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shaisuki · 8 months

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ADDICTION

|| the second entry for the series “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”

content warnings ─── bonten! sanzu, murder, talks about torture, noncon, implied kidnapping, drugs , dark themes, yandere themes

ᝰ synopsis.ᐟ when colored pills doesn't give him the high he needed, sanzu finds a new addiction, it's better than ecstasies.

the gunshot seem to frighten you. i apologize for that. in line of my "business" it is my job to keep the empire mikey had built to flourish. these traitors are not the worth of the name bonten and those who are without use should perish.

it's also to serve a warning to you. never run away from me.

i have no intention of harming you, let alone scare you. it's only a reminder that you can never escape from me, even you run to the ends of the world, i will follow you.

shed the blood of those who dares to look at you. serve their head in a platter. cut every finger who dares to lay their hands on you. rip their limbs apart one by one and not even death could escape their fate from my hands.

why are you crying? you don't like that? silly girl. it's a punishment for them who can't understand that you belong to me. what? can you repeat that? you don't want me nor anything of this?

you got no choice. you've bewitched me. got me high of my feelings that i didn't know i was capable of doing so. you've made me addicted to the sensation of your skin in mine. your voice like bells in my ears. no drugs could make me feel like the way you do.

you're the most potent drug that i could take. intoxicating me with your light that flows in my veins and gives me euphoria reaching in my brain. you're the medicine in my pain.

sometimes you're also the cause of the aches in my body. you never really learn do you? what got you shaking? the body drops as i pull the trigger on his head. blood pooling at those empty head of this incompetent fool to never let you out of sight when i'm dealing with mikey.

this is a warning. don't test me. although, i vowed myself to never harm you—you need to be taught a lesson. nobody messes with me, no one.

ssh. don't cry. this is all your fault. you're going to take whatever i give to you. fuck! i might lose control of myself whenever those tiny whimpers leave your mouth as i pressed my lips to your heated skin. be a good girl. all i want for you is to submit to me.

tears won't work on me darling, i've seen plenty of it. from the men who for me to spare their useless lives with a gun in my hand. it would be no different to you. you're mine to begin with. i own you.

a blissful sigh escaping from my lips as i inhale your scent. such beautiful hair you have. such bounty you have for yourself and it's mine to exploit.

the straps of your nightgown falling down to your round shoulders the more my lips move to feel of your skin. this would be your life with me as i clothe you with the most luxurious clothes i can provide for you. money ain't a problem for me. i have lots of them.

your body trembles as i touch you. i won't harm you, i told you. think of this as a lesson while you think of escaping me again. there's no escape in my grasps. as much i hate to force you, this is your punishment for making me angry. if you weren't my precious little things—i would have killed you.

we won't like that don't we? stay still. it would be easy for me to take you or else it would hurt. never been a problem for me to put down people like you.

that's it. you weren't that stubborn when i'm putting you in your place. that's right. the sight of you sinking in the sheets with your hands gripping the sheet while you brace yourself for me to take you. your plump ass raised to serve me.

eyes rolling as i sink to your warm pussy. engulfing me in such warmth that got me hooked, wishing forever to be inside you and now we are as one. connected to fulfill our desires and to feed my addiction.

i hope you learned your lesson with this one or else i'll be doing it until it get through your thick skin. i won't get tired of it nor will i ever stop.

this is what addiction to you feels like. a neverending rush of euphoria.

#ʚ•ɞ. shai writes #chubby reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers sanzu #akashi haruchiyo #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #yandere x reader

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aeoris4lovers · 11 months

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when caleb is talking to the nein about his past before the dinner with trent, he tells them that in the time he spent under trent, astrid and wulf never wavered in their dedication or willingness. after rereading his origins comic, though, i think he’s wrong. i think there was a pretty significant period of time where eadwulf specifically was having doubts about what they were doing right in front of his eyes.

exhibit a: the bodies

this is the most subtle example of it, but it’s also the earliest and probably represents the very beginnings of whatever doubts were brewing in wulf’s mind.

in both of these instances, there’s a dead or unconscious body on the ground, and wulf is staring at it while bren talks to trent. it’s hard to tell where he’s looking in the second one, but a later frame makes it clear that he’s looking in the direction of a body.

in the first one particularly, he looks to me like he’s visibly upset — his face isn’t as stoic as the others, and his body language looks uncertain, not his usual crossed-arm stance.

these were the moments that first caught my eye. they brought up questions in my mind: what is he thinking? what’s going through his head as he looks at the people they just hurt?

exhibit b: the bath scene

this comes immediately after the second body, and is what confirmed in my mind that wulf definitely isn’t entirely on board with the things they’re being told to do.

he closes the door behind them and just stands with his fist against it. none of them look happy by any means, but it’s clear that he’s upset to a point where even bren and astrid, in the midst of their own feelings, look concerned and go to comfort him.

bren in particular takes a long moment with him before the two of them rejoin astrid. i’ll get into why that — and bren’s role in general — is significant in a moment.

exhibit c: the morning after

this is the most important point in all of this, and the significance of his reaction here really can’t be understated.

in this moment, trent has just drawn their attention to their “memories” of their parents defying the empire. these are, from their point of view, very real and undeniable memories. and yet, the reaction we see here from wulf is one of explicit and absolute rejection.

and he’s not just denying what trent wants him to believe — he’s angry. he’s standing up and slamming a hand on table and raising his voice. doubt has been simmering under the surface in him for a while now, and this is the moment that trent crosses a line. trent has presented something truly unthinkable to him and despite his own memories supporting it, he absolutely cannot believe it. on a very visceral level, he knows it can’t be right.

this moment is significant not only because it confirms beyond a shadow of a doubt that wulf is not completely sure of what they’re doing, but also because we literally never see another student of trent openly defy him like this, nor do we see any volstrucker do so.

let me repeat that: until caleb goes up against him with the nein, eadwulf is the only person we ever see look trent in the eye and say “you’re wrong.” even after all of campaign two, we never see someone actively working under him defy him that explicitly — it’s only caleb, who escaped his control, or people like the nein with no real connection to him. even when astrid acts against him, she does it very quietly and is clearly terrified of those actions being alluded to at the dinner. wulf is the only one we ever see who, while at trent’s mercy, dares to openly and completely reject him.

bringing his family into it was a step too far. at this point, wulf isn’t just struggling with what they’re being told — he’s absolutely not having it anymore.

so what gives?

we know that he ultimately believes trent enough to kill his parents, and is even the first of the three to do it, so how do we get to that level of agreement from such a powerful moment of anger and denial?

that’s where bren comes in.

looking back at that breakfast scene, we can also see how the other two react to their own memories coming to light.

astrid’s is one of betrayal. she’s confused and struggling to understand why they would do it, but she doesn’t deny it either.

bren’s, on the other hand, is one of defeat. he’s clearly upset, but he’s simultaneously totally certain that what they’re remembering is true. and of course he is — his memory has been impeccable his entire life. why would he start to question it now, even if he doesn’t want to believe what it’s telling him?

bottom line: while astrid clearly also struggles with it and may have her own doubts, though not as strong as wulf’s, bren takes it all in stride and never wavers.

and if there’s one thing we know about wulf, it’s that he trusts his people. throughout his scenes in campaign two, we see him looking to astrid for signs of what to do or say and deferring to her when he’s overwhelmed by or unsure of the situation at hand. when caleb takes his hand at the blooming grove, he follows, and when astrid takes his hand and leads him away, he follows her. where they go, he follows. he trusts them implicitly and he looks to them when he doesn’t know what the right call is.

so what is he going to do in that moment, when his own mind is telling him something that he absolutely can’t believe and he doesn’t know how to reconcile it? he looks to them for guidance.

astrid clearly isn’t in a place to offer much, and hasn’t been. she’s not as lost in doubt as he is, but she’s not certain enough to reassure him either. we can already see that in the bath scene — remember when i said it was significant that bren is the one to stay with wulf while astrid goes off on her own? she wants to comfort him and tries to because she cares about him, but it seems that her conviction isn’t quite strong enough to be a steady base for someone else. and in the breakfast scene, we see that again, with her not openly going against it but still struggling with it in a way bren doesn’t.

bren, on the other hand, is consistently certain that they’re doing the right thing, even when it feels bad. caleb says as much himself when he first tells beau and nott his story: “i was so sure, i was so sure, until i wasn’t.” hearing his parents scream as they die is genuinely the first time he ever has doubts. until that moment, he’s sure. he trusts his mind and he trusts trent and he believes in their cause.

so when he sees wulf struggling with it, what does he do? he offers that certainty, reminds him of why they’re doing what they do, assures him that they’re doing the right thing and he doesn’t have to feel guilty. he’s their rock, the one wulf and astrid can trust to be sure even when their faith is shaken.

and that’s exactly what i think happens in the time between that breakfast and the night they kill their parents: bren sees wulf angry and totally lost trying to make sense of the massive gulf between what he remembers and what he knows to be true, he sees astrid confused and not able to put the pieces together, and he reassures them because he trusts his mind and so do they and he doesn’t want to see them struggle.

and i think astrid needs less convincing, but once she’s sure too and it’s only wulf that can’t accept it, that’s when he starts to think that maybe the unthinkable could really be true. bren is certain of what he remembers and astrid is certain that bren is right, so how can wulf, who trusts and relies on them so much for guidance, not at least entertain the idea that his parents really are traitors? how can he deny it and, in doing so, deny them?

that’s how he can ultimately go and do what he’s told, with such a stern and certain look on his face as he does. because his people were sure that it was the right thing to do, and no matter how strongly he feels that something must be wrong, he trusts them even more than he trusts himself.

that’s not to say that his doubts are completely quelled, though, because there’s still more of this thread that we can follow.

exhibit d: the aftermath

wulf’s move to knock bren out and save astrid is a quick and decisive one in the moment, but it’s clear that he isn’t at all sure if he did the right thing. he talks to trent — explaining himself, maybe even apologizing because he thinks he was wrong — and trent has to stop him and say that no, he was right.

this is significant for two reasons. the first and more obvious of the two is that this shows he’s still in a headspace of questioning what he’s doing almost immediately after doing it. that doubt was quelled long enough to allow him to complete the “exercise”, but not by any means gone for good.

the second, which i think is the most important to the person he ultimately becomes, is that this is the first time he’s had to look to trent for reassurance.

before this moment, it’s bren and astrid who comfort and reassure him. but now, bren is lost to them and astrid is in no shape to offer any comfort, much less give him the reassurance bren might have. and she might not want to do so even if she could — she wanted to save bren, not leave him behind, and may very well be angry at wulf for the choice he made. so what choice does he have, with neither of them able to support him, but to look to his mentor for reassurance?

and what happens once he gets that reassurance from trent? before, he doubted trent and even openly defied him, but can he continue to do that now?

if he wants to be able to live with himself after, to live with the choice he made and sleep at night, he has to believe that the reassurance trent offered him that night was right — he has to believe that trent’s judgment is right. if trent is lying or just wrong, that means he did the wrong thing that night, and where can he go from there?

that night is a turning point for wulf not just because he took his parents out of the picture, but because he made a decision that ended up forcing him to trust trent to an extent that he really didn’t before.

the new eadwulf

the wulf that we meet in campaign two as an adult is a far cry from the wulf who stood up at that table and said “no, they would never.” he comes across as largely apathetic to and even comfortable with the things they do — it’s just a job for him, not something to overthink or get hung up on. as far as he’s concerned, the lives they take are unfortunate but still necessary sacrifices, just like trent always said.

and if you ask me, his journey to becoming that person, to the doubt and the fire in him being all but completely stomped out, starts with the night he was forced to give up his one source of constant reassurance and finally put his trust in trent instead. everything we see him do to separate himself from his actions, from his belief in fate and his “good soldier” attitude to the drink he has ready after spending time with trent, stems from that moment. he is the way he is when we meet him not because he simply doesn’t care, but because he can no longer afford to.

caleb says they never wavered while he was with them, but i think it’s only because his vision was clouded by his own certainty that he never saw it. he just couldn’t believe that they might not believe in their cause as much as he did because it seemed so right to him, and how could he believe that the people he loved would doubt something so important?

but they did doubt it, especially wulf, and even as an adult, little bits of that stick around in him — he immediately gravitates toward caduceus after caduceus stands up to trent, and as soon as trent isn’t a threat anymore, he’s perfectly content to just stay with caleb (and probably would have if astrid hadn’t pulled him away when she did).

i think, if bren hadn’t been selected for the volstrucker program or just hadn’t been as confident as he was in all of it, it may very well have been eadwulf who found himself standing against trent in the end.

