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cosmicdahlias · 2 days

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You Know What You Do To Me

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: smut, oral, mdom

i’ve really enjoyed writing these fics! it’s been so long since i’ve been passionate about something like this 😭

It was another afternoon working at the Mystery Shack. You were dusting shelves, thinking about later tonight. You had two jobs, by day you sold overpriced knickknacks for your boss, local con artist Stan Pines, and by night you worked for his brother, Stanford. Before he even came back through the portal you were a big fan of his work, Dipper regularly lent you the journals during your breaks. You pored over the material, longing to meet the author.

When you met him it was a typical day, typical as things get in Gravity Falls. You were helping Soos fix up the place after the town had turned upside down, he filled you in on the cause. A portal, Stan had a brother who had been missing for 30 years, and more importantly this brother was the mysterious author you so desperately wanted to meet.

You were in the process of nailing a shelf back to the wall when you heard a door open behind you. You turned to see a man who looked nearly identical to Stan, but better posture, and somehow… cooler. You knew instantly this must be the man behind the journals. Your heart skipped a beat, not just from the excitement of finally getting to see the author, but because you couldn’t get over how handsome he was.

He looked at you and you felt yourself turn into a puddle. You could’ve sworn you saw his cheeks flush slightly, but convinced yourself you were seeing things.

“OH MY GOD THE AUTHOR IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME!!! BE COOL!!! BE COOL!!!” You thought rapidly.

He made his way over to you and extended a hand to you, six fingers, the symbol on the journal’s cover made so much sense.

“Stanford Pines, you must be one of Stanley’s employees.”

“Y/n. You’re… the author of the journals.”

“You’ve read my journals?”

There it was again, the faintest tint of red on his cheeks.

“Yeah, multiple times. Your nephew lends them to me sometimes. I’ve always been into the weird and paranormal.”

“Well it’s always a pleasure to find someone who appreciates my life’s work.”

In the weeks that followed Ford would ask you to become his assistant. He insisted he was getting too old to do these things on his own. You loved working with him, unraveling the mysteries of this town. It gave you a sense of purpose.

The tension between you two was more than palpable, but neither of you had been willing to admit it to each other yet. Your time together was filled with stolen glances and flushed cheeks.

As you finished dusting a snow globe your mind wandered to your mentor. You had been pushing the limits lately, trying to get his attention. You wore more and more revealing clothes, you would drop your pen just to have an excuse to bend over in front of him, you would find reasons to stand close to him. You could tell it was driving him crazy, he would awkwardly excuse himself and disappear for ten to fifteen minutes, returning breathless.

But you started to think yesterday might have gone too far. You were sitting to the right of him as he was writing in his research notes, you pulled up your skirt slightly, slipping a hand down to your-

“Y/n, can we talk?”

You jumped, Ford had a habit of moving silently. A valuable skill when you’ve spent the last 30 years in other dimensions constantly staring death in the face.

You let your heart rate settle. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good, follow me.” He motioned you with his hand.

You both walked down the stairs to the basement where his lab resided, he turned to face you.

“Look, y/n, I know what you’ve been doing.”

You turned scarlet. You decided to feign ignorance.

“What do you mean?”

He exhaled a deep breath, massaging his temples. “Don’t play this game with me, you know exactly what you’re doing to me. Wearing shorter and shorter skirts, giving me bedroom eyes, finding any reason to bend over in front of me, and then yesterday-” he paused “yesterday you went out of your way to drive me crazy. You sat next to me, hiking up your skirt and you-“

He drew a shuddering breath, stepping awfully close, his chest almost touching yours “teased your clit over your panties, knowing full well you were in my peripherals. And you did that on purpose, stopping whenever I looked your way just to torture me, not letting me savor such a gorgeous view. I thought about you all night, I came with your name leaving my lips. And now-“ he pulled out a chair “you’re going to sit in front of me and touch yourself.”

“Ford-“

“No, you were so eager to do it yesterday, what’s stopping you now?”

You felt yourself grow wet under his words, you sat yourself down in front of him.

“Take off your panties, go ahead, take them off.”

You slipped the fabric down your legs and off your ankles letting them drop to the floor in front of you.

“Spread your legs, let me see you. Pull that skirt up.”

You obeyed his instructions.

“Now, slip a finger in your cunt and use your wetness to stroke your clit.”

You let your finger travel down to your dripping pussy, you traced little circles on your clit. You let out a sigh, Ford was watching you touch yourself, you had dreamed of this.

A growl rumbled in his throat, he watched you hungrily. His cock strained in his pants, he wanted to touch himself, but he couldn’t, not yet. You moaned softly, your brow furrowing in concentration.

“Faster, don’t stop.”

You picked up your pace, rubbing frantically, your moans growing louder, echoing through the lab. You hoped no one upstairs could hear you.

“Tell me how it feels.” He demanded.

“Mmmh, Ford, it feels so good.” You whimpered.

“That’s right, I know it does.”

He stepped close to you, a hand on the back of the chair, looking straight at you. You could smell him, fresh pine and leather. Your breathing became shallow and erratic, you were getting close. Ford could sense it.

“Are you going to cum?”

“Y- yes.”

“Good, look at me.”

You locked eyes with him, he stared at you intently. The feeling on your clit was becoming overwhelming, you were going to cum, dear god you were going to cum for him.

“Nhhh, ah hah, Ford.” You pathetically whimpered out, you couldn’t form a real sentence if you tried.

You felt yourself right on the edge, god you loved this, you loved putting on a show for him, you gritted your teeth in anticipation.

“Stop.”

“Wh- what?”

“You heard me, stop touching yourself.”

You withdrew your hand, your orgasm ruined.

“Why did you- I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been teasing me for weeks, with yesterday being the final straw. Now you’re going to see how it feels. Actions have consequences and you’re going to learn that. You don’t get to cum.”

He pulled you up by your arm, he grabbed your face and kissed you sloppily in pure hunger and desire. He let you go and dropped his hands to his belt buckle, undoing it.

“You need to see what you’re doing to me.”

He slipped his pants down enough to reveal his thick, hard cock. Fuck, he’s big. You bit your lip instinctively.

“Stroke my cock, now.”

You wrapped your hand around his shaft, your thumb massaging the head. He let out a groan of approval and you began pumping his cock. He started kissing and sucking on your neck, he was going to mark you so everyone knew you were his property. He started to buck into your hand, a bead of precum forming at the head. He throbbed, moaning into your neck.

He took your face in his hands again, god you loved when he looked at you.

“Get on your knees and take my cock in your mouth.”

“Yes sir.”

He throbbed at “sir” no one had ever called him that, he liked it. He made a mental note to encourage you to keep saying it.

You dropped to your knees and took his full length in your mouth.

“Fuuuck baby you’re so good at this, no one’s ever taken me all the way down before.”

He grabbed a fistful of hair and began fucking your mouth aggressively. You choked and pulled back. He chuckled.

“Oh poor baby, guess I spoke too soon, I’m sorry sometimes I forget how hard it is to handle a cock like mine.” He taunted while stroking your chin with his thumb. “I’ll try to slow down, it helps if you make an effort to breathe out of your nose.”

He resumed face fucking you, this time with a slightly more gentle rhythm, but you still felt the inclination to gag. You attempted to steadily breathe out of your nose and felt the urge subside. He clenched his jaw and picked up his pace again, you were really struggling to take him, he liked it that way.

His hips stuttered and bucked against your mouth. He could feel his orgasm rising.

“Baby slow down, slow down you’re gonna make me cum.”

You decided to ignore him, continuing to work your mouth on his cock.

“Stopstopstopstop. Stop!” He growled.

He seized your hair and pulled you off of his cock, knocking you backward. He reached out a hand and pulled you to your feet, then raised a hand and brought it down hard on your ass.

“You need to listen to me, next time I won’t be so nice.”

You savored the idea of being left with a six fingered welt. He lowered his hands to your hips and spun you around. He pressed himself against your back, his hard cock throbbing on your ass. His hand gripped your throat and he whispered in your ear.

“I’m going to fuck you senseless until I finish inside of you and you’re not going to cum, do you understand?”

You nodded fervently.

“Good, you’re so cute when you listen.” He said while slipping his thumb in your mouth.

He bent you over his desk, papers falling to the floor, one hand gripping your shoulder, the other on your hip. He pressed the tip of his cock into you before forcing the rest of his length inside of you. You started to scream out in pleasure, but Ford instinctively clasped a hand over your mouth.

He slapped your ass again. “Quiet, stardust, do you want everyone to hear you?”

He began to pump his cock inside of you, his hips slapping against your ass. You tightened around him and he groaned loudly.

“God I love the way your pussy squeezes my cock, it’s so fucking perfect.” He panted between thrusts.

He fucked you with a brutal intensity. He was doing this for his own pleasure, not yours. Like he said, you didn’t get to cum, not after what you had done yesterday. He pulled out and you whined, paused for effect and slammed himself back in. You threw your head back, moaning his name.

It felt so goddam good to finally fuck you like this after all the moments he had to steal himself away from his work to just to stroke his cock because you were incessantly teasing him. He had imagined you bent over his desk like this thousands of times. The image of you taking his cock like a good little whore was all the could picture whenever he caught you staring at him.

His grip on your shoulder and hip tightened, nails digging into your flesh. He was fucking you faster and faster, he wanted so badly to know what cumming in you felt like. You started to move your hips back onto him. Oh my god he couldn’t believe you wanted him this badly.

