamed his father, Saber or anyone, he doesn’t even think about destroying the worlds (I know that’s impossible but I’m just throwing that out there) instead he still is thinking of others, the only reason he hates himself so much is because he thinks he’s a murderer. He’s fair, and yeah, childish, but he’s not a sore loser, you have to give him a shot before you get to insult him, he can be a dick but it’s not in arrogance or harm, he’s pointing out your flaws because he knows you can fix them. You have that power, and if no one else is going to say it, he will because he wants you to be better.

Bonus because he can cook and clean.

2. Illyasviel von Einzbern: sweet and innocent? Check. Cute? Check. Little devil murder child? Check (x10 for all those bad ends lol). Illya is probably one of my favorite characters, partly because of nostalgia reasons. Back when I was a kid (younger), I thought FSN was off limits and winded up reading Prisma (jokes on me, that was not a kid version of Fate), but anyways I read OG Illya’s profile along with the manga of Prisma. I didn’t really find Prisma Illya...compelling at all but I always loved her design. Sweet, child-like innocence but a wise and perceptive disposition, Illya just wants a family--girl has never known anything ordinary. On top of the fact, her motivations for the entire Grail War doesn’t stem from the old Einzbern or three families’ original wish. She don’t care about any of that. She steered away from that long ago. 

This is personal, but at the same time, she wasn’t blinded by her own hatred and revenge (let’s not include the bad ends, okay) to not give Shirou a chance. And we see in Heaven’s Feel, she knew her brother, she knew how he was and she chose to sacrifice herself so that he could live. She came to kill him but winded up being the reason he lives. I just really love her.

3. Rin Tohsaka: I’m going to be honest, I don’t know how people can not like Rin. She’s literally perfect. Sporty, academics, pretty, elegant, really put together for the most part and a great magus but more than that, she’s just an ordinary girl trying to balance the world, her world, without any guidance. She’s literally living between two worlds: her long heritage of magi blood, and the parts of her that just is a normal girl who wants a family, wants to not be alone. She has a heart of gold, and although not as altruistic as Emiya/Shirou, she still has the idea that its the strong’s duty to protect the weak and yet at the same time, she never forsakes her individualism. 

Archer told Rin that people who don’t regret shine bright, and I agree. Rin has the attitude that she will choose a path, but never will she look back and regret that decision because each and every one of those decisions had reasons, yet what I love of her is that she doesn’t have a careless attitude, she struggles to come up with the decisions and that’s so very human. It’s not like Cu who takes things as it is, and is proud of whatever life he has, it’s similar but not the same, Rin’s feels...just so much more relatable, and I love her for that. 

4. Shirou Emiya: poor boy needs a hug. It’s a little similar to my reasons for Archer, but I don’t see these two as the same. I treat them somewhat similar but not the same (because they’re not. They’re both Shirou Emiya, but they’re not the same but they are. It’s not confusing at all. Don’t worry about it.) Except unlike Archer, Shirou has a bit of a gullible side that’s adorable and hilarious, but the boy is so good natured that...sadly he is a bit of a doormat. He’s determined, brave, suicidal, considerate and strong-willed, it’s hard for me to imagine anyone reading FSN and not finding themselves loving Shirou. His twisted sense of self and idealistic dream is both admirable and yet so sad. 

I love him especially in UBW because he sees the end result, he’s told the problems of his origins and yet he decides that he doesn’t care if the dream is fake. If the path will lead to hell because helping people can’t be wrong. And he’s right, it’s not wrong to help others. Persevering in a path for others’ pain is tolling, yet someone who can do it is absolutely aspiring.

5. Romani Archaman: he is incredibly relatable on so many levels (I actually find EMIYA more relatable to myself personally). He panics, he doesn’t know what he’s doing but he tries. He tries his best. A man who only wished to be human because he couldn’t be one spent the time of his human life dedicating it in the service of others, became a doctor to help others, all while trying to prevent the world’s end. That’s so admirable. He’s funny and kind, and goes out of his way for his people. I love Romani also for treating people fairly and equally, whenever the conversation was with Mash or a servant, it never felt like he was isolating them, he wasn’t saying ‘your a servant etc etc. (as we see with a different director ahem) it felt somehow like he was just talking to other people. And even in his confrontation with Goetia, he didn’t blame Goetia, didn’t curse him, he understood the difference in them and I don’t know, he was an ordinary man, just a doctor, but he was a hero (and I freaking miss him...)

[helenas-crashed-car]

i lied im oc posting now (on my puter): akira karasuno

i have ocs o_o!!! i have an entire oc world except it's not an oc world it's set on earth but I basically home-brewed the rest. I'm gonna talk about akira now!

akira benjamin karasuno is the main protag of my first comic idea part and of my podcast idea. he's 19, japanese-american, and has autism. he's transmasc and panromantic asexual! he's one of my faves. he's kind of silly. more under the cut.

i originally based him off of the punk subculture for his fashion morals and music taste, but I think his fashion strays closer to the emo subculture. his music taste is definitely very emo. I'm not talking about it rn. his ideals, though, are very punk still.

akira is sweet. he's one of the only characters I can think of in my comic who is capable of biting off a man's fingers yet also picking up two stray cats off the street because 'they needed a home.' he has suuuch a big heart. intrinsically in his little soul, his goal isn't money or fame, it's that no one goes through the pain of loneliness and paranoia that he went through as a child. i don't know if he has a savior complex but since he had almost no control of his home life during his childhood, he tries to use what control he has of his current life to help others.

despite his intrinsically sweet nature, akira is also very, very paranoid. strangers are probably one of his least favorite things he has to deal with, but alas, he has a job. while naturally, he is extroverted and kind, he used isolation as a coping mechanism for his depression and he already has bad anxiety, which has left him wary of people. It's almost paradoxical, his distaste for interaction and his need to help people. perhaps it is. most of the time, his urge to stay in his comfort zone and stay isolated from others wins out against his urge to help others, and that just fuels his cycle of self-loathing.

another thing about him is that with the few friends and people he cares about that he has, he tries his hardest to keep them around. he isn't as clingy as his sister is, but he easily ends up used as a doormat by people who don't really care about him. because of his childhood isolation and neurodivergency inter-personal relationships are very hard for him to navigate so he tends to cling to those who accept him... even if those people aren't the best.

one of the reasons he's so keen on isolating himself and why he values the few friendships he has so much is because of the town he grew up in. he grew up in a small north Californian beach town where he was regularly demonized and teased by peers for his asian heritage, transgender identity and neurodivergency. he found it much easier to go about his days if he simply didn't interact with people in public and stayed inside all day, caring for his sister and playing video games. this naturally pushed away both people who would want to tease him, and people who actually wanted to be his friend. some weeks in the summer, if his family didn't force him to go outside, the only people he'd be interacting with in person would be his sister and father. his mother died when he was ten.