#thank you for coming to my ted talk #this turned out so much longer than i expected i just. have so many wulf thoughts #no clue if this made sense but i needed to write it all out #sometimes you gotta just. write an essay about some shit that no one asked to hear #cr meta #eadwulf grieve #blumendrei #caleb widogast #astrid becke #bren aldric ermendrud #eodwulf grieve #blumentrio #c2 #the mighty nein #critical role #critical role meta

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cameronspecial · 1 month

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Little Subway Things

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N like each other, but haven't defined their relationship and Rafe is ready to take the next step.

A/N: Inspired by something I saw on the subway once. It was cute.

Masterlist

So far, New York is everything Y/N expected it to be. The tall towering buildings give her a sense of claustrophobia not experienced in the open skyline of the Outer Banks. She smells new, often familiar with some sort of bodily expulsion, scents that remind her that she isn’t the first person to have explored this area of land. The people are exactly like she sees on the screen; always in a hurry to get somewhere unknown. Yet, despite this short experience not surprising her, she is still engrossed with the city. She and Rafe have been here for three days now and they’ve been to most of the sites already. The 9/11 memorial. Rockefeller Centre. The Empire State. The Brooklyn Bridge. The Statue of Liberty. Central Park. All the historical landmarks she’s wanted to see. They’ve been moving from place to place via the driver Rafe hired for their trip. Now, that they are slowing down in their activities, Y/N gets to experience something she’s never got to do in the Outer Banks. The island barely has a transit system, let alone a subway, so the girl is curious about the idea of travelling underground on a train. Rafe doesn’t understand her excitement, but this trip is all about her and he would do anything for her happiness.

She bounces on her feet as Rafe pushes in the information on the kiosk’s screen. He slides his card in and quickly removes it when prompted. The screen displays a reminder to get the MetroCard. He holds out his hand in the direction of the card, telling her she can take it. Her hand snatches it and holds it against her chest. He smirks at his girlfriend with a shake of his head. His arm wraps around her shoulder to pull her into his side. They get to the turnstile and he takes the card from her hand. He tries swiping it, yet the machine seems to reject his attempt. She waits patiently in front of the bars for it to work. Eventually, she gets nervous from the stares of the city’s natives. “Baby, why don’t you let me try?” she suggests. Rafe could be considered the human embodiment of machoism, except all he wants is to get out of this public place. So he sighs and hands over the card to her.

Her smile is small and it reassures him. She steps away from the gate, allowing Rafe to take her place. Once she slides the thin rectangle through the machine, the bar finally moves and lets him through. Y/N repeats the process, so she can join him. He intertwines their hands and navigates her to their platform. As they wait for the train, her back faces the track while she peers upward to talk to her boyfriend. Wanting to be out of here, his eyes dart to the screen that tells him how long until the next train. “So we are going to the pizza place now, and I was thinking maybe we can go to the all-romance bookstore?” she wonders. He looks down at her with an arched brow, “You don’t read tho, Cupcake.” “I know. The place looks aesthetic though and maybe romance books will get me into it,” she shrugs. “Okay, if that’s what you want.” Having been on the subway a few times before when he visited the city, he knows the signs that the train is coming. Y/N seems to be oblivious to the slight rumble of the floor and even though she is behind the yellow safety line, Rafe grows worried she isn’t far enough. The subway approaches fast and he instinctively reaches out to tug her into his chest. She bumps into him, turning in his arm to watch their transportation zoom by. His leathery-scented cologne fills her senses and she takes it in. He sighs at her content, gently shoving her onto the now-open train.

They can’t find a seat once there so his hand rests on her waist while the other tightens around one of the poles above to keep them stable. She squeezes against him in the packed environment and looks up at him with adoration in her eyes. The little thing he does to keep her safe always melts her heart. “I love you, Baby,” she whispers. He grins down at her and presses his lips against her forehead, “I love you too, Cupcake.”

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe #obx

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zhukzucraft · 2 months

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Wild Life - Chapter 1

A fan-made Life SMP session project by Zhuk and Schmomo

>Read it on AO3 here<

Scott blinked, eyes adjusting to the sudden change in light. It had been night time in Chromia when he’d been warned by Grian of the impending summoning. Now he was in the bright morning light on a brand new server, surrounded by familiar faces.

Well, not as familiar as he had been expecting.

“Are we furries?” he heard Jimmy question, standing a few players down from him.

Scott felt his ears twitch, a startling sensation in and of itself. His hands moved to the sides of his head, but only found his wavy blue hair. Before he could migrate his touch further, to see if he looked similar to the equally confused gaggle of players around him, Grian grabbed his attention.

Grian clapped his hands, “You all know the gist. Season six, three lives each. Reds are hostile. Three, two, one, bye!”

Scott blinked several more times as his fellow players sprinted in varying directions, screeching chaotically. After a second to process he quickly followed suit, dashing backwards from spawn and into what he soon realized was a Dark Oak Forest.

Not ideal, he thought to himself, but he was already in the thick of it. He started hacking away at the bark with his bare hand and let his mind wander up to the sky.

Season six, Scott repeated in his head. Six times now he had found himself summoned, chosen by those beings he still did not quite comprehend to participate in a death game amongst some of his closest friends. The details changed but the goal always remained the same: last player standing wins. Wins what? Scott had already won and he still did not know. He’d been given audience with the beings, but they had looked at him with derision more so than any kind of admiration or praise for his victory. It had been hard to concentrate, or think in their presence. He could not even look at them without a piercing pain behind his eyes.

Despite knowing this, the drive to win was ever-present. Even if it would all be for naught in the end. He would spend a few blissful months in his empire only to be whisked away with just a quick warning on his comms, to return to the bloodbath.

He finished punching down the tree, yielding himself quite a bit of wood in the process. He crafted a table and got to work on a simple pickaxe. It was only then while digging through his inventory that he spotted the book.

He pulled it out, cracking it open to read:

Welcome to Wild Life! You are a Cat! … What? Did you expect further explanation? Where’s the fun in that? Good luck!

As he closed the book, he vanished it from his hands and back into his inventory. He frowned. “Why do you always have to be such a menace, Grian,” Scott sighed.

“That’s not very nice,” Grian said.

Scott shrieked, one hand moving to clutch at his heart as he whirled around. There, he found Grian, wearing his typical red sweater and already boasting an iron sword in his hand. Atop his messy mop of light brown hair were two fluffy pointed ears.

“Grian! You scared me!”

Grian laughed, putting his sword away. “Guess that means you’re a scaredy cat.”

Scott rolled his eyes, feeling something behind him flick back and forth. He glanced backwards to find he had a blue-gray tail, long and puffed up from fright. His ears pinned back in embarrassment, and his hand moved up to touch them atop his head to finally examine them. They felt pointed, just like Grian’s, but perhaps larger.

Right. He’d made a point not to really think about it.

“Did you not notice?” Grian continued, a giggle still coating his words.

“Of course I noticed,” Scott grumbled, “Jimmy’s comment soured any sort of interest quite quickly.”

Grian snorted.

“You have no business calling me a scaredy cat when you’re a feline too,” Scott continued.

“I wish,” Grian sighed, “But pointy ears aside, I’ve been cursed with doghood.”

“Oh?” Scott blinked, trying to look closer to see if he could figure out the difference. But Grian took a step back.

“Got to go,” Grian said quickly, “Oh and, watch out for the skeleton behind you,” he added, before darting away through the trees.

As if on cue, an arrow pierced into Scott’s shoulder, lurching him forward. He twisted around to find the skeleton just one tree down, shaded by the thick canopy of Dark Oak leaves. Scott cursed under his breath, running a few meters away before taking some of his spare planks and towering up above the tree line. He took in a breath, ripping out the arrow with another curse on his lips.

“You couldn’t have spared me an iron ingot for a shield, Grian!?” Scott shouted out into the air in exaggerated annoyance. He wiped some sweat from his brow before returning to holding his injured shoulder. He needed food. That shot had taken nearly a third of his health away–

He only had nine hearts.

He blinked, recounting them in his head, but no, instead of the normal ten he only had the outline of nine. For a moment he feared they were playing without regeneration again, but no, the silhouettes of two and a half hearts remained.

He pursed his lips. This might be a cat thing. He would need to get a feather and ink sac to start jotting down these observations if part of this game was to discover their own abilities.

He supposed that gave him a place to start. He should keep an eye out for fellow felines to exchange information with while he hunted down some food. He kept to the treetops, hoping between leaves, careful not to fall into any gaps in case he lost even more hearts. How embarrassing would it be to become the first yellow on day one.

Eventually, he found the edge of the forest, where the Dark Oak gave way to a small stretch of grass before easing into water. From his high vantage point he could see it was a large lake. He could just barely see the shadow of the coast on the other side.

He hopped down carefully, digging along the coast until he found some stone. From there it was simple to craft a set of stone tools and a furnace. He slipped into the cold water and drew out his sword. He managed to swipe at a few cod and was able to return to grass relatively quickly.

He shivered, shoving some dark oak logs into the furnace and throwing the fish over it. He was so hungry even their raw form made his mouth water. But no, he wasn’t an animal–

Well, maybe he was. As he chewed on his cooked cod, he ventured closer to the lake’s edge to look at himself properly. His large blue gray ears twitched atop his head and his long tail swayed behind him. He curled it, watching, a bit mesmerized, as the appendage moved under his control. In his reflection he saw the shimmer of another player behind him, hopping down from the treetops.

He waited, pretending not to notice the intruder to see what they were up to. But the man quickly gave way his position by calling out, “Oho! Is that food I smell?”

Scott snorted, turning around lazily to face his visitor. Etho stood right in front of the furnace, poking at the still cooking cod with his iron sword. How did everyone already have iron?

“Can I have a bite?” Etho asked, “I’m starving.”

“Dog or cat?” Scott asked instead, hopping atop his furnace to look down at the taller man.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Etho raised a brow. His pointed white ears swiveled, and his fluffy white tail swished behind him.