“Goddammit yes baby fuck back on my cock like that, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.”

You whimpered in approval.

“Would you like that stardust? Huh? Do you want me to cum inside of you?”

All you could manage was a weak “Uh huh.”

He panted like a dog, he was gonna breed you like one. Sweat began go form on his forehead, his glasses fogging.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this, wanted you. When I first met you I thought you were so fucking beautiful. I spent that night stroking myself to the cute Mystery Shack employee. I thought it was just a lonely old man’s fantasy that you would ever show me any interest, but then you started working for me and you would look at me with those eyes. God those eyes, so full of lust and want.”

You felt his cock throb inside you, he was close.

“I’m going to fill you up, have you dripping with my cum. Tell me you want it, I want to hear you beg.”

“Please, I need your cum in me. I need it so bad.”

“Call me sir.”

“Ahhh, hah, please sir, cum in me.”

He moaned loudly as he fucked you with a ruthless intensity. He buried himself deep in you as he came, your name escaping his lips. He didn’t stop fucking you, the feeling was overwhelming but he couldn’t help himself.

For a while there was nothing but the sounds of your heavy breaths. He began to slowly pull his cock out of you, cum spilling onto the floor. Jesus fucking christ he needed to draw this later.

You stayed bent over his desk, legs shaking. He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you onto his lap as he sat in his desk chair.

“Are you alright? I didn’t take it too far, did I?” He said stroking your hair.

“N- no, it was incredible.” You said between haggard breaths.

“Good, now here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go upstairs and finish the rest of your shift. You are to keep your panties off and let my cum slowly drip out of you. And then later tonight you’ll stay here and I’ll reward you by letting you cum on my tongue and cock, if, and only if you heed my instructions. Do we have a deal, stardust?”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. Having Ford to yourself all night? Holy fucking shit yes.

“Deal.” You smiled.

“That’s my baby.” He said cupping your chin and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You ascended up the creaking stairs back to work. Mind still buzzing with the moment you had just shared with Ford.

“There you are. I was startin’ to think you ditched, but then I- whoa, what happened to you, kid? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.” Stan said in his gruff voice.

You caught your reflection in the window, your hair was a mess. You quickly attempted to fix it.

“Ah, uh, I was just helping Ford fix some stuff.”

Stan stared at you for a second before a smirk creased his lips.

“Oh yeah I bet he fixed you real good, kid.”

You turned beet red “No, that’s not what I-“

He laughed. “Look, I’m just happy you two finally hooked up. I was gettin’ real sick of watching you two ogle at each other like horny repressed teenagers. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bet to settle with Wendy.”

“Great, Stan. Thanks for not making things awkward.”

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #ford pines smut #ford pines fanfic #gravity falls

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mirai-e-jump · 16 hours

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Animage October 2024 Issue Kamen Rider Gavv ft. Chinen Hidekazu & Sugihara Teruaki (translations below)

Publication: September 10, 2024

The Strange Sweets Kamen Rider

The 6th Reiwa Kamen Rider is the first ever to use a sweets motif! The cast and staff talk about the behind the scenes of the birth of the new hero who fascinates us with a gap between poppin visuals and its heavy filling!!

Having passed out due to hunger, Shouma, who comes from another world, was saved by a human boy named Hiroi Hajime. Shouma was in a difficult situation when he confronts the Granute, a monster who wants to kill Hajime, but when he "sets & eats" the familiar like creatures called Gochizo in the mouth on his stomach, he transforms into Kamen Rider Gavv and crushes the Granute. This was the beginning of Shouma's battle to protect humans.

The latest entry in the Kamen Rider series, "Kamen Rider Gavv" only just started in September. Despite the poppin imagery and visuals of sweets as its motif, this is a hard and serious drama that depicts the lonely battle of a young man named Shouma, who hides a grand past and mystery behind him.

This production features Takebe Naomi-san as the Producer, Sugihara-san as the pilot Director who determines the direction of the work, Komura Junko-san as Screenwriter, and Fujita Satoshi-san as Action Director, all of whom have worked on the Kamen Rider and Super Sentai series. In particular, Sugihara-san and Komura-san are the pair that gained attention for their work in "Kaitou Sentai Lupinranger VS Keisatsu Sentai Patranger" and the fans are expressing their expectations.

The story of a fierce battle between the sweets Kamen Rider and the Granute monsters has only just begun, so don't miss a moment of the birth of a new Kamen Rider legend! _

Chinen Hidekazu (Shouma)

The first transformation born from an extreme situation

-Supported by dependable friends and the Director-

"Please tell us your impression of the Kamen Rider series."

Chinen: For me, I've admired Kamen Riders since I was a child, and I love them so much that they're the first thing that comes to mind when people ask, "Who's your hero?" I've lived my whole life dreaming of becoming a Kamen Rider, so I was really happy when I was chosen to be Shouma.

"Are there any works that you find particularly memorable?"

Chinen: It's hard to pick a single work from my generation since I'm so attached to all of them, but……I think "Kamen Rider OOO" might be the one I was particularly enthusiastic about when watching. The dialogue between Hino Eiji and Ankh was interesting, and even as a child the ending made me think, so including its theme song, it's my favorite work. Lately however, I've been super into "Kamen Rider Den-O" (laughs). I'm watching it from the perspective of learning why it became so popular, but I also like Den-O because of Satoh Takeru's (who plays Nogami Ryotaro) amazing performance in which he plays multiple different personalities.

"What kind of person do you feel Shouma is?"

Chinen: I read the script so much that it felt like I was watching myself, as I thought that Shouma was so similar to me. We're very similar in the way that we're abit out of the loop, but also curious and get into the things that interest us. I was glued to the TV when I was a child, and I'd become so engrossed when watching it, that I couldn't even listen to what my mother was saying. However, I feel like I'm far removed from him in terms of his guts and inner strength, his desire to save people even at the risk of his own life, and his ability to fight the enemy. Playing the role of Shouma gives me energy and makes me aspire to be like him.

"We think another feature of this production is that right now, Shouma doesn't have a fixed place to stay, and that he comes into contact with a variety of people wherever he goes."

Chinen: I think alot of people are curious to see what happens next, as so far in Gavv, the story continues to be dominated by Shouma's easygoingness and the fact that we don't know what he's thinking. He seems to have a connection with Sachika-san, who he met in episode 2, so what happens to them in the future is a big point to watch out for!

"Please tell us your impressions of Sachika and the person who plays her, Miyabe Nozomi-san."

Chinen: Miyabe-san is a very refined person, so when we first met at script reading, I was shocked and said, "This person's gonna be a gyaru?!" (laughs). One of the things I like about Miyabe-san is that her mannerisms show the quality of her upbringing, but the more we talked, she really started to look like a gyaru, and I felt that performing together with her was amazing. Sachika-san leaves a strong impression of being a gyaru, but on the inside, she's a stable girl who's able to understand the feelings of others. Seeing her say with a refreshing smile, "I think it's good for everyone to be happy," Shouma respects her and thinks, "She's such a wonderful person" and "I want to be like her," almost like she's the embodiment of peace. When I read the script, I always feel supported and say, "Sachika-san, thank you."

"Shouma's brother sister like relationship with her is also very interesting."

Chinen: Director Sugihara Teruaki said to me, "It's like a dog and his owner" (laughs). Still, I think that Sachika-san's all encompassing kindness, and Shouma's simple mindedness are a great combination, and we're also playing the roles with confidence.

"He's yet to interact with Shouma, but we think the role Hanto plays will also be another highlight to look forward to."

Chinen: In some ways, Hanto is also easygoing, but he's the compassionate, hot blooded type, and he too lives by carrying something on his back. I hope you'll look forward to seeing how Shouma and Hanto, who are completely different types of people, interact with each other and what they'll think of each other in their first meeting. Hino Yusuke-kun, who plays Hanto, is the mood maker who makes the set feel relaxed, which is a gap between him and Hanto, but I feel that we're similar in our passion for the production and performance, and the way we put our all into something. To me, Hino-kun is a rival but also like a reliable big brother, and we often consult with each other and visit each other's houses (laughs).

"What were your impressions of Director Sugihara, who also directed the first two episodes as the pilot Director?"

Chinen: As I had no experience in acting, Director Sugihara is a respected teacher who taught me how to perform from the ground up, including how to read the script, and he's like a father figure from Tokyo. He understands each actor's personality and gives them advice accordingly, and he's an amazing person who draws out our potential, so every time I'm on set, I feel happy to film under Director Sugihara. He's a Director I really love.

"Before filming, it seems that you and the Director practiced vocalization together."

Chinen: Yes, even before I could act, my voice wouldn't come out (laughs). I'm really grateful that he took time out of his busy schedule to watch me one on one, and it was an important turning point that led to something changing in me. I want to grow so that people will feel that I'll have changed over the coming year, and one of my goals is to give an inspiring performance that'll be recognized by Director Sugihara with, "You gave it your all."

-Aiming to be as cool as Nawata-san-

"Kamen Rider Gavv, who Shouma transforms into, has a motif based on gummies and other sweets."

Chinen: When I saw the illustration depicted in the proposal, I thought it was incredibly simple, however, my opinion changed when I saw it in person. The armor on the chest and shoulders have a gradient so that it shines beautifully when light hits it, and there's a playful gimmick where a squishy dent will form when it's pressed, so a bunch of detail has been carefully put into it. I'm now so attached to it, that I can't think of anyone else but Gavv. Personally, what I want you to pay attention to the most are the feet. The feet are actually clawed, and this slightly animal like aspect is an important element of the show, so I'd be happy if you make sure to pay attention to the feet as well.