alas! he isn't a static character and doesn't remain and asocial weirdo forever. over the plot of the comic, his arc is centered around responsibility. he isn't an irresponsible person, but because of his desire for control, he tends to take too many things and give himself too much work, as a way to prove himself. he makes himself useful so the people he hangs around keep him around; he doesn't see his personality as something people would enjoy him for. another thing he learns is how he doesn't have to just accept the blame for things he didn't do, which he did a lot as a kid to avoid conflict. god, I love writing character arcs.

another part of him is that he looooooves his family. dom toretto who. well, besides his dad. his only immediate family who he likes is his sister (technically his half-sister), but because of his childhood he is very attached to his sister, who's only a year younger than him. they used to be inseparable before akira left pelican bay (his hometown) at 18 and moved to san maria. (those two towns are fictional!)

away from the deeper and darker stuff. akira loves sweets and cats! one of his favorite foods is chocolate chip cookies, and his mother's apple pie. he loves video games as well, and while he plays a lot of cozy games like acnh or sdv, he also enjoys roguelikes like hades. he hates getting aphrodite boons. he loves listening to his music at loud volumes! way too loud. for someone who blasts mcr, he has pretty good hearing. he is fluent in English and knows a couple of phrases in Japanese. his father is an immigrant from japan and his mother was a texan native. he hates bell peppers. his sister is goth. his great grand uncle is kind of hot ngl sad that ken died at 21

i think this is gonna be part 1 of me discussing akira. I haven't fully discussed his backstory plus some story elements. also I like to akira post teehee

[fanfiction-inc]

“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis. 

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased. 

He needed a reality check. 

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.” 

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?” 

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?” 

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?” 

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.” 

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.” 

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win. 

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.” 

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money. 

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!” 

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready. 

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.” 

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?” 

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John  Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?” 

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?” 

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked. 

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate. 

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through. 

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two. 

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up. 

1st: (First initial). (Last name) 

1st: H. Zemo 

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before. 

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.” 

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round. 

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?” 

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone. 

“Oui.” 

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name). 

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you. 

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything. 

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth. 

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress. 

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego. 

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind. 

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce​

[orenjineki]

Dabi the house-elf

Summary:When you don't get your Hogwarts letter at 11, you spam Hogwarts with letters until they get pissed of and send you a human Dabi who thinks he is a house-elf. And he's always naked and hung. Crap.

Warnings: Dub-Con, Dubious Consent, R18, Minors DNI

Notes: I am so sorry but I saw this tiktok by @savs_creates where Dabi is a house-elf and I just couldn't stop myself. https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMerqQ5Dc/

I thank @mangospams who is my greatest inspo when it comes to Yandere Dabi.

You had a house-elf. As a muggle. A house-elf. The size of a grown, human!, man with a sizeable…erm, well size. Not only his frame was decently sized but also his private parts, as you liked to call them in your mind when you happened to accidentally see them from the corner of your eyes when the brown bedsheets you had given the man? elf? once again did a terrible job at covering him.

Which you did not want to see since you were still unsure about his race. To be fair, you were unsure about a lot of things since you turned eleven. Up until your 11th birthday you were convinced that you would get a letter from Hogwarts, be declared a witch and go on a great many adventure with your new, magical friends in a school that was essentially a death trap for children. (They have a forbidden forest with giant spiders, that can and will eat you, unless you raised the og spider because you thought it was a cute pet!). The thought that Hogwarts was not real, merely a product of fiction, did not occur to you. And why would it, since quirks were real, why shouldn't magic be?

And so you waited for your letter, standing on the doormat of your home, looking for owls. But none came. But they had to! And so you waited. And waited. With the interruption of school, food and sleep. But not a single bird, not even a pigeon, dropped a letter with a red wax seal in front on your feet. But you never gave up hope, maybe they just got lost on their way?

You waited so long that you eventually turned twelve. Angry about this unreliability and with a feeling of betrayal, you decided to take matters into your own hands and write them a letter instead, ha! And so you did, every day, complaining about the fact that this magical institute had the audacity to not send you your magical letter! Heck, even an email would have been fine! Your parents tried to stop you at first but since you were somewhat decent at school, they let you keep your paper intense hobby. When you had sent your 6666thletter, way past your 18th birthday, you finally got an answer!

''Dear Ms. …,

We have received your thousands upon thousands of letters, demanding to be announced a witch and allowed into our school. However, we are glad to inform you that you are, through and through, a muggle. Usually we would ignore such profligate attempts at gaining something which you do not deserve but the amount of paper you have wasted for your letters poses a threat to the environment which muggle folk already treat with so much disrespect. Therefore, as a reimbursement, and a desperate attempt to get you to stop writing us, we will send you a human who thinks he is also a magical being without a trace of magic in his veins. In this case it is a human man who got hit with a confundus charm as a child and is convinced that he is a house-elf. When you finish reading this letter, you will find him standing in your kitchen, awaiting your orders.

Sincerely, the secretary of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry.''

Wait, so Hogwarts is real? And you have a house-elf/human now? What? You drop the letter and rush into the kitchen to see a man, with white hair, piercing blue eyes and piercings on…anyway. You couldn't decide what was more confusing about the situation. The fact that he appeared out of nowhere, the fact that large parts of his body were burned or the fact that he was naked. You decided to accept this new version of reality by staring at him incredulously for a good five minutes, in which he did not blink once, staring back at you.

Since he didn't say anything and you started to feel a little drowsy from this… revelation, you decided to end the day early and go to sleep in your one-room apartment. Sadly, your apartment was too small to hide in another room, hoping that he would be gone, only a really weird dream, when you woke up and entered the living room the next morning. Sadly, your living room was also your bedroom and your kitchen and so you could only turn around and stare at the wall incredulously until you fell asleep. The next morning you woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed, since your apartment was always too cold to catch a good night's sleep. But somehow you felt really warm, as if you had shared the bed with another, very warm body.

…

Was that breathing you heard near your ear, right behind you? You turned around in a millisecond and went right back to incredulously staring at your house-elf-human. Holy shit, he was still there. And naked. And now he spoke, making it even harder to ignore his existence. ''Is master mad at Dabi? Should Dabi burn himself as punishment?'' He raised a hand and a very hot and very scary looking blue flame emerged from it. Great, so you had a crazy human who was convinced to be a house-elf with a fire quirk in your very small and very expensive apartment. Just great. You decided to pretend this was real. Maybe if you went along with it, he would be revealed to be a figment of your imagination and someone would send you to a mental hospital where live might be a bit more normal than this. ''N…n…no, please don't! I'm just confused, it's fine, you did nothing wrong.''

And so you had a human house-elf. You tried really hard to convince him that he wasn't an elf, but his believe in his magicalness was as unyielding as 11 year old you's. You decided to just treat him like a really confused roommate. Very, very confused. He kept standing or laying as close to you as possible, staring at you so hard you worried he would set you ablaze with his eyes. Those eyes…

They were always on you. If it wasn't such a weird situation, he might have been your type, though more ''normal'' in his speech patterns preferably. The scars didn't look ugly, just saddening when you wondered about the pain his quirk must have caught him. In order to give him and you more privacy, you gave him an old brown bedsheet as clothing since he refused anything that was new and without holes. He was actually quite helpful around the household, watching you doing daily chores and picking them up immediately the next day until all you had left to do yourself was work and grocery shopping.