“I’ve been fooled already,” Scott replied, lifting his hand to push some stray blue strands behind his ears. He failed in his endeavor, his ears no longer there at all. He frowned.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Etho said, lifting his hand to make a little paw motion by his masked cheek, “Meow.”

Scott laughed, retrieving one of his pieces of cod and tossing it to Etho, who easily caught it. From his own inventory he took out two oak logs, setting them down on the grass. He took a seat on one, and Scott joined him on the other – reluctantly, suddenly missing the cozy warmth of the furnace.

“Still working with stone, eh?” Etho pointed out.

Scott huffed, “Well excuse me for being a bit careful and not barreling into the first hole in the ground I find.”

Etho dug through his inventory, handing him a stack of ten or so iron ingots. Scott’s eyes widened.

“A bunch of us found an above ground vein,” Etho explained, and even though Scott couldn’t see his mouth he knew he was sporting a cheeky grin, “There’s a mountain on the northside of the map. It was all snatched up within ten minutes I’d say,” Etho laughed.

“By you?” Scott asked with a raised brow.

“Not just me,” Etho replied. “Have you met anybody else so far?”

“Just Grian,” Scott said, “He’s a dog.”

“Is he?” Etho blinked, “Looked feline to me. He made out with the most iron, I think. Him and Gem. She’s definitely a cat.”

“Did you see anyone else?’ Scott probed.

“Bdubs is a dog,” Etho counted out on his fingers, “Cleo is a dog too. Honestly, I think all of my friends are canines.” His ears pinned closer to his head, “They all ran off together pretty quickly.”

Scott placed his chin in his hand, logging the information away. He wondered if it was worth searching out Gem, then. However, they had teamed up just last game, and Scott did his best to switch up his allies as much as he could in these sessions.

Their pockets lit up and they both brought out their comms to see new messages flashing on their screens.

Skizzleman > DOGS RULE ImpulseSV > CATS DROOL InTheLittleWood > based Smajor1995 > rude.

Scott put away the comms after he finished typing his response, “Well, I suppose we can assume what those three are.”

Etho sighed, standing up from the log. Scott mirrored him. After all, the sun was past the midpoint and he hadn’t made much progress at all. He really should find himself a cave after he finished crafting a set of tools with the donated iron. Caves were always so dangerous in the early game…

“Seems like the dogs are sticking together,” Scott said casually. His tail flicked as he looked up at Etho, “Perhaps we should form our own feline alliance?”

“Fe-liance,” Etho offered, which made Scott snort. “Sure, but we should probably find a good spot to hunker down. We don’t have much daylight left.”

Scott shoved the rest of his items back into his inventory, giving a quick glance around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. With that, he and Etho started walking, following the edge of the lake with the Dark Oak forest to their left.

“Something’s happening out there,” Etho commented, pointing out toward the lake.

Scott squinted, making out the vague silhouette of something being built out in the middle of the lake. It was too far to really make out exactly.

“If only we had a spyglass,” Etho sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he continued his leisurely pace.

“I bet they’re in trident range,” Scott replied. Etho laughed.

“And you’re in my range!”

Scott looked up, watching as someone shot down from the heavens, spinning in a tight circle as he went. He landed right in front of them, facing the wrong direction. He quickly corrected himself, but even without facing them, Scott would recognize Joel’s vest and linen shirt combo anywhere. Of course, now he was also sporting some brown cat ears and a brown and black striped tail.

He grinned at them, “360 spin jump from sky limit. Impressive, am I right?”

Scott raised a brow, shifting so he could look past Joel and see that he did have a tower of cobble going up into the sky. “I knew you were a thrill seeker, but that seems more like a death wish to water bucket clutch on day one.”

“Have you learned nothing from me?” Etho added, “At least boat it.”

Joel blinked at them, “...You’re both cats right?”

“Yeah?” Scott started, glancing over at Etho who simply shrugged.

Joel’s confusion seemed to give way to a manic sort of grin. His tail swayed back and forth and the entire display gave Scott the urge to bristle. Joel could be so infuriatingly smug sometimes. Maybe all the time.

“Joel!”

Joel turned his head, tail perking up straight, “Over here, Lizzie!”

“You’ve wasted all my cobble!” Lizzie complained, coming into view. She sported a pair of ears folded down slightly on her head, the fur a soft orangey-pink. Her tail was especially fluffy, similar to Etho’s.

“It was necessary,” Joel brushed off. “Had to make sure you were right.”

“Well, now you owe me for the cobble and the information,” Lizzie huffed, “Give me a bucket.”

“I don’t have a bucket,” Joel snapped back.

“But I saw an axolotl!” Lizzie whined. Joel sighed, digging through his inventory and throwing three iron ingots into his wife’s arms.

She squealed, “Okay, thanks, bye forever!”

Joel rolled his eyes, but his smile was soft and fond, so unlike the manic look he’d worn before.

“That was quite cold of you, Joel,” Scott commented.

“What?” Joel said, turning back to look at them, “I gave her the iron!”

“You could have just given her your bucket.”

“I don’t have one. Are your new ears not working properly?”

Scott pressed his lips into a thin line. Did Joel think he was an idiot?

“Joel, do you have a base yet?” Etho asked.

Joel’s shoulders immediately loosened, looking over at the white cat hybrid, “I’ve carved out a little place inside one of the dark oaks.”

“Cool, we’re moving in,” Etho said.

“Excuse me?” Both Joel and Scott snapped, before glancing at each other.

“Sun’s setting,” Etho said easily.

“That’s not my blummin’ problem,” Joel huffed.

“You’d let your boat boy die out here?” Etho pouted and Joel groaned, but seemed to fold easily enough at the words.

“But why’s Scott have to come?” Joel asked, even as he started to lead them toward his starter base.

“We’re in a Fe-liance,” Etho said, “You are too.”

“I don’t think cats work in packs,” Scott couldn’t help but comment.

“Lions do,” Etho said.

“That’s a pride, not a pack,” Joel replied.

“Joel’s got a lot of that. Pride and ego,” Scott said.

Etho snorted, but Joel just shot him a glare, illuminated by the flicker of his torch light. With his back turned, he didn’t see the zombie coming toward him.

Luckily, both Etho and Scott had quick reflexes–with Scott grabbing Joel’s arm to wrench him behind his shield and Etho drawing out his sword to slash at the beast.

Joel recovered fairly quickly, jumping into the fight with relative ease. They were getting surrounded by mobs now. Scott deflected an arrow with his shield and then slashed at a spider rearing up on him.

“This way!” Joel called, and Scott stabbed the spider one last time, relishing in its death cry. He had no time to grab the string it dropped, instead turning to race after Joel and Etho, weaving through the thick forest of trees. He almost missed it, but there was a dark oak door on one of the trunks that Joel swung open, urging the two inside before closing and locking it behind them.

It wasn’t a natural tree trunk, Scott realized immediately. It was much more spacious, hollowed out and with ample room for the three of them to move. It was only one room and it still only had grass for flooring, but it kept the monsters out.

“Only one bed?” Etho asked, looking around.

“I wasn’t exactly expecting company,” Joel grumbled, pushing past them to the left side wall where he already had a double chest. He dug through it, taking out some raw chicken and more fish. He started loading up his furnace, and Scott summoned his own to speed up the process. Joel said nothing but did dump the fish in Scott’s hands to deal with.

“I’ve got one,” Etho assured, placing down a bed right beside Joels’.

“You found more sheep?” Joel blinked, “I was with Martyn and Jimmy briefly when we found a herd and they obliterated them. It almost seemed like they’d gone red.”

There was a smug crinkle around Etho’s eyes, “I actually hid two away. I’ll bring them here in the morning.”

“Brilliant,” Joel grinned.

“Are we married to living in this dreary place?” Scott asked, “Such a gloomy color scheme.”

“You can head out the door whenever you want,” Joel snapped.

“And leave you and Etho to pair up again? That’s been done. I have to stick around now to spice it up.”

“Is that a rule I don’t know about?” Etho asked, “Because I’ve repeated buddies every series.”

“Scott just likes being extra,” Joel said.

Scott gave a little wink, flicking his hair back and swishing his tail for good measure. Joel grimaced.

While the food cooked, Etho and Scott crafted their own chests, each claiming a corner of their room to organize their things. When they finished, the pair joined Joel to eat. Ehto sat on the bed, Joel leaned against his chest and Scott found himself drawn to perching on the lit furnace once again.

“Has fish always tasted this good?” Etho asked as he ripped into the salmon.

“The chicken’s divine as well,” Joel agreed.

“Perhaps it’s a cat thing,” Scott offered, “Did your books give you any clues?”

“Nah,” Etho said, “These games are never that easy.”

“Heh,” Joel grinned, “So you really don’t know anything do you?”

“You’d keep secrets from the Fe-liance?” Etho gasped.

“Don’t listen to him,” Scott said, “Joel’s not smart enough to know so much so soon.”

Joel squawked, “I’m plenty smart, Scott! And not only that, I’ve got a wife who lives her imperial life as a cat all blumming day every day.”

Scott’s eyes widened. It was true – Lizzie was the Empress of Animalia back on their home server. Despite her best attempts to hide her feline traits, it was fairly obvious she wasn’t fully human. “We need her on our team.”

Joel’s shoulders slumped, “Scar snatched her up immediately. Maybe he had the same idea, I don’t know. But she refused to link up with me. At least right now.”

“Why the hell would she want to pair with Scar? He’s an accident prone disaster,” Scott groaned.

“He did win last season,” Etho reminded them.

“I guess,” Scott conceded, tapping his chin, “And Lizzie did crash and burn back there too. Died before Jimmy and everything.”

“Hey!” Joel snapped, “It was your fault she died in the first place!” He shoved his finger into Scott’s chest.

Scott easily slapped it away, “My fault? Who was the one sending her to kill me?”

Joel growled, tail slashing back and forth in agitation.

“Man this cod sure is good,” Ehto interrupted loudly, “Nothin’ like sleeping on a full stomach.” He leaned back, stretching out on the double bed.

Scott let himself be distracted, slipping off the furnace in favor of crawling into the beds beside Etho.

“Oi!” Joel started, “Are we really going to cram three of us into two beds?”

“Afraid to cuddle me, Joel?” Scott teased.

Joel shot him a look, “You’ve brought nothing to the table. You should sleep on the floor.”

“We’ll get a third bed tomorrow,” Etho waved off, “Come on, it’s warmer like this anyway. We’ve fit more people in our bed in Double Life.”

Joel reddened a little as he grumbled.

“Oh?” Scott tilted his head, ears perked for any juicy gossip.

“Bdubs insisted on having a sleepover at least one night,” Etho laughed, “It was all four of us sandwiched between the furnaces in the Relation Ship.”

“And it was terrible, Etho,” Joel scowled, but still climbed into the bed, shoving Scott with more force than necessary to carve himself a space. “I’m pretty sure Impulse ended up on the floor and I burned my hand on the furnace.”

“Our hand,” Etho corrected with a yawn.

“Even worse,” Joel agreed. He turned onto his side, facing away from both Scott and Etho. Etho chuckled, nuzzling into his pillow. Scott soon realized he’d found himself in the worst spot, sandwiched between them. Perhaps it would be better for him to be on the floor – not that he’d ever admit that fact to Joel.