"What's your impression of Nawata Yuya-san, Gavv's Suit Actor?"

Chinen: Nawata-san is an actor who I shape Shouma together with, and he's an indispensable person to me, as I'm able to talk to him about problems that I can't talk about with the other cast members or the Director. He also taught me about acting, like how to create the mood and how to read the script. I'm grateful to Nawata-san's action, as I think Gavv's appeal has tripled, and I feel like the show itself has also become more brilliant.

"Does that also get you enthusiastic about the post transformation dub recording?"

Chinen: That's right. The recording process is more difficult than normal acting because you have to use only your voice to express your emotions and fight scenes in accordance with the footage. In episodes 1 and 2, I had to rerecord so many times that I lost the strength in my voice, and it took twice as long as the planned time (bitter smile). As well as the performances of my seniors in the Kamen Rider series, I also studied the game "Street Fighter" based on the advice of Director Sugihara, and now I feel like I'm getting by. I'll work more diligently to make Nawata-san's performance 120% more appealing with my voice performance, and to become a Shouma who's just as cool after his transformation into Gavv.

"One of the real thrills of the Kamen Rider series are the transformation scenes, but how did you create the pose?"

Chinen: The transformation pose was decided through a discussion between myself, Action Director Fujita Satoshi, Director Sugihara, and Nawata-san. It's a movement that involves rotating your arm, but the final version, which we created after discussing the angles and timing with everyone to make sure it looked cool and appealing, is the transformation pose used in episode 2. Depending on the story, he could transform quickly, so I hope people watch the way he changes based on the situation.

"In the episodes up to this point, the action leading up to the first transformation in the first episode is a scene that can't be ignored when talking about Shouma. There was some action involving wires, and we were also impressed by his performance as he was gradually being cornered by the Granute."

Chinen: That scene was prepared weeks before the shoot, as Director Sugihara and Action Director Fujita came up with a really cool direction. The scene where Shouma is beaten was especially important to give depth to the reason for his transformation, as it took two days to film. In the end, it was in the most extreme situation I had ever experienced in my life, my performance came out unconsciously, and I was complemented with, "Your facial expressions were very good." I could've never done it on my own, the scene was made possible by the advice of Director Sugihara and Nawata-san, who worked beside me, and by all the staff members who created an environment that allowed me to concentrate on my performance.

"It makes us want to go back and pay attention to the expressions on your face. Finally, please tell us your goals throughout filming of Kamen Rider Gavv."

Chinen: I'd like to learn alot about action from Action Director Fujita, Nawata-san and everyone else on the Action Team, and I'd like to improve my acting skills. I've never been in an environment where I could spend an entire year with people who are so good at captivating others, and I don't think it'll ever happen again in the future. I hope to make full use of this experience so that in the next year, I can be an actor who can do it all, from acting to action and recording, so I'll do my best to do what's in front me!

Director Sugihara Teruaki

The vibrant world Shouma comes across

-A dark story with colorful visuals-

"When did you first hear that you'd be the pilot Director?"

Sugihara: I'm pretty sure it was around last Fall, when I was working on the drama, "Tokyo MPD: From Zero to Hero," I received a phone call from Producer Takebe Naomi-san who said, "I'd like to meet and talk with you at once." I heard from a separate matter that Takebe-san would be in charge of the next Kamen Rider, and at the time, I thought I was going to be the second Director, but when I met her, she said, "You're the pilot Director." (laughs).

"At the stage when Director Sugihara joined, how much of the content in the show was decided on?"

Sugihara: Aside from the sweets and monsters motif, we'd yet to decide on the content of the story and the personalities and relationships of the characters. In the beginning, we were a small group consisting of the Producer team's Takebe-san and Takishima Minami-san, Screenwriter Komura Junko-san, and myself. Our three parties worked out the content by sharing ideas from our respective perspectives.

"What specific ideas did Director Sugihara have in mind? Personally, we felt that the visuals of the characters, including their costumes, incorporated the Director's ideas."

Sugihara: You can assume that I'm basically in charge of visual aspects like the impression and fashion. For Shouma's fashion in particular, during the rather early stages, I'd draw an illustration and say, "How about something like this?," and I'd have them look at it while I created his character.

"Not just Shouma's clothes, but also the interior of Hapipare is rich in color, so much so that it's unusual for the Kamen Rider series."

Sugihara: I told artist Fukuzawa Katsuhiro that I wanted to make the visuals as bright and pop as much as possible. Kamen Rider Gavv itself isn't meant to be a continuation of the "ism" seen in the first generation of Kamen Rider, but it includes themes like family conflict and Shouma's sad separation from his mother, so the content is heavy. Because of this, we made the impression of the colors vivid, and were careful to not make them too dark. Moreover, being in the human world for the first time, Shouma's a kid who's impressed by everything he sees, so I was conscious of the world captured from Shouma's point of view and to use rather flashy colors. Conversely, the Granute World and Stomach Family use muted colors, or to just say it outright, they have dirty colors.

"What do you value in your expression of Shouma, the main character?"

Sugihara: I wanted to depict Shouma as a pure kid, someone who suddenly comes to the human world and finds everything he sees as fresh. On the inside, he's not much different from Hajime, who he first meets in the human world, in fact, he's much more of a child than that kid. So he ponders over what he's been told, hurt by the casual mention of "monster" and afraid of hurting others, he's unable to be together with someone else, so he leaves Hajime and Sachika and goes elsewhere. However, I didn't want to make it too dark, so it was hard to depict (laughs). While he carries a dark side, I want him to be a kid who's always smiling when he's with someone, even if he has to force himself to smile.

"This Shouma is beautifully embodied by Chinen Hidekazu-san."

Sugihara: The best thing about Chinen-kun is that he looks great on camera. That's the kind of talent an actor has. Also, the expressions on his face when he eats are really good. Even though he's eating food he usually sees all the time, he eats it like it's a delicacy, looking as if he's eating something he's never seen before and is impressed. In that sense, I think he was the right choice to play Shouma. Still, since this is roughly his first performance, he had to start from a place where he couldn't express his emotions properly, and to begin with, he couldn't even vocalize. I had Chinen-kun stand on one end of Toei's rooftop, and I stood on the opposite end and had him deliver his lines. I gave him relentless acting instruction from the very beginning (laughs). Filming started earlier than usual, so we've already shot several episodes, and I feel that he can now stand proudly in front of the camera as Shouma. With each episode his performance and facial expressions are getting better and better. I have high expectations for his growth over the next year.

-Dedicated action that make the most of the motif-

"We felt that the vibes of Gavv's everyday scenes were different from that of previous Kamen Rider series, but was there anything you were conscious of in your direction?"

Sugihara: In my mind, I had a bright, pop like feeling, but during filming, Chinen-kun……it was important to me how to capture Shouma and the human world from his point of view. I may have only been thinking, "How can I get a good shot of him?"

"In that sense, it's interesting to think that the entire production is being pulled along by Shouma and Chinen-san."

Sugihara: That's right. This is especially true for the first episode, as the story unfolds from Shouma's point of view, so I was conscious of the fact that I wanted to bring the viewers perspective as close as possible to Shouma's.

"Despite the battle scenes also having a fancy sweets motif, from the very first episode, we were taken back by the intense physical battle depicted between Gavv and the Granute."

Sugihara: I'm pretty sure it was Action Director Fujita Satoshi who put out the idea of a serious fistfight at a container warehouse, and with sword fighting in a narrow space. We specified the colors and placement of the containers, and asked the people on location to arrange them accordingly. From there, Fujita and I talked in detail about the composition of the action, and we put it together by discussing the angles while adding in our own ideas as we filmed on site.

"We heard that you and Fujita-san worked closely together to create this."

Sugihara: I also like action quite abit, so I tell Fujita various things like, "Do this sort of thing." Naturally, Fujita has alot of things he wants to do as well, so the two of us are working together to come up with ideas for action sequences and angles.

"Including Gavv's own actions, the way he fights while "eating" the Gochizo is unique."

Sugihara: It was decided in advance that the transformation items Gochizo would appear alot like that of "Pikmin" and "Minions," so I thought it'd be better to use alot of them. Because of that, when Gavv takes damage, his armor breaks and he'll eat the Gochizo one after another……we're calling it "follow up sweets," and I think it'd be interesting to keep changing sweets and repair them as he fights.

"The standard Poppingummy Form has flexible armor, while Zakuzakuchips Form's sword weapon can easily break depending on how it's used, and the use of sweets as a motif was also visually enjoyable."

Sugihara: Inspiration for the action comes from discussions that are almost like casual conversations. I thought about how things like thin baked snacks such as potato chips might be weak to side attacks (laughs). Also, unlike other Kamen Riders, we don't use bullet impacts on Gavv when we depict him being hit (mechanism that detonates gunpowder that's attached to the performer). In his setup, the armor is derived from sweets generated by his own body, so we tried to create the effect of small bead like things flying around him. During filming, we've been throwing beads into the air from the side of the camera. In that sense, it may have a new visual feel.

"What scenes from episodes 1 and 2 were particularly powerful?"