He did however always manage to make you slightly uncomfortable with the way he would stare at you whenever he had nothing to do but you had to write a paper or watch a cat video. And he was absolutely horrible when he interacted with other people, other men to be exact. One time, when you forgot to tell him to hide under the blanket when the doorbell rang, the delivery man had been visible from the kitchen unit and he stared at him, an eerie smile on his face, and a blue flame in one hand. You decided to push the delivery man out of his view, grabbed the package and slammed the door shut. After that you had a serious discussion about ''politeness'' with Dabi and he just kept insisting that ''Master doesn't need anyone else, only Dabi''.

You tried to talk him out of this worldview, but every time you even remotely disagreed with him, the room suddenly got very hot and smoke poured out of his ears and you decided to drop it. Maybe you should get a post office box instead.

From that day on everything seemed mostly fine, until you came home from work, very exhausted, with a sore neck. You yawned a lot more than usual when you tapped away on your phone and stretched your arms and moved your head around in a desperate attempt to ease the pain. Suddenly, two very warm hands found their way on your shoulders and a very hard and apparently large cock pressed into you from behind.

You gasped in shock, your breath stopping. Soft, white hair tickled your neck when your ''house-elf'' whispered into your ear: ''Does master need help relaxing? Dabi saw some of those massage videos master always watches at night on her phone. The humans in the videos look very calm after the massage.''

Your eyes widened in realization and horror, your ''house-elf'' had found your browser history. Great…

You tried to wriggle free from his hold, but only managed to rub your ass into his hard, and pierced, member, making the ''house-elf'' groan softly. The deep noise made your legs quiver and pulled a pathetic whimper from your lips. To your own shame, the most recent ''massage video'' you saw came to your mind and you wondered if he would really go this far. Before you could form another coherent thought, he let go of you to grab a glass of coconut oil from the fridge, melting it's content in his hands.

Then, his oily hands wandered, one under your shirt to softly massage your left nipple and make you whimper, the other under your waistband, inside your panties, to softly rub at your clit. Apparently, he had seen one of the more ''romantic'' videos, because you also felt his lips press soft kisses all over your neck and collarbone. Maybe he was really a magical creature, since the way he played with your admittedly very single body wiped all coherent thought from your mind. He kept rubbing and rubbing your clit until you came with a very embarrassing, very high-pitched moan.

''Don't worry master, Dabi will make you feel even better''. Before you could really grasp what he meant, something warm, hard and big was slowly pressed into your now soaked pussy. An even bigger, even more pathetic whimper left your lips. At your very audible reaction to his actions your ''house-elf'' stilled inside you once he bottomed out and laid his chin on your shoulder, looking at you with the widest eyes you ever saw on him. ''Is Master in pain?''.

You shook your head, bit down on your lip, and realized that you desperately needed him to pound you against the kitchen counter. ''I'm…I'm fine, please just move''. The desperation was very audible in your voice and the look of concern disappeared from Dabi's face. Instead, he licked your ear and whispered:'' Only if you Master admits that master belongs to Dabi''.

''W…what?!''

''Say it or Dabi will burn the next man that tries to sneak into master's home with a package.''

''O..ok, whatever. Master belongs to Dabi''.

The reaction where a dark chuckle and a kiss to your ear before he pulled out of you completely to thrust back in. When you didn't protest and your moans only grew in volume, his hands wandered and he started to squeeze each breast with a very large and warm hand. For the second time that night you wondered whether he actually was magical, since this felt like a very ''magical'' experience. Definitely fantastic with the way the various piercings battered into your g-spot and your clit, making you moan and whine just as loud as the women in your ''massage videos''. When Dabi saw your head fall back on his shoulder and your tongue roll out, he decided to make sure that everyone could see you were his and bit down on your neck, hard. You yowled out in pain but he compensated for it by rubbing your clit and thrusting so hard that you came on his cock half a minute later. The sensation of your walls squeezing him tightly and your cute whines also pushed him over the edge and you could feel his warm seed trickle out of you once he slowly retreated.

The house-human picked you up and held you bridal style in his arms before you could collapse. You still groaned softly from the overstimulation and he carried you to your very small shared bed. After carefully tucking you into bed and pulling you into his naked chest, he softly pushed your hair out of your face and gave you a number of soft kisses all over you face, on your nose, cheeks and mouth.

Before you managed to fall asleep, completely exhausted, you could hear him whisper into your hair after kissing your head:

''Now Master is Dabi's mate. I love you master, but if I ever see another man at the door I will turn him into a pile of ash''.

[constantlyunlightening]

Work, work, work

Day 15: Cockwarming

Warnings/Other Kinks: Anxiety/Depression implications and mentions (Doppo is just like thattt), Doppo kinda snaps at the end, office sex/sex at work, dubcon (there's not explicit consent in this so I'm going to put it just in case but the reader and doppo are in a relationship and I meant for this situation to be consensual, but Doppo's anxiety in this situation made it seem kind of sus)

I have nothing but Hypmic on the brain. I love feral screaming Doppo. Would highly recommend listening to him belly scream here. :D I really do want the best for this boy tho. I love him so muchhhh.

Disclaimer: 18+ years and older to read. All characters in this work are 20 years or older. This is a fictional depiction of a relationship and is not meant to be mimicked in real life. I do not condone cockwaming your partner in their place of work irl.

It was always work, work, work with him. Well, work and rapping but Doppo hardly ever talked about his Matenro. It was always about his balding asshole of a boss, his terrible coworkers and work, work, work.

You knew he was a workaholic. You knew that when you fell in love with the guy. But geez. Time for him to learn that self care was a priority.

You had stormed to his office after having spent two hours - past the time he was supposed to get off - waiting for him at home. This overtime was bullshit. The man worked himself to the bone. And he didn't know how to say no. You worried about him! It was the reason why you marched right over to the cubicle. The place was deserted, all except for poor Doppo, sitting at his desk pinching the bridge of his nose and surrounded by paperwork.

"What the hell is all this?" You asked as you came up behind him and you almost felt bad watching as the man let out a shout, jumping out of his seat and scrambling like a frightened rabbit. A few of the papers he had on his desk got caught up in his whirlwind and dusted around the room - a fact you assumed Doppo would be disgruntled about later, but he looked far too nervous right now as he took labored breaths and let wide eyes take in your form.

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

".... You're being worked too hard if the sound of your girlfriend's voice is enough to panic you," you quipped back, ignoring his question for now as you bent over to try to help organize some of the scattered documents that had fallen to the floor. Let him have the time to bring his breathing back to normal. You were mainly pissed at his job for overworking him - not so much him. Didn't need to go give him a heart attack. "You're here late again. I was checking in on you." A pile of paperwork stacked against your chest, you moved over closer to him to set it down on the desk and took your time eyeing the assortment of work he had lying around. This couldn't all be his. Some of them must be pawning off their work, and Doppo just so happened to be the biggest doormat around. A sigh heaved from your lips, and you didn't miss the way Doppo shuddered. How could you? The man tensed up like he was being shot by lightening. "Looks like it was a good thing I did too. This work would have kept you here all night if someone didn't come to stop you."