“You know, Joel,” Scott tried instead, unable to suppress his grin, “It would make more sense for you to be in the middle, what with you being shorter–”

Joel kicked his leg back, slamming it into Scott, “I swear to the void, Scott! One more word out of you and you’ll be the first damn death message in the chat.”

Scott laughed, even though the kick had him wincing in pain. In fact, he’d taken a tick of damage from it too. So he conceded, keeping quiet and enjoying the little taste of victory in the rise he’d managed to get. He closed his eyes, relishing in the warmth the bodies surrounding him provided.

Tomorrow he’d dig down and get his full diamond gear. He’d find Lizzie and interrogate her. From there he’d start formulating a real plan for the season and get back on track.

He was almost asleep when Etho whispered close to his ear, “Should have warned you earlier, Scott.”

“Hmm?” Scott murmured sleepily.

“If you’re sleeping so close to Joel, best to keep your neck covered.”

“ETHO!” Joel shrieked.

Scott laughed, curling up to dodge the pillow being slammed into Etho’s face.

It was going to be an interesting season. A wild one at that.

#life series smp #smallishbeans #smajor1995 #grian fanart #wild life smp

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 6 months

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Vanessa x sub gn reader? something with handcuffs please 🙏

FULL FIC NOW POSTED!!!

okay so I know I was supposed to be working on This Request - but I got sidetracked. and I had an idea in my head that I really wanted to write, and this request worked well with that idea, so I am now working on an entirely different fic. but it's still a Vanessa fic, so I think it still counts!

anyway, here's a quick preview of the fic (which I am really excited about)

Damn The Man, Save The Empire - (Dark)Vanessa Shelly x GN!Reader (Preview)

(I think the only warnings for this are Vanessa and the reader having a toxic co-dependent dynamic, Vanessa being generally dark and kind of mentally unstable, the power imbalance in a relationship that comes with one of them being a police officer, Vanessa's general daddy issues, and I think that's it?)

...

“How is dear old daddy, by the way?” You asked, picking at the raw nerve out of spite. “Has he missed me at family dinners?”

“Shut up!” Vanessa barked. Then after a heavy moment, she let out another quiet, mousy sentence. “I haven’t seen him in years. You know that.”

“Oh, but your bank account says otherwise.” You replied. “The new apartment is so nice. I know you’re not bankrolling all that on a cop’s salary. What kind of dirty work does he have you doing these days?”

Vanessa’s silence was painfully knowledgeable.

He had sucked her back in somehow.

“I knew that you always had a soft spot for him.” You sighed. “You probably wish he had gotten rid of me all those years ago.” You mumbled quietly. “It’s not like you ever actually cared about me.”

Of course, you were feeling hurt by her putting you in handcuffs, threatening to turn you in, something that felt like the ultimate betrayal - so the words slipped out.

You were shocked when Vanessa slammed on the breaks and the car came to a screeching halt - and if not for your instincts (even while slightly inebriated) to put your foot against the cage, keeping yourself from smacking forward, then you likely would have had the harsh shape of that mesh imprinted on your cheek.

“I never cared about you?” Vanessa asked, her voice filled with an intense, dark rage.

You caught her eye in the rearview mirror, and save for the tears dancing on her waterline - she had a look almost identical to that same crazed look her father had worn all those years ago. You almost would have mocked her for it if you didn’t feel your stomach clenching up with fear.

“I never cared about you?” She repeated, so utterly insulted by what you had said that she could feel her reality tearing apart - she almost could believe that you had said it.

“Vanessa-” You choked out, calling her by her full name for the first time in so long, but before you could beg for mercy or apologize, she abruptly cut you off.

“No.” She said. “Shut up.”

The pure force of her voice sent chills through you, and this time you couldn’t help but to comply.

You sat in a dizzying silence as she slammed on the gas pedal again, and the car went speeding off - she seemed very determined with where she was going, and after a minute or two, where you were becoming increasingly light-headed from your worry, Vanessa whipped the cruiser into an empty lot - a random patch of dirt that looked like it was on the back end of a place used to keep scrap cars. It was dark and secluded. Nobody would find you here.

#sundrop answers #sundrop writes #anonymous #requested #requests #vanessa afton x reader #vanessa shelly #vanessa shelly x reader #fnaf movie fanfiction

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the-journal-in-law · 1 year

Text

Are We Not Enemies?

@saltydumplings

"You left me!" the villain accused, eyes narrowed and lined with the faintest hint of tears as they jabbed a finger towards their nemesis.

The hero's expression, however, remained bewildered. "I went on holiday..."

"You didn't tell me!" the villain snapped.

"I was gone for a week--"

"I thought you were dead! I thought Supervillain had killed you so I hunted them down and I killed them to get revenge for you!"

The hero's mouth fell open wordlessly, eyes going wide. "Y-You did what?"

"What? Was I supposed to just let your killer go?"

The hero spluttered. "That's what I expected, yes!"

The villain went quiet at that, tilting their head down so the hero couldn't see what they were feeling. Hoarsely, they repeated, "I thought you were dead..."

"Are you - are you crying?" the hero said incredulously.

"Shut up!" The villain wiped their eyes on their sleeve. "I wouldn't have had to do it if you hadn't disappeared on me!"

The hero was speechless. Then, in a confused voice, they said, "Did I miss something? Are we friends? Heck, lovers?"

The villain fixed a blank look on them. "Excuse me?"

"It's just...the way you're reacting is more like a concerned wife than a murderous maniac." The hero gestured helplessly.

Really, all they did was respond to an emergency call right after getting off the plane. And - surprise, surprise - the first villain they had to fight after their holiday was the one the hero was often called to apprehend.

What did surprise them was when the villain suddenly stopped their monologue upon catching sight of the hero. Then, the villain had teleported them to an abandoned warehouse where they proceeded to rant about taking a break off work without telling them.

"I'm really sorry if I did miss something. You know, my friend calls me an oblivious idiot on good days, and with you being - well, a villain - I never considered you would want to date me?" The hero's voice went high. "Not that you being a villain means I don't want to date you. Just that I kinda wasn't expecting it? N-not that I think you want to date me. We can be friends! If you're open to it. It might be a bit weird, what with us being on opposing sides, but I'm sure we can--"

"Hero," the villain interrupted. "Breathe."

The hero gasped in a huge breath. With a weak smile, they said, "S-sorry. I tend to ramble a lot."

"I know," the villain said. "It's not like you haven't kept an entire conversation going during our fights - by yourself while fighting. This is a pretty late apology."

"I do that?" the hero wondered, then shook their head. "Nevermind! Can we go back to the fact that you killed Supervillain?"

The villain crossed their arms. "I figured it was past time for someone to topple their throne."

"Wait, no," the hero said. "You're not getting away that easily. You said and I quote, that you killed Supervillain to get revenge for me."

"Did you seriously say 'and I quote?'"

"Answer my question."

The villain stared consideringly at the hero, and it almost seemed as if they were going to comply. "I don't remember you asking a question."

"Did you get soft?" the hero pushed. "Did I melt your cold heart and now you have warm, fuzzy--"

"No!" the villain yelled. "As if I would get feelings for you."

"Wow, harsh," the hero replied, a little hurt. "Is me being a hero turning you off that much?"

"It's not about you being a hero," the villain hissed. "I couldn't care less about that. It's about your little holiday jaunt forcing me to take over a criminal empire!"

The hero gaped. "I'm sorry, what?"

"I killed Supervillain!" the villain shouted. "That means every one of their supporters and whoever else who wanted their position is going after me now."

"I-I'm sorry?" the hero stuttered, not sure if they were actually to blame but knowing better than to voice that out loud. "Do you...do you want to go on a date?" they blurted.

The villain raised a brow. "A date."

The hero winced. "Yes, a date. For compensation?"

The silence stretched long enough for the hero to nearly take back the offer.

"A date," the villain repeated, this time a little manic. "Yeah, why not? A date with a hero..."

"Is that a 'yes?'"

"Yes," the villain said, finally allowing themselves a small smile.

#prompt fill #heroes and villains #hero x villain

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glorianamultistan · 11 months

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I do not own the image.

I will be uploading more soon; this has been in my drafts for over six months. P.S.:- you can support me by buying me a coffee; link's on my page.

Lee Know x Male Reader

Part 1

Summary: Prince Lee Know has fallen for Y/n.

It was early morning, around 4 am, when Lee Know was sure that no one was following him; he departed towards the left wing of the manor, the ones where the guest rooms were located.

Y/n felt a light knock on his door and before he could ask who it was, the prince slipped in.

'Your Royal Highness!?' y/n whispered as he got up from his bed and felt a bit embarrassed because he was not in a very presentable state.

'Ah! You are up! Great! Let's go, we need to go to the lake; it will take some time. You wanted to look at the sunrise. So let's go.' Lee Know stated as if all this was a preplanned enterprise.

'Uhm... But sir. I just said it lightly.' Y/n could not understand how his light comment made the prince be present here at such an hour with all this enthusiasm.

He saw the older flinch a bit and feel a bit out of words, so he just complied with the request and 'You took such measures so early in the morning. I apologize; let me just get ready. Oh, don't worry, I can get ready without helpers, sir. If you could please turn around.'

Lee Know stood there, his face towards the door, with a feeling of restriction in his throat as he heard y/n rustle in and out of the clothes.

Lee Know was restless the whole night. He saw y/n for the first time last year at a ball held by his cousin, where the latter was introduced to him with the sole intention of a matrimonial alliance between the l/n and Lee families, both being two of the few most powerful ones in the southern region of the kingdom.

Lee family was also a branch of the royal family, with princes and princesses ornamenting the upcoming generation of family heads. So Lee Know, or Prince Lee Know, was an heir to the titles and extravaganza, and he knew how to use them to get the work he wanted to be done.

Y/n, on the other hand, was an honorable person, not with high titles, as he was not the direct heir and had three elder siblings. But it was truth universally acknowledged that he was the best catch out of all his siblings and hence was courted by a legion of princes and dukes and marquises and all the remaining titles of the realm, even the high-ranking government officials of the other nations and royalties of other empires wanted to have him as their son-in-law.

Why? Just because he was blessed with the supreme combination of mind and grace. He was, at his current age of 23, already an established author and a formal martial artist. He was mannered like no other person, full of the right protocols and courtesies. He was the gem the crowns of all the empires lacked. And, he was utterly clumsy and naive to love approaches to the level of irritation for his suitors.

'We can leave now, sir.' Lee Know turned around to see y/n in casual wear for a walk; he was still affected too much. 'Uh, yeah, let's go, let me, yes, just okay, let's go.' 'But this is my room, sir; I should be the one closing the door.' 'But I insist.'

So, y/n stood in the hallway as the prince closed the door and walked down the few engraved steps that his room had to them, a medieval design.

'Were you comfortable in the room? I got it arranged for you, especially because you like cozier spaces.' 'It is an honour, sir, that you took such measures for me.' Yes, y/n clearly has no idea that they met last year as a probable couple; his parents never notify him of such occurrences as he gets anxious and is not able to present himself. So now, it's the prince's turn to think that y/n is not interested in him and probably thinks of this all as a once-in-a-while opportunity.

'Will you be comfortable on the same horse, or do you want a separate one? Or do you want to drive there? I can ask for the cars too if you don't like horse rides.' Lee Know asked repeated questions to ensure he asserted that he was doing it all for the younger's comfort.