Sugihara: In terms of taking the most time, I'd say it was before the transformation in the first episode. When I was thinking about Shouma's human image, Takebe-san said, "I don't want him to be a hero who fights just because he has powers." You don't fight just because you have the power to become a Kamen Rider, there's a will to fight, and that's where the power comes in. I wanted to create an image of a hero who's able to transform into Gavv because it's Shouma. Since the time of the script meeting, we had talked about how we wanted to portray a different kind of strength from that of the everyday Shouma, who keeps going despite being beaten up by someone he can't even stand up to. On set, Chinen-kun and I worked together to find out why Shouma was feeling that way, and we worked on his facial expressions and gestures one by one, and I was quite persistent throughout filming. We were supposed to film the transformation scene in one day, but we took too long and didn't get to the transformation, so I had to apologize to the staff (laughs).

"Finally, please tell us your enthusiasm for the future."

Sugihara: Honestly, I have no idea how Kamen Rider Gavv will conclude a year from now, but I want to make a show that'll make people who watched it think, "Gavv was interesting." For this reason, I'd also like to delve deeper into Shouma and Hanto, and Sachika and the others characters, and to make each of them appealing. I'm sure that Komura-san will come up with some great developments (laughs), and for my part, I hope that I can take advantage of that, and as the pilot Director for the first time in a long time, to create images that people watching in their living rooms have never seen before.

#kamen rider gavv #kamen rider #chinen hidekazu #hidekazu chinen #shouma stomach #shouma inoue #inoue shouma #inoue shoma #my scans #my translation #animage #hanto karakida #karakida hanto #sachika amane #amane sachika #tokusatsu #toku cast #interview

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fractualized · 3 days

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Could you give me any Batman comic(/series) recommendations? Or Joker ones?

(You can pretend I’ve never read any Batman comics)

Man, this got me thinking about (1) the number of extended storylines I still haven't fully read myself and (2) of the ones I have, would I recommend that people read them?? Tough question! Thinking about it in terms of a Batman newbie changes things too... 🤔

Ultimately, my list is mostly one-offs apart from the mainline series, but there's a few multi-issue mainline stories in there. From oldest to newest:

Batman (1940) #1, "The Joker" and "The Joker Returns" — Early comics can feel inaccessible because of their age, but I would still recommend checking out the start of Batman and Joker's relationship for a sense of the longevity and evolution of these characters (You could also read Batman's first appearance in Detective Comics [1937] #27.)

Batman (1940) #251, "The Joker's Five-Way Revenge" — Jumping ahead thirty years! After a 4-year absence from comics, Joker returns, and I just love how his dynamic with Batman picks up where they left off like it was yesterday.

Detective Comics (1937) #475, "The Laughing Fish" — The infamous story in which Joker's mad scheme is to… copyright fish.

The Dark Knight Returns #1-4 — TBH, I'm not a fan of TDKR for various reasons. However, it had a huge influence on Batman and you should read it at least once.

Batman (1940) #404-407, "Batman: Year One" — More required reading (but I do enjoy it more than TDKR). Frank Miller's problematique is more acknowledged today, but as I said, modern Batman stems from his work.

The Killing Joke — Controversial-ish recommendation nowadays, considering the much-maligned choice to fridge Barbara Gordon, but I still enjoy the nuance it gives Joker and the meta element of the ending, with Bruce and Joker trapped in their cycle by choices that are informed by the needs of the franchise. Alan Moore may no longer care for it, but I do! (Also, I'd say read it with the original coloring.)

Batman (1940) #426-429, "A Death in the Family" — Another big event in Batman lore: the death of Jason Todd. It's one of those moments that gets flattened in various ways today, so I think it's important to see how everything actually played out. In particular, it's striking to see that Joker is initially nervous about Batman finding out what he did, and just how Bruce struggles with his no-kill principle.

Batman #450-451, "Wildcard!" and "Judgements!" — Joker's big return after Jason's murder, in which we see he's still not all that giddy about it.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #65-68, "Going Sane" — This story takes place earlier in Batman's career, before Robin. When Joker seemingly kills Batman, he tries to start a new life without his instability breaking through. Meanwhile, Bruce recovers from his near-death in a little town in the middle of nowhere and thinks he might actually stay there… but he's plagued by restlessness too.

Joker: Devil's Advocate — Joker winds up on death row, but for a crime he didn't commit! Bruce is set on proving Joker's innocence despite the clown's other sins, and Joker is too captivated by all the media attention to help save his own hide.

Deathstroke (1991) #58, "Bad Blood" — A story in which Joker causes plenty of chaos, but in service of doing something… nice?

Batman: Ego — As Bruce contemplates giving up his crusade, he falls into an argument with… Batman.

Batman (1940) #648-650, "All They Do Is Watch Us Kill" — Part of Under the Red Hood. Jason Todd's reappearance in Gotham City comes to a head when he kidnaps Joker and draws Batman in for a dire confrontation.

Detective Comics (1937) #826, "Slayride" — Paul Dini is one of the writers who consistently remembers Joker has a personality and makes him funny, and this Christmas-time story featuring Tim Drake is a great example.

Batman Confidential #7-12, "Lovers and Madmen" — An alternative origin for Joker. Bruce has been fighting crime for about a year when he encounters a bloody crime scene that he can't make sense of. Meanwhile, the culprit, Jack, is growing bored with his criminal life, until he comes face to face with a vigilante bat.

Batman 80-Page Giant 2010 (Volume 2), "Reality Check" — Is Joker really crazy? Does Joker himself even know?

Batman (2011) #13-17, "Death of the Family" — Not to be confused with "A Death in the Family." Joker tries to convince Batman that all his sidekicks make him weak.

Batman (2011) #23.1, "Time to Monkey Shine" — Joker infamously adopts a gorilla. (It ends badly.)

Batman (2011) #35-40, "Endgame" — After Joker's failure in DOTF, he decides to bring his conflict with Batman to a close.

The Joker Presents: A Puzzlebox #1-7 — The Riddler is dead, but what really happened? A heist story in which the point of view is passed around multiple rogues, but Joker is the ringleader.

Catwoman: Lonely City #1-4 — Alright, this one does revolve around Selina, but the story is deeply tied to her relationship with Bruce and what she comes to understand about him in the end. (And Joker plays a brief but key part!)

Batman & The Joker: The Deadly Duo #1-7 — A recent team-up that calls back to everything I've personally enjoyed about Batman and Joker's dynamic.

Batman: City of Madness #1-3 — Beneath Gotham lies Gotham Below, from which a monstrous mirror of Batman escapes in search of a Robin. In his pursuit, Bruce confronts not only alternative versions of his rogues but his personal demons.

#batman #joker #dc comics #comic recommendations #ask #anonymous

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whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk · 2 days

Text

Hold Me Like a Knife (ii) (ao3)

Chapter 2 for @nessianweek day 6…. because uh… viking!Cassian is a legend? We're squinting with this one.

After an evening spent in the lord's mead hall observing the Danes and their ways, Nesta finds herself in trouble when an unfriendly Norseman follows her through the streets of Jorvik. Fortunately for her, she's already caught the eye of a man who'd sooner spill a river of blood than see her harmed...

(previous chapter // next chapter)

The business of negotiating land, it seemed, took hours.

In the lord’s hall, behind a wooden door carved with the image of a great tree encircled by a snake, the men disappeared. After briefly being shown to their lodgings, Nesta and the other ladies of the court had been escorted back to the hall, like the Danes didn’t trust them enough to give them free reign about the city just yet. And so, as the king and Rhysand and their most trusted men remained ensconced behind those doors, locked away for hours to debate the lines of their treaty - which towns and rivers would fall under the rule of the Danes, and which fields and roads would remain Saxon - Nesta studied that tree. Seated on a long wooden bench, she traced each meticulously carved branch that stretched towards the edges of the door, admiring the craftsmanship as she followed the tail of the snake that curved around the tree.

Somebody had told her, once, that the Danes thought their world was a mighty tree, and as Nesta sat and watched, she wondered if it was true. If the world was cradled by the boughs of a great oak, then where exactly did they sit, now? Were they in the branches, high enough to feel the light of the sun? Or was their little corner of England the roots of the tree, buried underground, so near to the scales of the beast that surrounded them?

She didn’t know who to ask to find out.

Every now and then, Tomas would leave the room, letting the door slam behind him as he left to fetch whatever parchment or deed the king had requested. Her husband muttered under his breath as he went, glaring at the walls, and not once did he stop to tell her - or any of them gathered outside that room - what was happening inside.

It was only when Rhysand stepped out into the hall and cast his eyes over the court of Wessex assembled before him - interspersed with Danes - that the news was shared. The Norseman’s face split into a ruthless smile as he took in the scene before him, the gathering lit by candlelight as the sun beyond the windows started to wane. The hall seemed to glow, the fire in the middle stirring as logs were added to the dwindling embers.

With a smooth, slippery kind of smugness, Lord Rhysand announced that the vast swathe of territory henceforth to be known as the Danelaw cut diagonally across Britain— so many miles and miles of land, surrendered to the heathen invaders that had looked at these shores and decided to make them their home, at any cost.

It was a wonder, Nesta thought, that King Alfred had left the room with the crown still upon his brow.

“This land has given me many things,” Rhysand began after his announcement, his violet eyes casting over the crowd with an intensity that made Nesta want to shudder. Beneath his eyes, somehow she felt like he could see into her soul— read her mind. “It has given me a new home, and comforts that I could not have dreamed of across the sea.” With a smile that felt almost genuine, Rhysand looked to Alfred like one might look to a brother. “With this treaty between us, I look forward to days of peace.”

Murmurs rose among the crowd; whispered agreements.