"I'm sorry!" You weren't surprised but the volume of his apology made you jump and as he started to spew off more and more apologies, you quickly grabbed him by the tie and yanked him in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You weren't trying to invalidate his feelings by cutting him off, but there was no reason for him to be panicking like he was. And luckily, kisses from you always seemed to soothe him - at least as soothed as someone like Doppo could be.

"Baby," you purred gently, pulling your lips from his and watching the way his cheeks lit up with a dusting of pink. Always so stressed, this one. But the face he made after you kissed him made your heart flutter. Dumbfounded but he still managed to swoon in subtle ways - those aquamarine eyes zoomed in on you like you were treasure. The simple strokes you gave to his hair made him melt - the tension zapped out of his shoulders and he almost started to slump into you. "You don't have to say sorry. But it's time to go home now. No more work."

That cute daze in his expression only lasted a moment more before it was like all that anxious energy plowed right back into him. The word 'work' was enough to flip a switch with him. "That's not right! I have a whole ton of it!" His arm extended outward, waving at the stacks piled high. "I'm sorry but I have more work to do. I'll finish as soon as I can but - I gotta do this or my crazy boss will pile even more work on me! Or I'll lose my job or worse I-ll-"

"Doppo!" You cut him off and tried to calm him down. It worked to some extent but only enough to keep him from screaming or spiraling into one of his crazes. You didn't convince him to stop working though and eventually you had to settle for watching him drown himself in the work in front of him, trying to suppress your groans.

You loved the man. But really?

Playing the waiting game wasn't something you were interested in though. Which is why, after a bit of working, you somehow managed to not only weasel your way into his lap but you also got his cock out of his pants, stroking it just enough to get him riled up as you watched him try not to panic.

"You can't just do that-"

"I just did. Don't worry. The cameras can't see in here. It's fine," you coaxed, letting him stay nervous anyway as you pushed your panties to the side from underneath your skirt causing him to visibly gulp. But he wasn't pushing you off.

"I have to work," he declared, whispers on the verge of being shouts fell from his lips but cut off into a whimper as the head of his dick was suddenly being warmed up by the heat of your body as you slowly sank down onto him - taking him in inch by inch. 

It wasn't until you were fully seated to the hilt, listening to his breath hitch that you gave a tiny huff. "Then work." And your body stilled. No movement other than the flutter and clench of your walls against your hung lover, letting your eyes watch his flustered face. He clearly didn't know what to say and you watched as his gaze flickered around like a chicken with its head cut off - to your face, to his paperwork, to where your bodies were joined and then anywhere but you. Good. Get him riled up. He was panicking but you could feel him twitch inside of you, like he was anticipating for you to move - waiting for it. But you kept your hips locked in place as you leaned in and rested your head on his shoulder. "Work, Doppo. Just giving you some motivation for when you finally get done." Your voice was much to kindly for someone who just pulled somebody's dick out in the middle of a public office. But it managed to keep him from tipping over his brink just yet. Poor thing always got so worked up. Your physical actions may not be helping that necessarily, but your voice always seemed to soothe him over, even if it was only a little at a time. 

"H-how?" You listened to him practically squeak, shifting under you and instantly giving a whine at the slight push against your walls. How was he supposed to work when you were on him like this? How was he supposed to concentrate when you were constricting around him? When you were filling him with molten lava from the bottom up?

With feather light kisses, you trailed a line across his neck, trying to remain still on the cock that was stretching out your insides - forcing the urge to bounce on him like a pogo stick until you both lost even the capability to think of work. You would behave somewhat for now though. Doppo could get his work done. You could get some form of closeness in the meantime. Besides, maybe a good vise grip on him could speed up the process? Or make him say 'fuck it' altogether - hopefully, literally fuck it. "Just work, Doppo. Since it's so important. Ill wait," you cooed, almost as if you were being thoughtful. Too sweet for him to argue and you listened to him give a defeated groan of a sound before he tried to level out his breath and refocus. 

Oh, but that was easier said than done. Doppo had restarted on the paperwork, working around you as your warm body nuzzled into his chest. He usually felt like he was suffocating at work but right now, it felt like your body was trying to strangle the life out of him from somewhere other than the neck. How were you so tight? How come velvety walls were squeezing down on him over and over again without either of you even moving? You were starting to leak out around him, a sticky mess starting to spill out onto his lap slowly - torturous. Maybe you were actually trying to be sweet. Maybe you were actively trying to mess with him. But either way, it was kicking up a bad habit within him. He would reach for another stack, shifting in the chair and causing the tiniest of mewling to escape from your lips. It was a blissful sigh here, a hitched breath there, a tiny hum into his chest and it was going to break him. He was supposed to be focusing but at this rate, he was going to start making mistakes on his work.

You were causing him to silently work himself up. Each climb of his emotions resulted in a string of jitters, and in return had your body clenching even tighter on him. How could you even feel like that? He choked, tugging at his tie to try and gasp for air. You were messing with him. You had to be. You must be mad he wouldn't leave. This was his retribution. To be strangled by your wet cunt over and over without reprieve- without any motion for relief. Well, fuck that. He may love you. But he worked far to hard day in and day out. Pent up didn't even begin to describe it. If you were going to try to rile him up like that, then he would give you riled up because he couldn't take it. Not a second longer. Not with that familiar primal darkness beginning to flare inside him.

His body rocked and you instinctively lifted your head from his chest to peer up at him, the first actual movement he had made since you had sat on him. "Are you okay?"

"O-okay?" He was stuttering his words but unlike his panic from before, this time he sounded angry. It wasn't a tone he took entirely too often. But you knew Doppo. You knew if his buttons were pressed enough, he would snap. He was tea kettle, getting hotter- "how do you except me to be okay-" and hotter "- when your purposely trying to make me-" until he screamed "-loose my fucking mind!?"

You only had enough time to widen your eyes before he flew out of his chair, taking you with him and slamming you onto his desk. The noise he made was positively feral - teetering between a growl and a scream - and without a warning, he was wrecking you, bludgeoning into you with a speed you hadn't even been aware he was capable of. 

"D-D-Doppo!" You were trying to talk but the sudden thrusting was knocking out your capabilities to think. You had been stretched out and horny for a while now but at this pace you couldn't keep up. You were trying to grip at his shoulders for some type of stability. "H-hang on a sec-"

"Hang on?!" He sounded unhinged - a growl ringing in the back of his throat so different from his usual meek - if not panicked - composure. "I've been hanging on! I've been hanging on this whole time! You just had to be on me huh? When I'm at work!" Papers were tossing up into the air around you and you could hear the clatter of the cubicle as he knocked you into the desk over and over. Oh, you couldn't even keep your eyes opening with the way your senses seemed to overload. "All this work - all these damn excuses to pile it onto me - and then you still come in here and give me more work. Too needy? Need my to pound you senseless before I can finish my work? Then that's what I'll do. I'll take you over and over and over again until you're out for days!" He declared, his hands clamping down on your hips and you could already feel the bruises even as the head of his cock shifted up enough to find your sweet spot, leaving you wailing out. "Again and again and again!" He got louder and louder with his sounds, growls and grunts turning into wanton groans and gasps as he split you in two. 