'I have no complaints about sharing the horse, sir.' Y/n liked such escapist endeavours. He was surprisingly cheerful this morning to go and look at the sunrise properly. He had heard of the majestic view of the sunrise which the lake of the Lee manor had. It was sublime, in his older brother's words.

The lake was situated in the little valley formed by ancient hills now eroded to moors. Here the duo reached just a few minutes before the sun was about to emerge through the horizon, and so there was a hazy lavender-maroon sky waiting for them.

'It is indeed sublime.' Y/n whispered. 'Huh?' Lee Know looked at the boy looking over to the climbing sun. Rays shined over them softly, and a light breeze ruffling the long hair of y/n made Lee Know to realise that he might actually have fallen a bit too hard.

What was to be done now? The sun was roping up, and the firmament shone, and so did the face of the younger, watching it all with awe as the mist started to clear up. Lee Know knew he had to take them back before breakfast, but he did not have enough courage to disturb the scene in front of him.

'Uhm, we-we should head back now, we need to be present there for breakfast, or your brother would think I kidnapped you.'

'Yes sir, we must hurry. I don't want to be caught slipping out like this.' There it was again; Lee Know felt a jab at heart; was he really not going to even get a chance?

#kpop x male reader #male reader #kpopidol #kpopgay #fanfiction #gay #gaypop #male idol x male reader #kpop #bottom reader #stray kids x male reader #skz x male reader #lee know x male reader #young royals

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anakinsafterlife · 1 month

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Thoughts on Dune Part 2

All right, friends. Dune Part 2. I absolutely picked the wrong time to start wanting to return to Tumblr, since I'm currently in the thick of Ramadan, but c'est la vie. I'm a bit worried that if I don't review now that I might forget my specific impressions of the movie, though I have to say that if this weren't Ramadan that I absolutely would be going back to see it again in the cinema, which says a lot considering that it's been at least ten years since I've actually wanted to go back and repeat a film instead of just waiting for it to come out on streaming/DVD.

So the movie is good. It is in fact very, very good. It's the Empire Strikes Back of the Dune duology (possibly trilogy), and (much like Empire) in terms of cinematography, music, scripting and acting it's nearly flawless. There are, however, issues, things that might not occur to a majority-Western audience but which are immediately clear to anyone who either comes from an Arab or Muslim background.

What follows here is a deep dive into some of the historical and cultural sources of Dune and some of the ways in which the movie producers, and in some cases fans, have failed to acknowledge those sources.

First of all, it's obvious that the Fremen are meant to be based on the Arabs, but of the the entire main cast there is only ONE actor with an Arab background, and that is Souhaila Yacoub, the half-Tunisian actress who plays Shishakli, the female Fremen warrior who is executed by the Harkonnens. Now, I have to say that this woman was fantastic. Her attitude is completely on point for an Arab, especially a North African Arab: forceful, loud, a bit brash and mocking even under fire. Nicely done. Points to the producers there, but I have to take that point away again because she is literally the only Space Arab who is actually Arab. Javier Bardem, the Spanish actor who plays Stilgard, does have some interesting moments and one of the reasons why I feel that the screenwriters were advised on Arabic traditions/culture. The incident during which he warns Paul about the Jinn in the desert like it's a joke but then immediately turns extremely serious when Paul starts smiling is so in character for an Arab and honestly just a brilliant bit of scripting, but much of the time he also acted more or less like what people *think* a fanatical religious Arab acts like--loud, frantic and unstable.

Not only this, but the "Muslim" behaviour/traditions in the film are at best...vague. People are praying, but in any direction at all. I do realize that this would be a complicated issue on another planet, where the Ka'aba couldn't be pointed to, but there are Islamic rulings for EVERYTHING. Check out the one about praying in space:

Even if they had as a society simply picked a random direction for prayer, they should all be praying at the same time and in the same direction (they seem to do this in larger crowds, but not in the smaller group where we first see people praying). They also definitely shouldn't be talking during prayer or trying to make other people talk to them during prayer (as Chani does), since talking breaks your prayer and you have to start over all over again (during obligatory prayers).

Language, too, is an issue, and a big one, because while I do understand that a conlang was developed for use in this movie, the linguists consulted did know that the language was meant to be heavily influenced by Arabic. Consequently, they've included a lot of fragmentary Arabic in their work. Unfortunately this Arabic is poorly pronounced at best, to the point where I was looking words up and laughing at what they're meant to be based on. For example, "Shai Hulud," the word for the Worms, is based on the Arabicشيء خلود, which means "immortal thing," and should be pronounced with "shai" rhyming with "say" followed by a glottal stop, and the 'h' in "Hulood" is actually a guttural sound like the infamous "ch" in Bach, followed by a long U. Another example is Mua'dib مهذب , a real word in Arabic that means "teacher," but is is actually pronounced with a "th" sound instead of a d and emphasis on the second syllable, not on the last as in French. (Note: I made an error here. There is a word مؤدب , pronounced mostly the same in the movie, but with a glottal stop after the 'u' sound and a short 'i' after the d sound rather than a long vowel, that is usually used to mean polite, urbane, gentlemanly, etc. but which can also mean teacher, although I have never heard it used in this context) "Usul", أصول, Paul's other Fremen name, was likely not, as I had previously guessed, based on the word "Rasool," meaning Prophet, but on أصول الفقه the Principles of islamic Jurisprudence, which also ties directly into a religious/prophetic them. Again, this is pronounced on the long vowel, so with a short first U and a long second U.

I've included the Arabic spellings in here, by the way, so that you can drop them into Google translator and hear how they actually sound.

Now, I do realize that the story itself is set 8000 years in the future and that spoken Arabic as a language would have changed considerably in that time, if it existed still at all, but Arabic is a liturgical language as well as a vehicle for conversation, and Muslims all across the world today use it as a tool for worship. Muslims who have no cultural connection with Arabic often still learn it in order to connect more deeply with religious traditions and simply to perform prayers and other religious duties. Religious scholars consider it to be a necessary duty of the Muslim to learn at least some Arabic:

And keep in mind that the Arabic spoken today across the MENA region is very different (and different in different places) to the Arabic spoken 1400 years ago by the Prophet Mohamed (peace be upon him). Given Islamic traditions, the chances of the Fremen using liturgical/classical Arabic for their worship would be quite high, even if their spoken language had evolved past the point of being recognizably Arabic.

Keep in mind, also, that Dune as a whole is an allegory for colonialism, economic exploitation of poorer nations (or making rival nations poor through the same), as well as dehumanization of the views and needs of native peoples in order to make that exploitation palatable to the occupying forces (I thought that this was done quite smartly in Jessica's part of the story; although she is sympathetic to the Fremen, she feels that manipulating their religious traditions is the best way to protect her son, and in doing so she allows herself to dehumanize the people who come to rely on her).

It is, therefore, incumbent upon us not to distance ourselves too much from the intended message by claiming that Dune is fiction and need not too accurately reflect the culture and religion of the people that the Fremen are so clearly based on. The fact that the producers have done little to hire Arab actors or induced any real effort to accurately pronounce the Arabic words or accurately portrayal Islamic practices seems to indicate that they are concerned about identifying too closely with the economic and cultural struggle between East and West, properly because they fear the potential economic backlash, and this despite the fact that Frank Herbert clearly wrote his book to illustrate the fallout of that struggle.

Here is a wonderful article written by a culturally Arab woman:

There are numerous other articles addressing the same issues, but I like this one because it's written by a Muslim woman, who also addresses the "hijab cosplaying" in the movie. I didn't get into that much, but I definitely recognize that it's a problem when Muslim women worry about potential violence while wearing hijab in the streets of Western nations, but the same article of clothing is fetishized in movies and fashion.

I've also seen some comment about the Mahdi mention in particular. This is a saviour-figure in Islam who will come near the end of the world. There is no emphasis on this figure in Sunni Islam, but Shias seem to have a significant body of literature concerning this figure and, from what I understand, believe that he may perhaps have already come, and so there has been some poor reception in that community to applying the label of Mahdi to Paul. Criticisms ranging from insensitivity to outright blasphemy have been levelled regarding this usage. Now, there was some tip-toeing around the prophetic theme in Dune, and rightly so, I believe, since the Prophet Mohamed is the "seal of the prophets" in Islam, meaning the last and final. The fact that Paul was essentially set up as a false prophet by the Bene Gesserit does avoid some of the potential fallout from this, and also makes sense of Chani's rejection at the end of the film, since she felt strongly about Paul acting as a false Prophet.

Again, I am aware that there is internal cosmology within the series itself, and that some fans object to the religion of the Fremen being referred to as Islam, but when the inspiration for the entire ethnicity, religion, and the natural resources at stake are as clear as they are in this series, it's also futile to expect that people will not draw those associations, nor that people belonging to the religion or ethnic group in question may not acknowledge the beauty of the movie, the gorgeous cinematography, rousing music, and tightly plotted story, but still take exception to what is clearly Orientalism.

And it is frankly such a shame that we have to place this movie under that header, because the story of Dune is so sympathetic to the Middle East and its peoples, and as I said in the beginning I actually loved the film and found it very beautiful. It was also exciting to see Islamic themes used creatively in mainstream media, but while Frank Herbert clearly wrote the story as an exposition on the exploitation of natural resources, particularly oil, in the MENA region, the truth is that the racism and exploitation that he was protesting are very much alive today and contribute to the oppression of millions. It's particularly disappointing to see the message of the movie sail over the heads of people watching it when Arab Muslims in Palestine are being dehumanized and obliterated at this very moment, and while Libya was one of the latest Arab nations to be targeted for its oil resources, only a decade ago, with European oil companies moving in directly after the downfall of Ghadafi (which makes the timing extremely suspicious, one might say):

And even after the US finished their occupation of Iraq, Western oil companies remained en mass to continued drilling:

Egypt to this day remains economically destabilized while Western nations exploit its oil stocks, to no benefit at all of its peoples:

I'm sure I could cite dozens of other cases, but it's clear that there is a one-on-one parallel between spice melange and oil, making any protests of apoliticism in an inherently political story utterly vain.

I could go on, but I needn't. In short, this beautiful movie could have done so much good even beyond its obvious artistic merits, but instead it is still towing the political line. Much as was the case for Jessica and Paul, sometimes you can be a Harkonnen and not know it.

#dune #dune part 2 #meta #islam #arabic #history #orientalism #paul atreides #lady jessica #chani kynes #oil drilling #colonialism #arrakis #north africa #the middle east

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vaguely-concerned · 2 years

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-another layer of 'ow ah ouch' to everything pyrrha says about lyctorhood in nona the ninth is that she and g1deon may very well have been the first necro-cav duo to have done it fully mutually consensually, eyes open. it's heavily implied mercy and augustine had their hands forced by cristabel and alfred and wouldn't have done it otherwise ("I have built a myriad on the idea that I could have talked him out of it, given five minutes"), and they're the first and second saints... g1deon's the third. he and pyrrha presumably saw what it did to mercy and augustine, and they still decided to go through with it.