But Nesta saw the way Rhysand’s eye glinted in the firelight, the curve at the corner of his lip that made his smile more wolfish than anything else. And somehow, she didn’t think the peace would last.

There was a hunger in Rhysand— in all of his people, too. Did Alfred think a pretty parcel of land might be enough to sate that hunger, to slake their thirst for blood? Nesta looked to the snake carved on the door, its jaws wrapped around the tree that made up their world. The sharp teeth were shadowed by the firelight, the branches of the world-tree seeming to shake as the flames trembled, the light quivering like the sails on one of their ships, caught in the wind.

Servants appeared along the walls, and as Rhysand announced the feast and welcomed the Saxons to his hall and his hearth, Nesta looked back at that snake, and wondered if they hadn’t just walked right into its jaws.

***

In the lord’s hall, woodsmoke tangled with the scent of spices imported from far-off lands— places Nesta had only ever heard about in stories. Places where there was sand underfoot more often than stone, places where the sea was so blue it was deeper than the colour of a summer sky.

We had a ship arrive last week filled with spices— pepper and saffron and cumin. Entirely foreign to these shores without our extensive trading networks, of course, Rhysand had said, filling up his goblet with mead.

Nesta had never tasted anything like it— the meat so delicately spiced, the taste of smoke lingering deliciously on her tongue. Suddenly, she was ravenous. She tilted her head at the mention of the spices the Danes imported. Her father was a merchant after all, and yet… they spoke of lands so distant, where floors were made of tile and temples were erected in the name of yet more gods she couldn’t recognise. She followed the tales Rhysand told with interest as platters of food were laid out on the long tables that housed Dane and Saxon alike, the embers in the fire-pit glowing a vibrant red as smoke drifted up to the hole cut in the roof above, curling past the decorated wooden beams that stretched up from the floor; all of them carved with the faces of great beasts: serpents and dragons, wolves and bears. Mead and ale were poured liberally as conversation rose like the tides, and through it all Nesta sat silently, observing.

“Not good for the soul,” Osbert muttered as he plucked up a piece of chicken between his thumb and forefinger. “Such a rich diet. It heats the blood, fosters sin.”

Tomas scowled, poking at a piece of meat with the tip of his silver knife. “Everything about this place fosters sin, father.”

With a grimace twisting his features, he set his fork back down, the meat untouched. Like to break bread with the heathen was a sin all its own.

Indeed, as the meal ended and benches were pushed back from tables as the Danes rose from their seats to fetch more drink, Nesta noted with a sharp eye how more than a handful of Alfred’s court made haste to retire. Thegns and their wives made their excuses to their king, slipping away into the safety of their lodgings, like they couldn’t bear the peace any longer. Nesta, for one, found that she didn’t so much mind the food or the wine or the hall they found themselves in, and though there was a healthy dose of reservation as she looked at the Danes assembled on long benches either side of the hall, she had to admit that her curiosity was burning like a pyre, so many questions balanced on the tip of her tongue that she knew she could never ask aloud.

What were the creatures carved on those columns lining the room? What stories did they tell, and why were they deemed so important, so beloved, as to immortalise them in the wood?

Further along the table, King Alfred got to his feet. In a move that echoed, Rhysand did too, plucking up his goblet with lithe fingers as his assembled guests began to filter through the tables, the din of conversation rising all around them as formality was shed a little. The Northern lord took a different seat, closer to the fire, and beckoned to Alfred— to the empty seat beside him, illuminated by the flames. Both king and Dane might have claimed that they had left political discussions at the door as soon as dinner had been served, but Nesta knew the world of men too well to think differently. Negotiation continued, only this time it masqueraded as pleasant conversation.

Beside her, Tomas moved too, taking up a position directly behind the king, like he thought himself some kind of protector.

He didn’t sit down.

Only Nesta remained where she was. Even Osbert rose, a grunt of displeasure leaving him as he drifted to the edge of the room, taking up a seat against the wall, like still he feared someone was going to stick a dagger in his spine. Nesta didn’t think she could blame anybody for trying; Osbert watched with scrupulous eyes, speaking to no one, and giving no one leave to approach him. His silver cross shone in the low light, and every now and then the priest would wrap his fingers around it before lifting it to his lips, like showing his reverence to the cross might protect him in a hall so filled with heathens.

And yet Rhysand, she noted, recently baptised as per the terms of the treaty with Alfred, didn’t look particularly overcome with religious zeal of his own.

She supposed she wouldn’t be, either. Alfred and her husband might have thought Rhysand had taken the sacrament in all honesty, but he had been raised to believe in so many gods— what was one more added to his pantheon?

What was one more, when it brought him England?

Such a small price to pay, and even as he attended Mass on Sundays, she suspected he would still make his offerings to Odin.

She had said as much to Tomas, when he had first informed her of the king’s plan. The treaty they had made.

He had told her to stop trying to understand the politics of men— that it was too difficult a topic for her delicate female mind to comprehend. When he’d turned his back that night, she’d spat in his ale.

And now he stood behind the king, his chest puffed, engorged with his own self-importance, and as the firelight cast shadows across his face, Nesta half wondered if it would make her a terrible wife to wish that peace fell apart. To hope for a Danish blade to find a home in Tomas’ spine.

There were certainly enough Danes gathered beneath that roof to do the job.

She cast her eyes across them, taking in the way they raised their drinking horns, and the game pieces scattered across so many tables as they played a game she didn’t recognise. Her gaze roved across them all, until—

Across the hall, her attention caught on one Dane in particular.

Caught and held, like no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bid her eyes to look away.

It was the one from earlier— the one who had been fighting outside the hall. He lounged against the wall now the banquet was finished, one foot up, clad in leather with hair down to his shoulders. He looked… cleaner now. The blood had been washed from his face, his shirt exchanged for a fresh one, dyed a deep burgundy with not a single crease to mar the fabric. None of the men were armed, but there was a space at his hip where a dagger might rest, and over the broad span of his shoulders, she thought that the hilt of a sword might look at home there, peeking out from above his back. His eyes glinted in the firelight, and a well-trimmed beard graced his jaw. Silver beads were threaded through his hair, which was braided at his temples. The Northmen were known for their… vanity, Nesta thought wryly, but perhaps it wasn’t such a terrible thing. The leather he wore was polished and smooth, if a little worn, and his hair shone in a way that was unseen amongst the Saxons.

He was… curious, Nesta thought, tilting her head as she watched him beneath the candlelight.

The distance between them felt like nothing— like she might reach out and feel the fabric of his tunic beneath her fingers, and as she watched, not quite sure of whether she wanted to widen the space between them or diminish it, he lifted his chin and found her staring, their eyes meeting with something that felt like a thunderclap, a bolt of lightning to her soul.

He raised his goblet; a toast across the fray.

His eyes sparked, and at his side, the warrior with the scarred hands muttered something before shaking his head. The first leaned close to whisper something in the ear of the second, and when the second pulled back, his lips were curved with an indulgent smile as he rolled his eyes. In tandem, both men looked across the room, pinning Nesta to the spot when their eyes found her. The first tilted his head, his eyes still trained on her as he drew his lip between his teeth, eyes aflame as he let drop the foot that he’d had resting against the wall.

Slowly, he ran a finger across his lip, his interest written plainly across his face.

And when that look in his eyes said he was about to approach her…

Nesta’s heart stopped.

Without hesitation she tore her eyes away, back to her husband and her king, and Nesta really did feel apprehension then, like a knot in her gut she couldn’t loosen. Her blood felt too thin, like there wasn’t enough air. In her chest her heart hammered, because what would happen if that Dane decided to cross the hall to speak to her? Her mind reeled.

Did she want to know the sound of his voice? To know what her name might sound like when shaped by his northern tongue?

Tomas would have her flogged when they returned to Wessex.

She looked to him now, but her husband did not smile or speak as she rose from her seat and joined him at the king’s back. Tomas only glanced at her and the wine still in her hands, his lip curling. After a moment, he took a single step back from Alfred, gripping Nesta’s upper arm with a tight hand. Silent, a muscle ticked in his jaw.

The Dane across the hall retreated.

And still Tomas’ hand curled into the soft flesh of her shoulder, like she was one of his hounds to be restrained, and no wedding ring circled his finger the way it did hers; her golden band little more than a collar binding her to a single master. Had she been given the choice, she never would have married him. Might never have married at all, in fact. There were women in convents who dedicated their life to prayer. Who read history and theology and lived in peace, when the Danes weren’t raiding, and didn’t that sound like a better life than this?

Her father had sold her to Tomas, a landless thegn, in order to better his standing with the king. She had been a bartering chip, no more. Tomas had never viewed her as anything more either, and the fact that she had yet to bear him a son and heir had him growing impatient. He was not gentle nor kind nor loving— he was everything she had feared to find in a husband, and she dreamed of that convent life now, every time he touched her.

Nesta spent all of a single heartbeat in her husband’s grip before deciding to retire.

“I’m tired,” she said, setting down the goblet that was still half-full. “The journey left me weary.”

Tomas only made some non-comital sound in his throat. His hand fell away from her arm and without even glancing at her he said, almost as an afterthought, “I may join you later.”

Nesta knew well enough what he meant. If he didn’t find a place in a whore’s bed, he’d come looking for his place in hers.

She said nothing, only dipped her chin to hide the way her jaw clenched. She turned without a goodbye, cutting through the crowd and noticing that most of the other women had already left, too. As if they could sense that the night was about to shift, that the men were getting too deep in their cups. It was a sense all women bear, Nesta thought, an instinct engrained within them all, to know when the men they were surrounded by were about to shed civility and turn into beasts, with nothing but blood on the horizon.