This would teach you not to mess with him at work. Or maybe it would teach you to mess with him more.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 19: Yugi and the Only Neck Accessory He Didn’t Really Want to Wear

Been busy! Hopefully stuff will open up soon as I’m taking a hiatus on a different quarantine project and will be finishing painting the entire roof of my car this week? One can hope. Sanding the rust off the whole top of a car takes a long time it turns out?

Also, fun Yugioh fact, I recently painted a book cover for an author who is older so she’s never seen the show, and she looked at my tumblr, saw my Duke Devlin fanart and was like “That’s him. That’s my main character. OMG. You captured him perfectly!” and I was like “Ma’am that is Duke Devlin, hence the single dice earring on his lobes there, but we can work with this.” and now a spiritual Duke Devlin is on the cover of a Wuxia-style fantasy trilogy on the Vella. Had to give him a top knot and delete the eyeliner for Wuxia reasons but uh, that’s just Duke.

So long story short, fanart can get you work, don’t even worry about posting that stuff online because most people don’t even know it’s fanart anyway and older ladies freakin love it.

Back in Yugioh, the team was doing their best to navigate a map through the woods and they do about as well as they normally do.

And inside Tristan lifted up the floorboards and was like “I found the only way out, this is it, this is the only way.”

And they ended up in something that has a color scheme I would actually associate with a jungle. Finally. We have finally left California (in order to go to another Hell.)

Youknow, when we went to California, we visited Hell, and when we went to India, we also took a stop at the nearest death destination. There’s just so much death on this show and sometimes I forget because there’s been a ghost in our party for so freakin long it’s been normalized.

(read more death imagery under the cut)

Joey freaks out at a flock of crows and reveals in this episode something I never realized about him before.

Like I’m not always the perfect observer as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I love that this is canon for probably only this episode, but I will never forget it for the entirety of this series.

You go on hating birds, Joey.

Bro was like “Maybe it’s a deep cut about Mai Valentine because she’s a harpy lady” but eh...pretty sure we spent like an entire season of Joey telling us that Mai was a good experience? Would be incredibly funny if immediately after all of S4, Joey was like “You know what? Screw Mai, guys.”

So my thoughts...it’s probably just a literal bird experience. Like I had a friend who hated deer because once she went to a petting zoo, got some pellets to feed the deer, but her finger was sticking up, so when the deer came over to nibble on some pellets her finger went up it’s nose by accident. She was so disgusted by this event that was entirely her fault, that she brought up how much she hated deer basically whenever we saw one.

So like...maybe Joey fed a bird wrong at a petting zoo. I can see him getting bit by a parrot because he was too Joey Wheeler.

But now that we’re in a graveyard neighborhood, Pharaoh decides to hop out because there’s a lot of ghosts here and he needs to practice socializing with his peers.

So that’s just a Yugioh monster doing the ostrich dance, right? Like this is a meme from like 2010 but on Yugioh in 2003(4?)

Good to see the Ostrich dance here in the land before Vine.

So they pull out their Pokemon to do some antics, Tea looked like she was about to do something useful, and Yami does a yump across time and space to get her as far away from playing (not)cards as quickly as possible and y’all...sure was a position these animators animated.

Holy crap.

And I was going off about that scene last season where they woke up in the same bed like...

...have these two been together this entire time? Like together together?

They’re like...way more comfortable than you’d figure they’d be considering Yugi nearly passes out every time he gets a hug. But Yami just like....How long has this been going on? As long as Joey’s fear of birds?

Like obviously this show would never cover what the hell Yugi may be thinking about this overreaching move here, because we’re gonna gloss right over that, and just run away up a flight of stairs. No one mentions this ever again. Which is mind blowing for an anime to do. I think in most anime I watch, the kids would be like “ahh ahhhh I bumped into a booooob!” like it does for I want to say every other episode of My Hero Academia. But in Yugioh, they saw that low hanging fruit and they were like “we expect a higher level of maturity out of our audience. Now here’s a fleet of ostrich dancing tree monsters with faces for crotches.”

They decided to sprint up this flight of stairs, and it enough of a slope to deter the monsters who are only unbalanced weird legs.

I want us to take a moment and admire this background painting. I can’t unsee the rocks that are all the same size, just piled on top of eachother. Did Alexander the Great just plop rocks here--or was the mountain made up of tons of similarly shaped boulders?

Like there’s a lot of nice bg’s in this arc, don’t get me wrong, but this one...I’m just trying to wrap my head around the logic of it.

At the top, they meet a pantheon, that is immediately blocked by this wall, because if this arc had a tagline, it’s “Yugi gets inconvenienced every 4 seconds.”

Bro was like “Clearly they would have pushed it over if Tea wasn’t slacking off” and like...she is actually. Look at her. Only used one hand? Slacker.

Joey was disappointed he couldn’t push over a massive wall, and the team decided not to analyze how much Joey Wheeler thinks of his own strength and instead fixate on these statues.

Usually in anthro characters they kinda look birdlike but act human. But what about an anthro that’s just a bird? Like human torso, but can turn his head 180 degrees? Yugioh made me ask this question.

And then Joey was like “wait, there may be a solution that isn’t just to use brute strength!”

Youknow it is a bummer that Kaiba couldn’t witness Joey own a dragon while he himself only has a robot jet dragon. Although, the jet is probably faster, stronger and overall...better than this baby dragon. It would have been great for Kaiba to witness Joey under-utilize this dragon and forget he has it for like huge swatches of the episode.

And then Grandpa pulled some body horror out of nowhere.

Wow.

I mean that is really gross.

I guess Grandpa can’t use Blue eyes, because Kaiba ripped it up, Grandpa can’t use Exodia because Weevil tossed it off a boat, and grandpa can’t use the card that’s just a building because...it’s a building.

So instead Grandpa has a bunch of meat and bones that look like something out of Doom. It’s probably from a more obscure Konami property, but I forget which.

I’ve seen Tristan hold back Joey in this hold, first time it’s been Tea.

So much shipping in this episode, it’s wild.

It’s also wild how low my standards are for what could possibly be shipping when it comes to Yugioh because of how freakin tepid all of these characters are, which as I’ve brought up before, I really don’t mind.

So Yugi decides that because Grandpa was folding his arms like one monster and it made a gem light up or something, to just do the video game thing and use the giant ass statues as clues.

Why was this arc not a video game? Like parts of it really feel like it was meant to be.

So Yugi falls down a hole, where the walls cave in like it’s that dumpster in Star Wars but like...it barely phases him.

Also...Yugi might be able to see in the dark. It’s never been brought up but like...the more I think about it...has Yugi ever struggled to see without the lights on?

After Joey disappoints everyone, he confronts death.