I WILL REMEMBER THE FIRST TIME YOU KISSED ME—YOU APOLOGISED—YOU SAID, I AM SORRY, DESTROY ME AS I AM, BUT I WANT TO KISS YOU BEFORE I AM KILLED, AND I SAID TO YOU WHY, AND YOU SAID, BECAUSE I HAVE ONLY ONCE MET SOMEONE SO UTTERLY WILLING TO BURN FOR WHAT THEY BELIEVED IN, AND I LOVED HIM ON SIGHT, AND THE FIRST TIME I DIED I ASKED OF HIM WHAT I NOW ASK OF YOU

imagine the extra weight over the years in knowing you chose this. at least augustine can cling to that desperate fantasy world where he did stop alfred in time, but pyrrha and g1deon thought they knew exactly what they were doing. they thought it was love. john let them think that was love.

-...do you think mercymorn and augustine begged john for the same thing harrow did, after? Please, undo what I've done, Lord. I will never ask anything of you ever again. (Also one of my all time favorite Harrow moments where she gets to ask the question they aren't allowed to for ten thousand years: How dare you ask me to live with it?) did he comfort them? tell them he's so incredibly sorry, but he needs them?

at least pyrrha’s understanding of how the process works does corroborate his claim that he can’t extract a cavalier’s soul from their necromancer's after the lyctorhood is complete without destroying both souls, which I guess makes for the one thing he isn’t totally lying about lol. though while referencing their own situation paul tells ianthe there's still hope for her and naberius, a duo where the soul absorption did seem to complete, which suggests another layer here john might not know about (out of lack of interest?) or doesn't want anyone else to find out about.

actually let's reexamine some things from the Gideon the Ninth epilogue now in light of Nona I'm on a roll here:

-[God] said, "I know you became a Lyctor under duress."

"Some may call it duress," said Harrow.

"You aren't the first," said the Emperor.

screaming. howling. clawing at him like a wild animal. the two people who have loved you the most, and you stood by and watched as this happened to them, as you engineered it to happen to them, you've seen up close what it did to them, and now you're repeating the process with new children a myriad later without a blush. you suck so bad john I have no words fhksajfhsa.

-"I have three teachers for you. And a whole universe for you to hold on to, for just a little while longer."

a) oh yeah just wait for those three teachers they're a real barrel of laughs they probably won't even try to repeatedly murder you or anything lmao and b) what's that supposed to mean john. 'for just a little while longer'. why does it only have to be a little while longer. as far as I can tell you're no closer to the fullness of your revenge than ever. does it have anything to do with 'good morning, annabel' and 'it gets dirty, you clean it again'?

So, the universe was ending. Good. At least if she failed here, she would no longer have to be beholden to anybody.

could this also be some kind of foreshadowing? from the dialogue on page here harrow's conclusion that the universe is, for sure, ending is not necessarily a natural conclusion (john only speaks of the empire slowly dying) so like... does pre-lobotomy harrow know something we don't? or is it just that she's the saddest person anyone's ever seen pre-nona seeing gideon? (most heartbreaking shade of drift compatability discovered :') )

-He said presently, "Most of my Lyctors have been destroyed by a war I thought best to fight slowly, through attrition. I have lost my Hands -- not just to death. The loneliness of deep space takes its toll on anyone, and the necrosaints have all put up with it for longer than anybody should ever be asked to bear anything. That's why I wanted only those who had discovered the cost, and were willing to pay it in the full knowledge of what it would entail."

so... in the same way g1deon and pyrrha decided to pay that price willingly, then. I am 100% calling bullshit on him here, though, because if any of that had been his real intentions he would have taken at least a modicum of time and energy to write ANYTHING to that effect in the invitations haha. but I think he does recognize in some way that mercy and augustine are burning out under the ten thousand years he's asked of them, like cytherea just did, and maybe mistakenly thinks g1deon is handling it better, because his and pyrrha's decision seemed more informed/less coerced? loveday always knew it was her life or cytherea's, after all, that wasn't ever a real choice either. huh.

-god, harrow literally states all her (frankly very modest and doable) goals and needs to him -- to return to the ninth at least once, to find her cavalier's body, and to figure out what happened to the other survivors of canaan house -- and once she is incapable of remembering them........ he does fucking NOTHING to remind her or help her follow up on any of them fhsdkajfhasdkj I am losing it! at least there is the delicious irony that he could have saved himself a massive headache if he had helped her with any of these, so his own fecklessness and narcissism is its own punishment in this case I suppose lmao

-another observation: harrow is not as deferential or worshipful towards God in this epilogue as she will be in HtN or beyond. she's angry with him! she's kind of sharp and a bit rude, even! she seems more to feel begrudgingly beholden to him because fair enough he is god I guess than to emotionally buy into it as sacred service. I wonder how she'll think of him after nona the ninth, now that she knows him so much better and has more of herself too -- ironically my sense from their last scene in nona the ninth is that her worship of him seems to have all but disappeared, but she loves him more, despite uh the everything of him, in all his awfulness. not in that she doesn't recognize him for what he is or that she wants his approval anymore, she's grown so far past him already, but I do think there's still love there. 'I still love you' is the real power he has, I guess

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #nona spoilers #nona the ninth #ntn spoilers #pyrrha dve #gideon the first #john gaius #harrowhark nonagesimus #mercymorn the first #augustine the first #this is just how my life works right now I'll sit around innocently and then just BAM locked tomb thoughts sparking in my brain

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sashi-ya · 2 years

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𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 ♡ ᴅᴀʏ 25 ➡ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 & 𝐅𝐔𝐍. nsfw .minors dni 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐒𝐢𝐫. 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐱 𝐠𝐧! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍: 𝚂𝚒𝚛 𝙲𝚛𝚘𝚌𝚘𝚍𝚒𝚕𝚎 𝚡 𝙶𝚗! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟸𝟻? 𝙰𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎! 𝐓𝐰: nsfw. reader is completely gn! since there is no genitalia description I tried to be as generic as possible. thigh riding. dom! croco. bratty! reader. thank u to @the-witch-of-one-piece for the main idea 💖 𝐰𝐜: 787 ➡ hentober masterlist

Every day, your beloved Sir works hard to keep his empire of casinos running smoothly and giving him endless amounts of money… but, you are horny. You want him now. A busy businessman like him doesn’t have time to play with his little sweetheart, but you are there, standing right at the door of his office.

“Sir… I wanna have fun…” you purr, fidgeting with the hem of your long shirt. He is so into what he is reading on his pc that he didn’t notice you at first. The light of his laptop shine on his horizontal scar over his nose and a blueish reflection blurs his eyes.

“Sir! I wanna have fun with you!” you repeat, this time louder. He sighs, and takes his glasses off before looking at you wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt that’s actually his.

Crocodile scans you from head to toe, taking some time to enjoy the way your thighs shily peek under the clothes. “Honey, I’m busy right now. We will have time to have fun at night, I promise” he says. A deep voice that can only make you hornier rather the opposite.

You stop once over the carpet covered floor of his manor. “No. I want to have fun with you now, Sir… please? I-“ you whine, almost like a child throwing a tantrum. A brat behaviour Crocodile both enjoys but also gets him on his nerves.

He massages his temple and plays with his lonely lock of hair over his face. The man is thinking about any way to both give you what you want but him finishing the huge amount of work he has.

“Alright, come here” he orders, patting his lap. You give a little excited jump and run to sit over his legs. “Thank you, my Sir” you purr, nuzzling on the crook of his neck. The scent of his strong perfume mixed with hints of tobacco hits your nose and it makes you smile, that’s him. And you are his.

You start kissing his neck, up and down, waiting for his hand to do more after landing on the small of your back. “Sir…?” you ask, at this point feeling your sex beating and so ready for love.

“Listen you little brat, I have to finish this. You wanna have fun? Then hump on my leg” he commands, so serious, sending shivers down your spine when his hand pushes softly against his body since it’s over your ass now.

You pout, you wanted him to touch you, to stimulate you. “Bu-t…” you protest. “No buts, if you come that way I will fuck you then. Also, try to be as quiet as possible… do you think you can do that for me? I wanna see you hump, though… come on, show me”

At this point you feel like bursting, and, if he is commanding you to ride his thigh you will have to do it… “all right ~” you moan, right next to his ear. And, slowly, your hips begin to move back and forth and then softly humping too as he makes his leg bounce.

Your sex instantly responds to such stimulation, making you wet, hard, throbbing. Oozing arousal drops of honeys, getting yours and his clothes a little damp and sticky.

You try to contain the whimpers that are pleading to abandon your lips, but Crocodile has asked you to keep it quiet. And, while he keeps reading a lustful smirk draws over his lips.

“Very well you little brat, keep going…” he whispers from time to time, brushing your hair and helping you move even faster by lifting your ass with his hand. A hand that shows how much of a wet mess you are making over his leg, and he loves it. No trouser is expensive enough not to be ruined by your concupiscence.

And, because your sex has had enough it starts to show you how climax becomes closer to be reached. And your lower belly muscles spasm, and your core too, and you can’t keep it quietly any more, any longer.

“I’m gonna cu-cum…” you whimper, this time panting hard and going harder over his leg. “Go on, come on…” he scoffs, closing the lid of his laptop to pay complete attention to your orgasming face.

Sir Crocodile traps your moans with his own lips, as you come, trembling, quivering, putting your eyes white. A climax that will be lasting longer than expected since now he has lifted you up and placed you over his desk.

“Now, let me give you what I promise… do you remember me telling you I was going to fuck you if you came over my lap?” “Ye-s yes Sir ~”

#crocodile x reader #crocodile #crocodile x you #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile one piece #sir crocodile imagine #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece fanfic #one piece fan fiction #hentober #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #one piece smut

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autumnslance · 3 months

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Gaius and Varis

Trying to think of a proper annotated post about how "Gaius being mad about watching Varis get murdered in front of him isn't really a 'gotcha' on how much he has/hasn't changed or is/isn't a terrible person still."

Gist is that watching someone you've known for decades--probably watched grow up, worked alongside, or even mentored (given the 10 year age diff), feel some sense of kinship to and obligation for, even if they are themselves terrible and have fallen off the deep end, especially after living your whole lives in the same crappy abusive system that you're only just starting to see how mucked up it was on purpose--get murdered in front of you while powerless to stop it (like how he was powerless to stop Lahabrea casting Ultima) is going to be upsetting, regardless of how else you're feeling about everything going on and how much you might be changing, or have changed already.

And it's another step on the road toward further changes cuz now what, when the plan to expedite stopping all these terrible things by going to the top and using your familiarity to try and reason with the Emperor has been thwarted by a murderhobo who's picked up Ascian powers of his own?

Human emotions are complicated enough when we have to deal with death in our own real lives (hopefully not often, or responsible for others, or unable to prevent those around us). There's difficult relationships all over.

Amp it up in fiction for some morally dubious characters in wild situations for the drama, and it's getting more complex.

And I've touched on Gaius's reaction before too, in a paragraph in another post response. So maybe I don't need to repeat too much more there.

That doesn’t mean it was an immediate or easy road, which Werlyt is a more recent and visible part of. Nor that he’s less of a patriot who wants to fix what’s wrong with his homeland (especially after finding out how they’ve all been toys of the Ascians for the better part of a century). Nor discounts the fact that he would have known and fought beside Varis as a soldier and fellow Legatus, and probably respected him. It doesn’t negate his respect for the position of Emperor, which defined much of Gaius’ younger life and why his custom weapon is named Heirsbane. I don’t see being upset by Varis’ assassination in front of his face as a contradiction to his growth; if anything, it may have hastened some of his change, with the Empire in utter disarray and the nobles and Legati tearing the place apart for sheer greed and power for awhile.