In that regard, no man was different, be he Saxon or a Dane.

Their hands would wander, their ears deaf to any protest.

Quickly Nesta ducked outside of the hall, into the darkness and the cool air of the street outside, and looked towards the lodgings only a short distance away.

Beneath the moon, the narrow streets were silver. The corners were bathed in shadow, and she’d only made it a few steps before she realised there was someone watching her from the darkest of those shadowed corners. She saw the glint of something silver— the moonlight reflecting off a ring or a necklace.

Or a blade.

She pushed down the fear, lifted her chin and slowed her steps. Refused to be cowed.

“Who’s there.”

A dark chuckle answered her.

“Saxon,” a voice said, nasal and pitched too low, like the man it belonged to was trying to sound larger and more imposing than he was. Nesta might have scoffed had she not been certain that it would end with her blood on his hands. Her heart started to hammer.

He stepped into the moonlight. More boy than man, his dark hair was made black by the silver light, the sneer contorting his features making a caricature of the shadows on his face. A too-new scar cut across his nose, and his eyes were flat and cold. He manoeuvred out of the shadows until he was blocking the path ahead, and as Nesta looked behind her, she wondered if she could run back to the mead hall, make it to safety before he caught her.

She looked at the way he braced himself, and knew she wouldn’t make it far.

Her hand strayed to her skirts, where her dinner knife was tied to her belt. It was custom to carry a knife for dining, and though the blade was fine enough to eat with, she knew it wouldn’t do enough damage to the Dane before her. It was too short, too blunted.

He smirked, a cloud passing over the moon that cloaked him with shadow.

“I don’t like Saxons,” he whispered.

“Pity,” Nesta sneered before she could still her tongue.

It was unwise, she knew, and the Dane laughed, cruel and throaty.

“I never asked for an alliance with your king,” he spat, taking a slow step forwards as Nesta took a single step back. “I don’t want peace. I came here for blood— for glory.” He freed a blade from his belt, the curved edge of an axe raised. “And I’ll be getting it— one way or another.”

The moon was almost entirely masked now, plunging them into darkness. Only the sharp edge of his seax glinted.

And then— footsteps. Loud footsteps. Sure and confident.

The clouds cleared, and turning her head, Nesta beheld the Dane from the hall walking casually, carefully, down the street towards them. His eyes were fixed on the Dane with the weapon in his hand, though briefly they flicked to her, running across her from head to toe, as if to check for injury.

In his presence the Dane blocking the way ahead hesitated, the hand holding his seax raised dropping an inch, his fingers slipping on the short handle, as if searching for a stronger grip.

The Dane from the hall closed the distance quickly. His own small axe was tucked back into his belt now, and with one smooth, effortless motion, he freed the weapon and held it to throat of his fellow Northman.

The latter’s axe fell to the floor with a muted clatter.

Nesta took a step back, her spine hitting the wattle-and-daub wall of the building behind her. Even in the darkness she could see the scowl on the face of the Dane that had threatened her, and the unkind twist of his lips as the Dane from the hall pressed the sharp edge of his axe in a little harder, freeing a thin ribbon of blood that spilled down to the hollow of his throat.

“I’ve told you before, haven’t I, Kallon, about what happens to men who follow women down dark streets,” the Dane from the hall hissed. The one at the mercy of his blade - Kallon, Nesta presumed - tried to speak, but the effort was lost when the axe was pressed deeper against his throat, so perilously close to cutting right through. “Did the last scar I gave you fail to teach you well enough?”

Kallon tried to fight against the Dane’s hold, but his movements were pinned by the lethal edge of the axe at his neck. Resentment curled his lip even as his blood stained the ground beneath him, his eyes filled with such a bottomless, relentless hatred that Nesta’s own fingers traveled to her throat, curling around her necklace as if searching for something to grasp.

“Rhys will have my head if I kill you now,” the Dane muttered. “Something about keeping the peace while the Saxons are here. Not confirming their beliefs that we are naught but a violent and lawless people.” He snorted, the inflection in his voice making it clear that he was parroting Rhysand’s words, letting them echo in the otherwise empty street. He raised his free hand, grasping Kallon’s face roughly between his fingers. Blood spilled down the handle of the seax, coating the fingers of his other hand, but the Dane seemed entirely unconcerned as he lowered his face and met Kallon’s eye. When he next spoke, his voice was cold and dark, carrying no hint at all of an empty threat. “But trust me, the next time that I see you…”

He trailed off, letting the threat linger before pulling his blade away sharply. Kallon’s hand immediately banded his throat, covering the small wound.

He looked up at the man who had been but a moment away from killing him, and though his glare remained, he straightened. He was a full head shorter than the other Dane, and not nearly so well-built. Where the other seemed to have been born and raised on a battlefield, Kallon appeared to be the Norse equivalent of Tomas: cocksure, arrogant, and entirely devoid of skill.

Nesta pushed away from the wall, looking away from Kallon and finding her attention snared by the powerful span of the Dane’s shoulders, the way the muscles bunched at his arms as he slid his seax back into his belt.

“Leave,” the Dane hissed.

Kallon hesitated.

“Now.”

Kallon scrambled down the alley, his steps stumbling only once as he hurtled round the corner, bracing a hand on the wall to steady himself. A smear of blood was all he left behind, a crimson handprint made garish by the silver light of the moon.

For a moment, relief swelled in Nesta’s chest.

For just one moment— because then the Dane turned, and fixed all of that ruthless attention on her.

“Dangerous,” he said, his voice low and husky, “for a Saxon woman to be walking these streets alone.”

“Thank you,” she said, brushing a hand down the fabric of her cloak. “For…” she gestured to the mouth of the street where Kallon had disappeared, then nodded to the axe he’d just wielded in her defence. “…That.”

The Dane raised an eyebrow. A scar ran diagonal through it, and his nose was slightly crooked, like it had once been broken, long ago, and hadn’t set completely straight. It made him a rugged beauty, alluring and compelling in equal measure, and when the moonlight shifted and illuminated his face, Nesta thought he might have been the most dangerous man she had ever laid eyes on.

“You shouldn’t walk alone,” he said.

She bristled. “What else am I to do?”

He shrugged. “Do you not have a husband to escort you?”

Nesta scowled, forgetting that this man had just had a weapon against the throat of another. Somehow, she didn’t think he was going to hurt her. When he took a step closer, she didn’t retreat.

“I don’t need my husband to escort me anywhere,” she spat, hardly able to hide the venom in her tone.

His eyes darkened as he pulled his gaze across every inch of her. Even though every piece of her skin was covered, somehow she felt bare beneath his attention, like he was somehow able to see the parts of her she kept hidden. He drifted closer, those eyes like sparks of hazel, and he reminded her of something wild, something prowling in the dark.

He laughed— laughed.

“Tell me sweetheart,” he said, his voice a low brush against her senses. “Was he the man standing behind your king?”

She didn’t answer, letting her silence fill the space between them, but the warrior huffed a sharp laugh, one that was mocking and derisive, that should have made her afraid. But he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth again, letting his laugh devolve into a hum lodged deep in his throat, and as the moonlight drifted again across his beautifully rugged face, Nesta swallowed, and didn’t feel afraid at all.

“He looks weak,” the warrior continued, his lip curling into a sneer. “Can he even lift a sword?”

And oh, if Nesta were a good wife, she would have defended Tomas. She would have spun a tale of his bravery, of his strength, until the warrior before her backed off and left her alone. But she was not a good wife— not made for such things, to be shaped and moulded by her husband’s hands. So instead she shrugged, and looked the Dane before her straight in the eye. They liked their women outspoken, she’d heard. Allowed them to fight beside them in battle, did not consign them to breeding and childrearing— no, these brutish men from the north let their women be as fierce and as ferocious as themselves, and knowing that…

For the first time in her life, Nesta did not hold her tongue.

“He says he can.” She paused, words balanced on her tongue that she’d longed to say out loud since the day she was married. She’d never had the courage, but here, in the presence of this man, she found it— found it in abundance. “But then again, he says he can use his prick, and I’ve never seen proof of that, either.”

The Dane laughed again— louder this time, a true laugh, deep and sure. It echoed. Delight shone in his eyes as he took another step closer.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked, breathing in the scent of him, all leather and smoke and honeyed mead.

“Because these streets are no place for a lady,” he answered easily. When she said nothing - because what was there to say anyway? - he hummed a little, shrugging idly before continuing. “Besides, you were looking at me. In the hall.”

Nesta blinked. “You followed me because I looked at you?”

He grinned. “I followed you because it was clear to me that you liked what you saw.”

God in Heaven, this man.

A breathless laugh escaped her, one softened with surprise. “Are all Danes so direct?”

“Usually.” He lifted his head up, looking to the sky as he took a deep breath. “Life is short, sweetheart. I am a man born and raised for battle. Valhalla could welcome me any day now, should an enemy blade pierce my flesh, so why waste time?”

He took another step, and Nesta swallowed. He was close— close enough to touch, now.

“When I want something…” he continued, trailing off as his eyes dropped to her lips. They flicked back up, catching her gaze and holding it. “I don’t waste the opportunity.”

Nesta snorted. “Spoken like a true Northman.”

He quirked a brow. “Did you expect anything less?” He dipped his head, leaned in close, his lips close to her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “Did you think all men are like your pitiful excuse for a husband?”