And Pharaoh and Yugi decide to solve the puzzle of “how do I get out of this trap dungeon room” which, honestly, is probably what they’re doing every time they hang out in the brain pyramid.

So they summon their mascot monster, and surprisingly the show decided its ability to fly cannot help them out here.

Kuriboh manages to become enough of a doormat to push Yami up to the stone and they end up in a set of weird cuts that ended in this?

Like seriously it was like flashes of light and then they were just...up here like this.

Hey like...

Alexander the Great, my man...

Were you planning to put that stone in the middle of a exhaust vent hoping someone would touch it? Because there’s no way anyone would rationally have done that. You would need to fly to do it. This is the world’s worst DM.

Like Yugioh pulls a lot of fantasy nonsense but this arc is a lot more like a “it’s a kid’s show, just go with it.” arc than most of them. It’s not a bad vibe, necessarily, it’s just not the vibe I’m used to.

So once I witnessed maybe the most boring conversation I’ve ever witnessed about corn (this was on a twitch stream, by the way, a guy was playing an interesting game, and then a guest came on and started talking about corn and plants for 2 hours) and they would not shut up about how all taxonomy is wrong because there are no such thing as trees and how all animals are labelled incorrectly, and then they started comparing it to like all sorts of mushrooms and phytoplankton as you would if you clearly got a little bit high before dumping your corn knowledge on a twitch stream.

Anyway, after that bizarre experience I suffered so I could learn how to play an obscure video game, I think I can safely say, that while I know everyone here thinks a bird can’t be a dog. If you’re a high biologist: a bird is absolutely a dog. Apparently you can just do that if you’re the most boring biologist alive and no one will argue with you because to do that would involve talking to you. We’ll just say a bird is a dog and no one can fight me or I will talk about the corn book that this guest on this twitch chat was thinking about renting from the library about the different types of corn mutations inherent in freakin Indiana. Therefore, Joey’s fear of birds and dogs is same.

So they use Dark Magician to save them from the statues, and Yugi busts into the pantheon again because they got to open this casket before a time limit that I kind of forgot about, tbh.

And inside the casket, is...this thing!

(enjoy this line on the bottom of the image I don’t feel like fixing it)

And you may say to yourself...it looks like it’s just floating in mid-air, that’s silly, and so I want to introduce you to the next panel where you can see that it is...quite literally...just floating in the air like a video game.

and it just slurps itself onto Yugi before he can be like “nonono.”

Wasn’t there some horror movie where you were stuck in some sort of body brace that slowly tortures you (was that Saw?) This has that vibes. Like man that looks uncomfortable to wear over a jacket and two belts and a collar that is another belt.

That and I...I gotta appreciate that Yugi popped his collar while wearing body armor and chunky necklace. What 00′s fashion appreciation right there.

Bit like...this isn’t breathable, right? Like Yugi’s gonna finally take this thing off and his jacket will just be completely soaked in sweat?

Anyway, that’s it for this post, next week we’ll see if Yugi can walk through a doorway in that thing.

Also, I can’t bring up the ostrich dance without sharing the vines of my generation

[kangaroo-sniper-imagine]

Unintimidating reader who’s a killa killa

-snipers is longer solely because ive had that idea in my head LONG before i got this request-

-also, little gorey so beware-

Medic

Ludwig is almost instantly enamoured with you once he got comfortable with you on base. He finds you sweet and calls you “kleine krankenschwester” (little nurse) whenever you insist on helping him in any way with his workload. You apologize when you bump into inanimate objects and try copying Archimedes’ cooing. You’re a cupcake!

And finally he gets a good eyeful of you on the field. You’re brutal and vicious and smiling the whole time as you bash in an enemy Heavy’s head with a sledgehammer. You take out an enemy Scout’s leg with your weapon and let him try and crawl away from you before you finish him off with a laugh. Ludwig is now convinced you’re his soulmate

Our dear doctor loves tenderness that hides ruthlessness. Loves that you are sweet as a bumble bee to your team but a beast to your opposers. He’s excited at the new possibilities between the two of you know that he knows that he no longer has to hide his own ferocity with his experiments in front of you

Sniper

Hell, Mick isn’t even convinced you should be on the field. You wore brightly colored clothes and skirts and for fuck’s sake you bake, all. The. time. You're like Holly Homemaker, why the hell are you hanging with a bunch of mercenaries? How were you even picked for this job? At your first match, he debated on whether he should watch you from his perch to protect you or do his job. He chose his job, duh. But only for a few matches. When he finally decides to track you,and oooooh boy.

An enemy Spy has his knife in your shoulder, pining you to a wall. Mick doesn’t have a clear shot to take out the spook without getting you too. It’s not fun watching a teammate die, even if they do come back. But right as he was about to shift his attention to the main battle he sees it. You. Pissed the fuck off.

Mick watches with interest as you grab the hand that’s stabbing you with one of your delicate hands as the other grabs the spook’s lapel and drag in the enemy, mouths crushing together. A shot of betrayal and shock freezes the hitman before he sees it. The red running down your chin; the struggle of the enemy Spy trying to thrash himself away from you; the look of manic rage in your eye. When you let the Spy go, Mick can see teeth but no lip and it hits him. You bit off the man’s mouth.

After you swiftly wretch the knife out of your shoulder and into the neck of your opponent, you wipe your mouth, you call for a medic and return to fighting. Mick is now a little scared of you, but now will no longer ever think again that you can’t handle yourself on the field. Never brings up what he saw but will sometimes watch you work now

Heavy

Mikhail already finds hardly anyone intimidating, you are no exception; especially with your short stature and demure demeanor. He worries about you honestly, watching you to make sure none of the other mercs try to take advantage of you because you give off the energy of a doormat. It’s his big brother senses in part, he thinks, also in part of because he has a leetle crush on tiny woman who will listen to him drone on about Sasha and Russian literature well into the night.

You do more protecting than defending during the fighting. You watch the case and keep people away from it as Misha mows down the enemies to keep them away from the intel (and you), so he hasn't had the pleasure of watching you work. But buddy, when he gets it. A chance of happenstance allows Heavy to finally see you operate, lets him see you sit pretty as the enemy steps on your hidden bombs and walk into the line of your automatic tracking weaponry and get mowed down in a hail of bullets as all you do is smile and hold the briefcase. So well covered by your own inventions you don’t even need to be worried as the blood of your enemy splashes up onto your clothes

Misha finds you even MORE endearing now. Man loves intelligent women and if you made all of those killing machines holy fuck, could you mod Sasha?? You’re in your element as you effortlessly kill the opponent, and Misha loves watching your inventions do what they do best (he feels a kinship with your weapons as he too, preforms extreme violence to protect you) (He’s still gonna watch your back at the base tho for sure)

Scout

You were like another Spy, except without all the European flair that Spy had. You were kinda bland, tired looking. Jeremy’s never seen you train or fight; you spent most of all your free time being “tutored” by Spy to become a better Infiltrator, and frankly, Jeremy is more afraid of bread than he is of you (and not just the tumor filled bread). Spy hasd insinuated that you were ready to finally be put on the field with the rest of the mercs for the next match, and now Jeremy is more excited to have another person to show off to rather than to see you in action

But of course, Jeremy fucks up. He’s hiding in an empty building, bleeding from a shot from an enemy Sniper, and staring at the wrong end of a Heavy’s gun, hating the feeling of defeat. The Heavy was rambling on about something but the wound in his side had more of Scout’s attention; that is, until, a figure slowly, silently descended from the rafters. It was you, dressed head to toe in black save for a sliver of your team’s color on your armband. You look at the monologuing Heavy before giving Jeremy a look that said “Man, he’s a wind bag, huh?” you gestured to the enemy, then drew your finger across your throat with a questioning look in your eye. Scout manages a weak nod, losing focus quickly.