#final fantasy xiv #shadowbringers #Gaius Baelsar #Varis zos Galvus #Garlemald

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geekywritings · 11 months

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The stories that scars can tell

You guys are incredible! Just as I am working through last week’s requests, there are already new ones in my inbox. Thank you again for all your inspiration and encouragement. And of course, all requests will get a story!

But first, here is another one from last week: “You icon, it’s your fav anon again hehehe. So you are the best place to req for Cal so here’s another one 🤭 Cal x reader who has scars and he accidentally psychometry on one and he learns about her traumatic past and the comfort is reallll???”

_________

Cal had always been an early riser, while you preferred to stay in bed just that little bit longer. Now, after you had got together, the Jedi began to lounge in the mornings as well, enjoying that extra bit of time by your side.

He would busy himself studying your face or just closing his eyes to enjoy the feel of your warm body against his until you woke up. It was like a new form of meditation that offered him more calmness and happiness than he had ever thought possible.

This morning however was going to be different. You were still asleep, your nude body cuddled into Cal’s, as he drew lazy circles over your back. He could feel the traces of old scars there, some more faded than others. You were both fighters in this war, so your bodies were bound to carry the marks, but many of yours were older.

You had never spoken of their origin and Cal had never asked, knowing well that some things were better left to rest in the past. Still, sometimes he couldn’t help but wonder what your life had been like before meeting him. Before the rebellion. Before the fall of the Republic.

And just like that, his special Force power activated against his will, as his finger glided over a particularly long scar going from your shoulder down your back.

He found himself in a dark world of metal and strobe lights. Nar Shadaa? Corellia? It was hard to tell. Besides, something else quickly drew his attention. The agonizing screams of a girl, maybe 13 or 14 years old, as she knelt in a puddle of spilled drinks on the ground, shattered glass all around her. It was you, he realized. A younger version of you, to be exact.

“I told you to be more careful!” a tall man behind you yelled, as he hit you repeatedly with his belt. “You are the most useless slave ever! I should just sell you! It would be good riddance!”

Cal’s entire body was shaking with anger and disgust. And instantly, he forced himself to pull away from the vision. As much as he would have liked, he couldn’t pull his lightsaber at the man. An echo was just that, a replay of past events with no way to change them.

“What did you see?”

Your soft voice drew him back into the present and guilt filled him, as if he had invaded your privacy.

“I know that look on your face. You had one of those Force visions.” He had tried explaining them to you and while you could never fully grasp how they worked, you had come to know when they happened.

“I am sorry, Y/N… I didn’t mean to…”, he began, the guilt carrying in his voice.

“It’s alright. I know you can’t always control it… What did you see?”, you ended up repeating your question.

“I saw you being beaten… over spilled drinks.”

“Yes, my Master did that quite often.”

“You… were a slave?”, Cal asked hesitantly and you nodded. It wasn’t something you liked talking about, but it was no secret either. And especially the man you loved deserved to know.

“But slavery was forbidden…”

“The Republic didn’t have its eyes everywhere, Cal. And it wasn’t perfect. It tolerated more bad things than you and I can imagine…”, you spoke, adjusting your position, so that you could look at Cal better. “But the Empire is even worse.”, you tacked on, explaining why you were fighting for a Republic that had let you suffer.

“I never knew… I was so blind to a lot of things…” It was something the Jedi learned anew every day. How sheltered his life at the Temple had been. How much the war had covered. How many problems had been left unchecked because there was nobody to take care of them.

“We have the chance to make things better. That’s why we fight, right?” It was the reason you fought, at least.

Instead of answering, Cal pulled you into his arms, holding you close and burying his face in your hair. “I won’t let anyone treat you like that again. I promise.”, he whispered to you and you smiled, a hand gently playing with the hair on the nape of his neck. “We will make things better.”, he added on a vow. “For us. For everyone.”

You had no idea how you would manage that. You were but a handful of rebels against the might of an Empire. But right then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered were Cal’s arms around you, making you feel safe, protected and loved.

“We will, Cal. But for now, just kiss me.” And he gladly did.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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izukuwus · 6 months

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Boiling Point 4: Finale - Miguel O'Hara x Reader (NSFW)

First - Prev - M.list - Ao3

A/N: by the power of banana pudding rum we got there. thanks for waiting and please enjoy!

Summary: We reach the part where you get what you want.

Notes: smut. this is the part with actual sex for real. uh biting mentions, blood drawn, etc.

Word Count: 2800

None of this has exactly been how you expected this night to go.

At any turn, you were expecting something else. Not eating sandwiches atop the Empire State building and sipping fountain drinks while you floated, quite frankly thinking you were out of your damn mind and dreaming some truly deranged shit, as Miguel acted exactly like normal in response to having discovered that your sex drive is basically controlled by whether or not he breathes in the same room as you on a given day.

By the time you've nearly finished your drink and near pulling off the lid to crunch the ice, mostly to have something to do with your mouth other than fuck up, Miguel lets out a heavy sigh.

Honestly, you're still stuck on the part where he knows. Clearly he's somewhere miles past you, speaking frankly, as though this is a normal conversation to be having. Just a Spiderman and the Spider belonging to this version of New York, far above the ground. You stare at the stars while he stares at the streets below.

"Are you understanding anything I've said to you? I'm starting to think you're not."

The ice cube cracks in your teeth. You spit it back into your cup to respond. "It's more like I think I'm being punked right now."

"Punked?" he repeats back. You wonder if that's because that's not a thing in Nueva York, or if it's because the idea is so stupid that he can't believe you've put it into the world in the first place. (It is, in fact, a little bit of both.)

You double down, because that is your best quality. "Yeah. Like, tricked? Pranked? You're sitting here having taken me out for chicken sandwiches in response to—hell, I don't think I can make myself say it out loud, but anyways you are Miguel O'Hara and it takes all the work in the world to not think of you by your full name every time because you're just that fucking amazing."

He lets you go on, watches you as you watch the stars. You pause to crunch another ice cube before continuing. "Like, I'm not sorry for thinking you're the hottest thing to walk any Earth. I am sorry you found out, because I can see how that would be uncomfortable to discover, but like. You are hot. I could go into excruciating detail, if you'd like, but I think that's a bit too much, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm trying to be, like, normal?"

"You're not any less normal than anyone else we’ve brought into the multiverse," he says. "I am now completely convinced that you haven't been listening to anything I've said, though."

“I haven’t… not been listening?”

“Okay. Then, what have I been telling you?”

You thoughtfully crunch another ice cube.

“…shit.”

He sighs. “Okay, let’s take it from the top. I was hoping you would figure out you were being an idiot before you sent yourself spiraling directly into sub drop, but that clearly didn’t happen. As fun as it’s been watching you drive yourself insane, this isn’t how I wanted to see you fall apart.”

“…okay.” He’s watching your every movement, and you, in turn, are trying to control each one, down to whatever microexpressions you can. Part of you wants to cry from the embarrassment of it all. But dammit, you are not sitting at the top of this building to cry for once. “So… how did you want to see me fall apart?”

“I can show you.”

Please hold. Buffering.

“Okay!” It comes out a squeak, but this is not a man who has the time to let you cringe, apparently, because you’re suddenly being bodily lifted from your perch, your trash nearly forgotten except your quick thinking to web it to you. Responsible superheroes don’t leave their trash on skyscrapers.

“Limits?” he says as he carries you, so easily for a man only using one hand.

“What?”

“What are your limits? Dirty talk, biting…”

Oh. Your face flares hot. I think you’re finally starting to get it. Good for you. “Um. I don’t… like… assplay?”

He nods, not even looking down at you. That’s fair. He’s a little occupied with the web-swinging right now. Actually, it’s kind of fun to be carried like this, rather than being the one doing all the work. You should find some way to con him into carrying you around like this again sometime.

“I can work with that. Anything else?”

“Um… normally I like degradation, but maybe not right now?”

“Makes sense. Safeword?”

You’ve suddenly forgotten every semblance of a safeword you’ve ever known. Good going. 10/10.

“Pumpkin,” you blurt.

“Pumpkin?”

“Pumpkin.”

“You didn’t just make that up on the spot, did you?”

“Not that you can prove.”

He lets out a soft huff, more felt than heard, and lands on the roof of your building. “Not sure I want your neighbor listening in.”

Ah. Yeah. That… huh.

(You are so fucking eloquent.)

You flash a grin. “Yeah, uh, I think he’s been doing that for a while. I might move, actually. When I can afford it. Do you think this is… better?”

He sighs. “No. But I need a moment.”

“Oh, okay, I can—“

His lips crash down on yours, and fuck it, this clearly isn’t real, so of course you’re going to moan against his lips and kiss him right back. He’s so much bigger than you—all muscles and hard lines and, when he pulls back and you open your eyes, deep red eyes and sharp teeth.

He must like something he sees in the way his eyes roam over you, because he groans and drops his head a bit. “Do you have any idea how difficult it’s been to not think about taking you like this?”

“Like what?” You do your best to sound innocent. It does something, a fact you’re proud to state you know from the way his clawed fingertips suddenly flex into your flesh.

…he is going to completely destroy you.

You, for one, are fully prepared for that outcome.

…probably.

Making out on the rooftop becomes making out in your bedroom becomes Miguel getting you out of your Spider suit in record time. (Maybe you’ll ask him for pointers after this, all things considered.) At least you’re not the only one getting surprised today—when he gets your top half bare and finds your tits bouncing free, not a bra in sight, there’s a growl passing his lips that leaves you shuddering.

“No bra?” His hand hovers over your breasts, as though waiting for permission.

You press your chest forward, right into his waiting hands. “Built into the suit.”

“That’s… dangerous.” His eyes are dark as they fixate on you, on the way your soft curves squish in his hands. “Have you ever worn a bra under the suit?”

You laugh, wrap your arms around his shoulders. “No, sir, I haven’t. You find me a stretchy spandex that doesn’t show every line underneath and then we’ll talk about bras and underwear.”

Without another word, he grabs at the rest of the suit bunched around your waist and yanks down. You yelp as you move with the suit, as you go from “superhero” to “ass-naked” in one fell swoop. That’s just unfair.

Dark eyes search your face, just a moment, just long enough for him to take in wide eyes and flushed cheeks. Whatever he’s looking for, clearly it satisfies him, because his next step is to jerk your hips up and hook your legs over his shoulders.

“So why don’t you tell me a bit about why you thought a contract like that was a good idea?”

You refuse to meet his eyes. Large hands dig into the flesh of your thighs—not painful, not enough to bruise, but enough that you feel the tiniest pricks of his claws threatening to press in.

“Come on, cariño. I wasn’t asking.”

You throw your arms over your face, hide your eyes so you don’t have to look at him when you admit it. “…I kept overheating the motors in my vibrators.”

He startles you with a real, genuine laugh. “Really.”

“Yes!” You jerk to try to face him, which leaves you in a weird half-crunch position. “You’re… a lot, okay? And I’m not, like, constantly constantly thinking about sex, with you or anyone else, but you do shit that gets me started and then I can’t stop and—“

“There you go,” he purrs. “That’s a good girl.”