Suddenly, Nesta couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. She had never been one to lose her senses over a man, and yet here she was, feeling her heart racing for all the wrong reasons in the presence of a heathen. It would be so easy for her to reach up, to drag her fingers across his beautiful, rugged face. To feel his heat.

When he laughed, the sound was like honey. Thick and warm and sweet, washing over her as he lowered his head, his lips a breath away from her neck. His hand hovered over her hip— not touching, not yet, but close enough that one wrong move would bring them crashing together, colliding so forcefully she didn’t think there would be anything left of her by the end of it.

When I want something…

His voice echoed in her head, burning and burning in her blood until the heat made her tip her head back, searching for the cool brush of the night air. The Dane took it for an invitation, his hands coming to rest at her waist.

She was too stunned to move.

Her body froze, so entirely still that she half thought she might have forgotten to breathe. And yet the space at her waist was warm, his palm seeming to mould to the shape of her, like it was what his hands had been made for.

“Odin has blessed me, it seems,” he muttered, his voice sultry in the dark.

Still, she didn’t move.

And Nesta thought of those hands— the hands he had on her, spanning her waist, his fingers at her spine as his thumb grazed her hip. Strong hands, firm. She swallowed, fighting the urge to pull herself away, grasping for composure as his thumb made another pass over her hip, a long swipe that had her blood heating.

She didn’t think of what it meant that he was a Dane.

Of the lives those hands had ended.

Of the monasteries on the coast, raided and burned to the ground.

He smiled at her, all lethal grace and beautiful, exhilarating possibility, and Nesta didn’t think of what it meant that his hands were soaked in Saxon blood.

And wasn’t this the worst kind of treachery— the most despicable treason? To not pull back from a Norseman’s touch, when a century’s worth of Saxon blood had been spilled at the hands of raiders just like him?

Maybe it was the mead. Maybe she’d lost her senses.

But damn her— when he held her, when he touched her, part of her wanted to fall right into him, like he was the sea, beautiful and dangerous, and she was standing alone at the edge of a cliff, hands outstretched.

She tilted towards him, each pounding beat of her heart resounding through her with a force that she thought could shatter a shield wall, and when his hand lifted to drag a finger down the column of her neck, lingering at her collarbone, she felt her eyelids flutter, her lips part. It was a question, an invitation, and she felt the heat of him, his lips so close to her own, and knew that he had understood, that the hand he still had circling her waist was an answer in and of itself.

And then—

From the direction of the hall, suddenly light spilled out into the street. Warm and golden and bright— a candle or a lantern, held in someone’s hand. Voices drifted out from the hall, loud and raucous, accompanied by footsteps. Whether a Dane returning home or a Saxon seeking their lodgings, Nesta didn’t wait to find out.

She hurled herself backwards, her mind clearing as the Dane’s hands slid from her waist.

In the absence of his touch, common sense came screaming back. She stood in the dark, in a foreign city, with a Dane’s hands on her— a Dane’s lips close enough to kiss. Madness. It was utter madness. No matter what peace had been agreed between her king and his…

He had killed his way to these shores.

She cleared her throat, putting a safe distance between them. When she glanced up, the moonlight illuminating the planes of his face, she expected to find anger colouring his cheeks, or displeasure narrowing his eyes— the signs she’d grown accustomed to when a man was robbed of what he desired. Instead there was mirth lining the corners of his generous mouth, the starlight reflected in his dark eyes. He didn’t look like a man who had been refused something— no, he looked like a man ready for a challenge, the smile playing on his lips telling her that this might as well have been a game to him.

And the chase, it seemed, had just begun.

“Good night, then,” he said, offering her a shallow bow as he took a step back. The moonlight gleamed along the edge of his seax, the sharp end of the blade shining like mercury in the darkness of the street, Kallon’s blood still staining the edge, and as the Dane rose to his full height, he shot her a wink that had her standing stunned.

“Good night,” she answered.

A grin answered her like a slash in the dark, one that imprinted itself in her memory, carved there like the beasts on the pillars in the hall. And as the Dane slipped away back into the shadows, Nesta didn’t look back as she made her way towards the rooms Rhysand had set aside for Alfred’s court, not daring to glance over her shoulder until she had reached the door, standing in the circle of candlelight emitted by the small tallow candle sitting on a ledge beside the window.

And a small distance away, like he’d followed a hundred paces behind to ensure she got back safely this time, Nesta saw a glint of silver— and that same smile, white in the dark.

Taglist: @asnowfern @podemechamardek @c-e-d-dreamer @lady-winter-sunrise @starryblueskies7 @melphss @sv0430 @that-little-red-head @misswonderflower @fwiggle @tanishab @xstarlightsupremex @burningsnowleopard @hiimheresworld @wannawriteyouabook @hereforthenessian @valkyriesupremacy @kale-theteaqueen @moodymelanist @talkfantasytome @pyxxie

#nessianweek2024 #nessian

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itsnotbird · 1 day

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Orphic~ File 5

Taciturn (adj.); Silent; not talkative

Warnings: mentions of abuse, drugs, withdrawal, violence, language.

Bucky!Barnes x Fem!Reader

Previous part here

Masterlist

“James.”

“It’s alright, James.”

He stirs, letting out a soft breath as you come into his vision. He’s not afraid of the hands that run through his hair, how your fingers gently stroke his jaw, showing him the softest comfort he’s ever known. He finds himself reaching for you, his hand twisting in your hair as his forehead presses to yours.

“Shh, I’m here now.” You soothe. “It’s okay.”

He shakes his head, eyes squeezing shut before they open, seeing you smile gently, laid beside him on the floor.

“No.” He mumbles, a hint of a whine trailing after the word.

“You’re a good man.” You promise him, nuzzling your nose to his.

“My hands are red.” He tells you, heart beat in his ears as your soft hand slips down his check to rest of the side of his neck.

“And yet, I trust them completely.” You whisper into his ear. “I could be good to you if you let me. Won’t you let me?”

As you slot your lips to his, you gasp in his air.

Bucky wakes up with a start, chest heaving. His eyes look around the bare apartment. It’s empty as always.

Hands pressed to his eyes, he mutters to himself, his teeth grit.

“Get out of my head.”

“Get out of my head!”

- - - -

You suddenly understand why people can’t stop addiction.

This feeling is comparable to physical abuse, something you know much about.

By some miracle, you’ve managed to get out of bed and shower. You put on your own clothes, the things you yourself picked out. It’s a good feeling, but as you walk to the kitchen, you think your teeth might just crack.

Coffee might help.

“Hello, Blue.”

You jump, turning to see Vision behind you.

You give a simple smile, then wave your hand up for a coffee mug to come into your grasp from the cabinet.

“Your abilities are very fascinating.” He states. “Have you tried to use them on yourself? To get rid of that feeling you have?”

You toss him a look over your shoulder.

Of course you tried. Unfortunately, the people who cursed you with these powers made sure you couldn’t inflict them on yourself, almost like a safety precaution so you wouldn’t end yourself when they weren’t looking.

You lean on the kitchen island and sip the coffee, cringing at the bitterness. The sugar jar drifts over, you scoop two spoonfuls in. You drink the coffee quickly, hoping it’ll settle you.

“I understand your urge to remain silent.” Vision says. “The others might find it odd but rest assured, I do not criticize you.”

You muster up the best smile you can, then pat his hand. In your opinion, if anyone was odd, it would be the one that is a large computer chip who looks like a dignified gentleman with blonde hair.

You respect his kindness.

Taking bland tasting wafers with you, you wander the halls, take the elevator to different parts of the compound. To your surprise, you don’t run into many people, the agents and workers that you do come across, they don’t speak to you.

After about twenty minutes of taking in your surroundings, you come across a file room on the third floor, meaning it was restricted access.

You jab your finger against the key pad, it blinks at you angrily.

With one simple flick of your hand, the door creaks open.

You laugh.

Wasn’t this supposed to be a high security facility?

You shut the door behind you and curiously look over the filing cabinets. They’re labeled all differently, separated into mission reports and previous alliances or enemies. You open the one that’s labeled ‘Tony’s Cult’, assuming that meant the information on the Avengers.

You bring a stack out and sit comfortably on the floor. Like a good book, you dive in, getting lost in abilities, missions, back stories.

It might be an invasion of privacy, but they all read your file so you assume you can read theirs. You learn birthday’s, quirks that are noted in, who has confirmed kills and who doesn’t. You laugh at the file of Peter Parker, because there’s not much there besides everything that screams ‘child with odd ability’.

You enjoy Steve’s, because it reminds you of the children’s books you read hundreds of times while in The Ring. He’s the hero, the one that saves the day. He is everything you were told you were going to be if you killed a man you didn’t know. He was given a gun for the good of America, you were given powers for the good of a rich family.

James Buchanan Barnes

‘The Winter Soldier’

Your fingers pause before they open the dusty folder.

This felt more like the stories they told you to scare you into behaving. This was your story.

Confirmed kills…

Hydra…

…war…

…Bucky and Steve…

…prisoner…

…brain washed…

…Deadly, be advised…

…assassin…

Your brows furrow, all these words spin in your mind. Holding up his military id photo, you smile at his charming face in a sergeant uniform. You compare it to the stone cold expression of The Winter Soldier, and determine it’s two different people you’re looking at.

There’s a rather awful photo of his left shoulder, how the skin is scarred and mangled as it meets silver metal.

You reach to feel the brand on the back of your neck, your nails scrape it.