Another long cord, similar to the one holding you to the ceiling, unraveled itself from around your arm, and very quickly you whipped it around the enemy’s neck, jumped onto his back, and wretched your arms back, almost instantly decapitating the Heavy. Even as the lumbering body fell down, you remained upright, hopping off the body gracefully. With swift efficiency, you kicked the head out of the way, grabbed the comically large gun, and aimed it at the door. Before Scour could even ask what the fuck was going on, an enemy Medic came in through the door. Before the German had a chance to yelp, you shot him dead.

“Yo, what the-!” You hastily toss a med-pack at him before melting into the shadow, Scout almost missing the darkening blush on your mostly covered face. After that little save, Jeremy now goes out of his way to be nice to you, and learns a lesson that looks are hella deceiving. It would pay to have someone watching his back on the field without all the unwanted french commentary (and you’re nicer to look at than Spy, let's be real)

Demo

You’re cheerful, but not in the sadistic, almost taunting way many of the other mercs are like. Not like the Doc or Spook. Nope, you were just happy. Not ditzy or stupid or anything, just a smiley little thing that had as much bite as a toothless alligator. The thought that someone could take you as a serious threat, some wee thing that eats rainbow colored cereal and wears bunny slippers throughout the base, was so hilarious that Tavish starts chuckling whenever it crosses his mind. The two of you don’t typically fight together, you sticking to high ground to pick off enemies as Demo gleefully stays in the thick of it all to implode the other team

Due to unfortunate circumstances, you're both pinned down together, shoulder to shoulder under a makeshift barrier as the enemy gets closer and closer; your bow at the ready with an arrow and his bombs prepared to go off at his command, but no opening to go up and take a shot/throw a bomb. You huff, looking around wildly before nodding decisively, looking to Tavish. “Gimme one of your sticky bombs.” He complies, half thinking that you’re gonna take the both of you out in a blaze of gory glory.

With a look of determination, you aim in front of you, not even at the enemy. Tavish prepares to die for the third time that day, but this time by his own creation, and you release your arrow. The projectile bounces off a scrap bit of metal on the ground, ricocheting the arrow up into hitting the lamppost, and then flying over their heads into the enemy’s ranks. Once the bomb went off, you instantaneously bounce out of the hiding place and opened fire on the stragglers who didn't get offed by the bomb. Tavish can only stare as you mow down the other team as a random stream of sunlight illuminates your figure. Demo catches feels in that moment

Pyro

Pryo liked that you were lowkey and sweet. The fact that you weren’t especially harsh or violent while relaxing initially made them flock to you just to hang out in their down time. Pyro loves to give you cute little toys and stuffies and see you smile! The only time Pyro really sees you on the battlefield is when they’re looking for you. They’re worried about you! You’re their favorite!

They catch you, mid-battle, covered head to toe in the blood of an enemy Scout, laying only a few feet away. They think you look so pretty! Like sparkles and rainbows are all around you and flower petals are floating in the air and surrounding you (it’s ash; pyro started a blaze not that far away and it was finally beginning to get to the two of you)

Pyro just sees this as more couple binding time, now that they know that you also tend to get a little too into the battle. It’s an excuse to spend even more time together

Engineer

This boy was so dang in love with you and he’s never even seen you fight. On the base, you were as sweet as a peach and harmless as a mouse. You spent most of your time in Dell’s workshop helping him with menial tasks like refilling his coffee mug or reorganizing his tools or alike. You got along well with all the other mercs and were quick to help others. Dell never really saw you while fighting because he had to stick near his machines while your job took you all over the battle field

He hears about you fighting from the others. Scout was retelling the group about you “friggin’ awesome fight” between you and an enemy Medic. You had, according to Scout (and Heavy, who nodded along in agreement) got into a fist fight with the enemy, physically beating them into submission. Dell wouldn’t believe it if you hadn’t walked right at the end of the tale with a black eye, bloodied knuckles, and a lopsided grin. Dell almost has a fucking heart attack seeing you in such a state. The Doctor heals you up back to normal like nothing ever happened but the fact that you relied on physical violence to fight made him anxious

He doesn't talk to you about fighting differently, he wants to know if there's anything he can do to help you fight, like making special gloves or armor of some type. Homeboy just wants to protect you, he gets hella worried.

Soldier

Jane, seemingly perpetually stuck in the 40’s and 50’s, believes most women shouldn't be on the battlefield at all. And even though you were there working with a bunch of other mercenaries, a lady is a lady and he, the old fashioned man he is, prioritizes keeping you “safe” (taking your kills before you get the chance to land the finishing blows). In his mind, he’s doing you a service. After all, you are far too soft spoken at the base to have any form of bite in you on the field.

Across the field though, one fight, Jane was just too far away to swoop in and “save” you like he normally would; not even his rocket launcher would get to you in time to stop the Spy from doing you in! The instant the enemy’s knife was about to pierce your back, though, Jane saw you turn around whip fast, your own machete thrusting forward to impale the enemy.

The soldier now thinks that your “womanly intuition” is far more superior and more finely tuned than his own, and will now generally leave you alone to fight and stops hovering over you. Will shout out encouragements from across the field whenever he sees that you hack someone apart and loudly brags that you have the “natural advantage” to sniffing out enemies.

Spy

-This is gonna be a drabble cus i dunno how to bullet point this-

Jacque didn’t think particularly much of you. You were a teammate, an asset to be used. On the base you were reserved, spending most of your time in the Doctor’s infirmary or discussing something with Mikhail about books or whatever. You stayed out of his way, not like it was hard for you, seeing as you were just some wisp of a thing, someone who if they sat still long enough would blend into the background like air. Spy never assumed that you would ever be of any use to him in a fight; you just didn’t have the look of a fighter in you.

So right now, his life being in your hands, made him uncomfortable in ways he couldn’t care to count.

The enemy Spy, who was almost as tricky as him, cleverly disguised himself as Jacque, and right as they were about to confront each other, you burst through the door, looking surprised at the two of them. Almost immediately, they started to accuse the other.

“He’s the enemy!”

“No, HE is!”

“The intruder is HIM!”

Jacque will give you some props, seeing as you drew your gun as soon as you saw the pair, but rather than aim it usefully at at least ONE of them, YOU aim it uselessly to the floor! Jacque would’ve scolded you for your unprofessionalism if the imminent threat of death wasn’t less than six feet away from him.