Your rambling cuts off into a low moan as he buries his face between your thighs at last. His tongue enters your core, his fingers toy with your clit, and he works you up just to the point that you actually contemplate murder when he pulls away.

“Miguel, I can’t keep doing this,” you whine, tears already springing to your eyes in response to yet another denial.

He shushes you, gentle. You do not want gentle.

If we’re being completely honest, if this man does not break you tonight, your body is going to completely atomize itself on the spot.

“Please,” you whine.

He quirks a brow you-ways. Tilts his head. “What are you asking me for?”

“Anything. Need to cum. Please.”

A soft laugh. “You need it?”

“Need it.”

His fingers brush against your core, and you whine out.

“Okay.”

You nearly cry—first at the feeling of his fingers entering you, the promise that this is finally over, you’re finally done breaking toys and breaking yourself just to do something right, now someone else gets to break you—then at how expertly he manages to bring you back to the brim with two thick fingers pumping into your heat.

“There you go. You’re doing so well. So, so well, cariño.”

You smile through your moans, meet his blazing eyes as he works your walls and your clit. You cum hard and fast, writhing around him until he has to put a firm hand down on your stomach to keep you still, and this time, you do cry—from release, from overstimulation, from the fact that you got here and you did it and you did so well.

He doesn’t stop when you stop to catch your breath. The swift removal of his fingers is replaced once again by his mouth, and you cry as he laps up the fluttering remains of your first orgasm in so, so long. A jerk of your hips from the contact has just the barest brush of his fangs teasing against your pussy, just enough to remind you that they’re there and you’re finally, finally getting what you need.

“miguel,” you breathe out in lowercase.

He groans against you, grips your thighs again, and this time he does leave thin red lines behind as he loses himself in your pussy.

The second time you cum, you haven’t quite stopped with the tears from the first. It’s almost everything you’ve dreamed of. You’ve dreamed of some weird shit, though, so basically it’s everything worth dreaming of.

And again he barely stops. He pulls away, yes, when your walls stop spasming around his tongue and your whining drops to low keens, and he repositions himself to fondle your flesh, to smooth a large hand over the plush of your tits and thumb lazily at a single nipple, and when he kisses you, you taste yourself on his lips. But he isn’t done, and he makes quite clear he isn’t done quite quickly.

Lips trail from yours to your neck, and when you reach down in hopes of finding the truth of his cock, he grabs your wrist and nips at your throat.

You do not bother trying to repress the shudder as his teeth graze you.

He sighs, nearly laughs. “You’re seriously turned on by these?” he asks, pulling away to look you in the eye.

“M-mhm. All of you.” Oh dear. You didn’t think you could get stupider, but somewhere between edges, you must have found a shovel and started digging. Poor you. “But I really like teeth. Used to be so into vampires. Werewolves. Anything with big teeth that could wreck me.” Okay, that’s enough. You can stop talking now.

Oh, thank fuck, he took his turn in the conversation. That was getting bad. “Guess you’re lucky, then.”

“So lucky.” You nod.

Another graze of his teeth, and then again he pulls away. Bastard. Like you haven’t been edged enough these past few weeks, through no fault or decision of your own. “You know I can’t bite you, right? Paralytic venom?”

“Like I can move after what you just did to me anyway?”

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll think about it.”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a long time.”

“I can tell.” He leaves you there on the bed, a bit limp from the double orgasm action, and removes his own suit, slow and careful. “Lucky for you, I wasn’t done yet. That was just the prep work.”

“Prep?”

Ah. He’s big. Yeah, okay, that makes sense. Maybe you should have trained for this. He climbs right back on top of you, cock weighty where it rests on your stomach, and kisses you slowly. Almost loving, if you hadn’t known any better.

When he presses into you, it’s a stretch, big and sore and dragging out yet another whine from you. He shushes you gently, like this is something you’re supposed to be able to just push through, but he does and you do and when he bottoms out you’re honestly surprised he fits.

“There you go. There’s a good girl. Still doing good?”

No one here is completely sure whether you’re whimpering because his cock is finally inside of you or because of the pet name, but we’ll just say it was overstimulation and call it a day. You manage a nod, which has him arching his brow and holding very carefully still.

“I need a verbal answer, [name].”

“Still… still doing good. You’re good.”

“Okay.”

One slow, careful thrust turns into two turns into three turns into another, and you have to cling to him and claw just to find some sort of purchase before very long at all. By the time you’ve lost count, it’s more because you’ve lost your mind than anything. The overstim-sore gives way to a delicious stretch, and you’re sure you’re babbling something, though you’re pretty sure it’s just his name. That’s all that’s in your head, anyway.

What you know is this: his grip and his pace become bruising, at your enthusiastic pleading, and he fucks you until you don’t remember whether you came once or twice or stopped until he was done. You know that he pulls out, that he cums across your stomach in thick ropes. You know that he cleans you with a warm, damp cloth, tends carefully to the cuts on your thighs where his claws dug just a touch too deep. When you can sit up, you blearily take the kit from him and dab at the bits on his back where you managed to draw blood. Marks of your own left on his skin.

“You did good. Better than I was expecting, honestly.”

“You’re rude,” you shoot back with a sleepy-sounding laugh. “And big. And good.”

You’re not sure the etiquette here. In the light of no longer being mid-fuck, you cringe at the dance that socialization inevitably becomes. He’ll go back to his universe, and leave you here, and probably send Lyla to let you know of new assignments, but what do you do now except begrudgingly accept the chocolate he shoves in your mouth and make sure the cuts on his back are disinfected?

“Sorry about your thighs. That’ll sting for a while,” he says as you’re busily trying to memorize the muscles on his back.

“I’ll be fine. Quick healing and all that. Um…”

“I’ll do some work to figure out the venom thing, if you were serious about wanting me to bite you.”

“Of course I’m serious!” You squeak. “Your damned fangs were at least two of my casualties that started this whole thing!”

“Casualties?”

You fluster, turn away. “Yeah. Casualties.” A brief pause where it sinks in. “Wait. So you want to… do this again…?”

“Was that not clear? You’re a bright spot in the multiverse. If you’d just stop throwing yourself into stupid shit…”

“Don’t kid yourself. I’m already perfect.”

“You are. I’m still not biting you without being absolutely sure I won’t kill you in the process.”

“Aw, that’s half the fun!”

He gives you a sharp look, and you cringe.

“Right. Yeah, I get it. Feel free to surprise me when you figure it out, though.”

He pulls you into his arms, and in his warmth you feel yourself finally relax a little bit.

“I think I’ll take you up on that one.”

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @yohoe-hoe @ambientcryptidsounds @roxannarichie @vegas-writing-den @cooch1ecruncher @bluepeanutharmony @instanttragedyfire @thesilenthill @topreice @rhae-blackqueen

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As always, thanks for reading! <3

#my fics #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara/reader #reader inserts

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jyndor · 3 months

Text

black lights, spaceships fly

for rebelcaptain fluffbruary st fluffentines day or whatever it's called, have some post-war them in the club where they SHOULD HAVE BEEN fluff

the prompts were lush | camera | beau and I did actually use them all but very ✨️subtly✨️

written while listening to renaissance on repeat for the vibes and the title of course is from cuff it. cross-posted on ao3.

cw for recreational space weed consumption and of course alleged legal real world weed consumption behind the scenes lmao

The driving baseline from the stage reverberates through the floor into the soles of Cassian's feet. He feels his heart thumping in time with the red-haired Zeltron drummer on the drum set. His nose brushes the crown of Jyn's head as she sways in his arms.

The herbal scent of the Marcan joint they'd shared earlier lingers in her hair, and he breathes in deeply, scent memory tossing him back to the walk from the ship and the freshly-rolled cigarette passing from her fingers to his, then burning between his lips, the cherry bright in the humid night air. Kohl-lined green eyes sparkling from the freshly harvested herb in her blood and silent laughter at something Bodhi says to Cinta. Han and Chewie arguing about a failed hustle in the first bar of the night, Shara singing some song she's got stuck in her head at the top of lungs in the middle of the road, the world softening at the edges of his vision, lights dimming and time slowing, and Jyn ripping the joint from his lips and offering it to Bix, and falling behind their friends for a few minutes about two blocks down from the club to make out against a darkened wall-

He blinks back to the present as Jyn kisses the skin of his collarbone where it peeks out of his jacket. She drapes her arms over his shoulders; his hands grip her waist. She pulls away from him to meet his eyes. She's got glitter on her cheekbones and lashes, her hair is damp and curling. There's a flush growing over her skin like a sunrise, the glow of a hot night, pulsing lasers lighting her up in the dark, smoky air.

His mind takes a holopic. Shutter, snap.

This past year has looked good on both of them. Jyn wears peacetime beautifully - not without anxiety, not without grief or pain, but with hope. A little softer in her face, she's not always the best sleeper but neither is he. They sleep better these days.

His rebellion now is accepting joy with a sure hand.

The electric wail of the guitar trembles along his half-metal spine.

What a gift to just be himself again, just Cassian Andor - some guy in a club with his pretty girlfriend pressed close to him, caught up in the sea of other bodies like they've not spent years and years pretending to be anyone else. Both of them desperately hiding behind aliases and alibis. Fighting a war they shouldn't have survived, knee deep in the mud, running from everyone they've had to leave behind, their pasts, their shadows, their losses and now-

Now they get stoned and go out with their friends on some nights. Now he takes the time to properly cook for her and she rolls their joints with the shrub she's been growing in their cabin, the little growth-light hovering over it during the dayshift, and they talk about the weather when they're planetside and watch smashball over caf and have sex with the radio on in their ship's cabin and have friends with couches to sleep on. Planets to explore, cities and rainforests.

They have proper identichips and scandocs with their real names (although they've still got their fakes, just in case). They have a ship and a cat, they have community across the stars.

Sometimes they talk about the future. What they want out of it and what it can provide for them. Separately and together. The work that he still needs to do, work he'll do better with her by his side.

Six years ago he would have never believed he would outlive the Empire, or have a family again, and fuck he's high.

“Happy birthday,” Jyn says. “I'm glad you were born.”

Cassian leans in for a kiss, sighs when he feels her fingers comb through his beard.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks.

He smiles. “That this shit's stronger than I remember.”

“Maybe you just can't keep up anymore, Andor.”

“With you?” He squeezes her waist and pulls her back to his lips. “I think I manage alright.”

“Hmm.” Her eyes are still shut. “Actually I could probably cool down too.”

“I'm saying I can keep up with you,” Cassian mumbles into her cheek, his own eyes drifting shut. He can't stay away, has to engage the rest of his senses to handle her. “I'll keep up with you.”

Jyn makes an amused noise and snuggles into the hollow of his neck. He swallows as her fingers trace up and down the curvature of that half-metal spine. "D'you still want to get married?" His eyes pop open.

"I mean, I-yeah." Cassian huffs. "I'd love to marry you."

"And kids? You still want kids?"

He smiles. "Whatever you want, Jyn."

"Whatever I want," she repeats. "And if I say we're gonna go set up a farm on Lah'mu and raise like a dozen babies and maybe some goats or something?"

"Seems reasonable," he says with a straight face until she snorts. "We can always revisit this conversation later."

#my fic #rebelcaptain #fluffbruary #rebelcaptain fluffbruary

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