You looked wildly in between the two of them, your normally pleasant face now stricken with panic. Your eyes land solidly on the enemy Spy, and with a sharp intake of breath, you run to him, throwing your arms around him and burying your face into the falsely colored lapel.

Jacque felt disappointment bloom in his chest, along with dread when he watched your mistake.

The spy looked so damn smug as he wrapped his arms around you, throwing Jacque a satisfied look. The gun still was gripped in your hand, still aiming at the ground.

“Ma pauvre petite fille,” he crooned, “est-ce que le grand méchant espion t'a fait peur?”

You sniffle, and bring the gun up to the imposter’s head. “Je n'ai pas facilement peur.” Jacque didn’t think you could ever say something so coldly, and say it in french to boot. One shot rang out and the man in your arms fell to the floor, suit changing back to what it was meant to be, stained with red from the blood of his fatal wound.

After some deliberation with yourself, you shot him again, in the chest. You looked to Jacque, your face now once again passive.

With a sigh and a dramatic flourish, the living Spy fetched a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it quickly, taking a deep huff before addressing you.

“How did you know that he was not me?”

You holster your weapon back, mulling over your answer. “Few things, uh… you never speak French to me,” you stuck out one finger, “you wouldn’t ever hug me,” another finger, “you don’t stand with your feet that far apart,” one more, “and you smell completely different.” with all but your thumb sticking out, you nodded to yourself before jamming both hands into your pants pockets, tucking in your chin and turning heel back to the door, seemingly finished with your explanation and conversation.

Amused, Jacque took another slow drag of his cigarette, planning on paying more attention to you in the future, being sure never to underestimate you again.

-this, uuuuuhhh, took on a life of its own-

[spockandawe]

First of all thank you for your edit in mtl finale and extras chapters of thousand autumns....I see your blog talk alot about mxtx works and faraway wanderer (love your blog, btw)....can I ask about qian qiu? Who are your favorite characters in qian qiu? And what do like about shen qiao and yan wushi relationship? Thanks again.....

No problem at all!! I was having such a lovely time with that book and was heartbroken to see that translation gap at the end. I wasn't sure anyone would be interested in an mtl edit, and it's been delightful to see how happy it's made some folks! Someday I'll have to go through a side by side reading with a real translation and see how good my instincts were, haha

Oh man, this book...... Okay, to start, by far, my faves are Yan Wushi and Shen Qiao. They're both very strong Archetypes, but executed in a really lovely compelling way. My least favorite part of the book is honestly the overwhelming number of side characters, and if I hadn't enjoyed both leads so much, I would have absolutely stalled out. It's not a problem with the author, because i love the peerless/wushuang side cast, but something about this book... Some of the side characters were decent, like Bai Rong and the kids, but the two leads were what kept me going.

Shen Qiao is less My Type, and I'm not even sure how to explain why I like him so much. He's not UNlike Xie Lian, but even if they have similar temperaments, they have different priorities. At first I dont think I cared about him too-too much, and i worried he would just be a passive sexy doormat, because that is a character type you sometimes run into in the genre, but THAT actually echoes how i initially responded to Cui Buqu in Peerless, where the author baited and switched me HARD on what a character was all about. And i love it!

When he thwarted Yu Shengyan's assassination road trip adventure, even blind and amnesiac, that got my attention, but i dont think I REALLY got into him until he stone-cold killed a man. It's a really interesting balance of values going on with him, where he works so, so hard to be kind, in the face of an overtly cruel world, where he is FREQUENTLY hurt by his own determination to be kind, and.... where he still has his limits, which people can cross, and where he WILL respond as one of the top martial artists in the world. I just think he's Neat, especially in contrast to.......

YAN WUSHI! the clown love of my life! (I kid, feng xiao is my actual favorite clown man, but yan wushi sure is a hell of a contender). He's so INTERESTING. Especially in the early parts of the book, he very much is NOT kind, though he sometimes does kind acts for what are... usually cruel reasons. Saving Shen Qiao to see if he can corrupt Shen Qiao, things like that. It's an archetype i don't mind, but one I would get bored with if it was static over the course of a whole book. But also..... it's an archetype that is hard to believably develop past, especially when he isn't our main pov and our characters sometimes spend extended periods apart.

I desperately wish we had any more or his backstory, especially from his childhood, and what made him change his name, and what made him pick THIS name, where (i think) 'wushi' uses the characters for 'without a teacher'. I absolutely LIVE for his story about how a man tried and tried to polish a stone into a gem, until he had to finally admit that a stone was a stone, and he liked that stone better than any gem he'd ever seen. And especially........ I live for the way that by the time he tries to tell that story, Shen Qiao is absolutely DONE with his bullshit and is barely listening to what he says and parses exactly 0% of his intended meaning XD

Yan Wushi is perhaps the most self-sabotaging lead I've ever read in a novel. It's WILD. And to a certain extent, it smells like trauma, though the book never confirms anything, and Yan Wushi never tries to make excuses for his own shitty behavior. I would like him a lot less if he did, honestly. He spends a LOT of time acting in inexcusable ways, and only very gradually starts to realize 'wait, shit, i shouldn't'a done that'. And even then, when he knows what he WANTS, he still criticizes Shen Qiao for being willing to forgive him for his past actions. Shen Qiao rides a very fine line between being a reasonable character and being a caricature of a martyr, and Yan Wushi is one of the only characters who's willing to really dig into that.

And as he does so, he's very upfront about how HE is one of the people who's taken advantage of Shen Qiao too. It gives a very interesting flavor to the way his feelings grow. He says he's not sorry, and he never performs remorse or asks for forgiveness, and that.... I wouldn't necessarily say that he doesn't have any regrets, but the way he presents himself to Shen Qiao is brutally unforgiving, in a really interesting way that I haven't seen elsewhere.

(And once he starts being a little more kind and courting shen qiao more seriously....... what a fucking clown man playing clown games. When he did a deliberately shoddy cover-up of a fake medical emergency to try to trick shen qiao out of leaving. I just. I mcfucking lost it)

(Also the traumatic brain injury adventure. Also Yan Wushi being bitterly jealous of himself. The clownery is CHOICE)

And. I can't leave without saying a quick word for my two good boys who aren't actually good at all. Bian Yanmei, Yan Wushi's oldest disciple.... I love him. Why? We just don't know. But he's a good, polite boy, i swear, and there's something so charming about him (yu shengyan is also a good boy). And then there's Yu Ai. This. This is my type. This is a boy who's made a terrible choice that poisoned everything he cared most about, where he didn't realize how much he was ruining as he did it, only realized the consequences of his actions after it was all said and done. No matter how bitterly regretful he is, it can't be undone, and all he can do is press on along the path he's chosen, torn between the awareness that if he turns back now, he'll have sacrificed everything for nothing, but also the desperate desire to salvage something of what he once cherished. He showed up, and i was like 'oh no, you're going to make me hurt.' Sure enough, i cried. Yu Ai is so much my jam that it hurts. I can't even handle him.