- - - -

Natasha knocked on your bedroom door, only to be met with silence. Figuring you’re eating breakfast, she searches for you in the kitchen, only to find Steve and Sam play fighting with wooden spoons.

“Where’s Blue?” She asks the two boys who quickly drop their pretend weapons.

Steve clears his throat. “Asleep still, maybe.”

Nat shakes her head. “I was just at her room.”

“You try the MedBay? Doesn’t she get poked around this time?” Sam asks.

“Her infusions are done, that’s why I’m concerned. Last thing we need is an important asset to be passed out somewhere.” She stresses just as Wanda joins them.

“What’s wrong?” She asks.

“Have you seen Blue?” Steve asks.

Wanda shakes her head.

They split up, searching every room.

You put the files back the best you could after the shaky feeling became too much. You wrap your arms around your cramping sides, somehow making it back to the living space where you collapse on the couch.

“Jesus, where have you been?” Nat asks as she comes in to find you, but her concern grows as she takes in your pale expression.

“What’s wrong?” She comes to your side, soon joined by Steve and Wanda. “How do you feel?”

I’ve never been better.

You refrain from rolling your eyes, you continue to shiver.

“Bruce said she has to let the shakes run its course, they can’t keep giving her that stuff.” Nat states to the two that join as you roll onto your side.

“Here, let me.” Wanda comes forward, you see the red glow at her fingers and shuffle away in uncertainty.

“Blue, this won’t hurt.” She promises, placing here fingers an inch from your forehead as she tries to figure out what you need.

“She’s cold.”

Steve is quick to sit beside you, pulling you to lay on his lap.

Wanda’s face twists in the agony you feel. “There’s nothing we can give her?”

“Uh…baby aspirin?” Steve offers.

You try to think of something that has felt worse, maybe the first injection of the serum, how it burned in your veins. That felt pretty bad. But though you’ve experienced multiple parts of hell, this was certainly new.

“They’ve lowered the dosage for a month, should it be effecting her this bad?” Steve asks, his hand on your shaky shoulder.

Nat comes back with a wet rag, wiping your clammy forehead. “This isn’t a drug you buy from a dealer in his mom’s basement, Steve, this stuff could kill somebody with a normal system. They’ve been giving it to her like candy for fifteen years, she’s become dependent on it and now her body is trying to figure out how to function.”

Steve takes the rag and keeps it to your skin as he grumbles. “You could’ve just said yes.”

Your head lolls, a sort of hallucination wiping over your vision. You groan with discomfort.

“I can put her to sleep, maybe she’ll sleep it off?” Wanda offers.

Sure, sleep off the deadliest withdrawal known to man.

Despite your doubt, you feel a relief wash over you as Wanda shuts your eyes.

Oh…this is nice.

- - - -

At some point, Steve left you when he was sure you wouldn’t wake. Covered in a blanket, you lay peacefully on the sofa.

That’s how Bucky finds you.

He wasn’t expecting to come across you, but his feet are now planted as he stares down at you. It’s a bitter feeling in him, you sleeping soundly, having no idea of the anguish you’ve caused him. He could hate you for it, he probably should.

…but…

He just wants to see, just wants to answer one of the many questions he has. Carefully, he reaches for the hand that rest on your chest.

It doesn’t shock him like before.

It just makes him angry, actually. It felt the same as in that terror from the night, that oddly soothing touch that will never be meant for him.

He drops your hand, huffing to himself.

Somehow, he feels worse now.

“Dude.”

He snaps his head up at the voice, seeing Sam stand there with raised brows.

Fuck.

“How long have you been there?” Bucky asks, swallowing nervously.

“Uh, long enough to see you go all creepy stalker mode.” Sam responds, coming closer. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Bucky answers quickly and defensively.

“Didn’t look like nothing.”

He glares, then moves away from you and closer to Sam. “Drop it, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” He bites.

Sam’s eyes widen. “Do you even know what you’re talking about?”

“…No. I don’t know.”

As Bucky storms off, Sam is hot on his heels.

“You want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I feel like you want to talk about it.”

Bucky turns around swiftly. “You’re gonna be feeling something else if you don’t lay off.”

Sam raises his hands in defense. “Fine, suffer in silence, you damn cyborg.”

Bucky desperately tries to remember the rules his therapist gave him, more specifically rule number two.

Nobody gets hurt.

He has the urge to break that one.

Despite his pace, Sam keeps up with him.

“You know what, I get it. I get it. She’s mysterious, a little weird, like you, and she’s gorgeous. Of course you’d be obsessed with her.”

Bucky’s metal hand clenches in irritation. “I am not obsessed with her.”

Sam laughs over dramatically, clapping a hand onto Bucky’s shoulder. “That’s funny, that’s really good, you should be a comedian.”

Bucky zeros in on the contact he makes. “Remove your hand before I do it for you.”

Sam snatches it away. “You’re a little aggressive, you need to have an emergency session with your Doc?”

He manages to make it to his room without putting Sam through a wall. He thinks that’s improvement.

Leaning against the window, he rubs his head and tries to get those words out of his mind.

He wasn’t obsessed with you, just mildly interested in how you’re stitching yourself into his already fried brain. Of course you weren’t doing it on purpose, but you were doing it and it made him feel like he was slowly going crazy.

He does those stupid breathing exercises Raynor told him to do, cracks his neck, then leaves for the training room where Steve was expecting him.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #bucky #the avengers #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes series #james barnes #steve rogers #captain america

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greensagephase · 2 days

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Just realized how much I love the way you write your Miguel. Like instead of oversexualizing, making him animalistic or just straight up a dick (even tho he kindof is sometimes, let's be honest-)

I just love how you dive in his current trauma (not too long ago his mom got zombified like marvel give bro a break plz), include trust issues and his mental problems, while not breaking his character. You made him stubborn, a little proud, but still show slight vulnerability, and so many unsaid words. Hell, you might be one of the best Miguel writers I've ever seen on here!

I love the slow burn in NC, it makes Miguel seem more like a real person, with unbearable trauma and trust issues, who's main way to 'cope' is "by leading a society of Peter Parkers who can't pay their rent on time" (from the ATSV artbook), and as someone with a mental health too similar to Miguel's I can see myself in him (THAT'S A COMPLIMENT) with a slow build of trust

While I sometimes do enjoy a bit of smut, most of the time, it's too fast. Too quick, like- CALM DOWN LADIES (and gents), I DON'T THINK MIGUEL'S GONNA EAT YOU OUT ON THE COUNTER IN THE KITCHEN LIKE EMPANADAS

ALSO DID U KNO HE'S BI???

Hiii, Dino!!! Thank you for the ask, pookie!! 🥰 Also, I'm sorry for taking a few days to answer your ask. I took a few days off tumblr due to life :))

But omg, thank you!! I appreciate the kind words so much, and I’m happy that you love NC!Miguel and the slow burn! 🥹 Also, I’m glad you appreciate the acknowledgement of Miguel’s issues, traumas, and mental state within the fic. I’m no expert; no psychologist nor professional writer, but as the story expanded, I decided that I’d like to dive into Miguel’s story a little more, this being a Spider-Man Miguel fic after all, and one that’s attempting to portray Miguel as realistic as possible (or at least the way I see him and think he’d be like), so that entails including his issues, traumas, and mental state, too.

I know this has led to some chapters being a little delicate, overwhelming, and/or sad (and I’m sorry to anyone who has ever felt down or cried reading NC because they resonated with this content, or the emotions got a little too much. This has never been my intention ):), but I believe it’s important to address, especially because his issues, traumas, and mental state overall are big contributors to his behaviour and mindset in ATSV. As I said, I’m no expert, but just from what I learned in college and have learned throughout the years with personal experiences (seen close people dealing with similar issues like those Miguel has faced and is facing), I know healing from such traumas is important to move forward with life. I also know it takes time, which is a big reason why this fic is a slow burn.

I want Miguel to find himself in a healthy and positive mindset, learn to trust others, and know that he is worthy of love and friendships before he finds himself in a romantic relationship. I’ve yapped too much, but I’m glad that you appreciate that, even though these can be sensitive themes/discussions. Thank you! Also, I’m touched that you can see yourself in NC!Miguel and how he slowly begins to allow himself to trust someone. I hope that as the story progresses, you can continue to see yourself in him in a non-harmful way (I never wish to portray mental health negatively nor disrespect/offend someone)! 💖

And hehehe, your comment about the smut and empanadas has me laughing! 🤣 But I hope you can find more fics with a slower pace regarding that aspect though! I know there’s awesome and talented writers who continue to write for Miguel on here that feed my delusions about this man and post very regularly (thank you Miguel writers - ily 🥰), so keep your eyes open and support what you enjoy reading!!

ALSO, yes, but also no?? I saw a tweet a very long time ago of Oscar Isaac apparently saying Miguel was bi, but idk if it’s canon because I haven’t read any of the comics 😞 (all the plot lines within NC that align with the comics have been researched from other sources). Is it confirmed in the comics? :))

Thank you so much for the ask!! I hope you’re having a great day/night, Dino!! Pls take care!! 🫶🏼💖

Alondra❤️

#I just want Miguel to heal and move forward #to get a happy ending in my fic at least #why do the writers (the professional ones) hate Miguel so much???#give this man a break!!#spider-verse writers I beg you to give him a happy ending pls #alondra's answers 🍁#nonviolent communication #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman

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authormars · 2 days

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So you have any headcanons for the obey me cast future kids? I love seeing and hearing about those

While I think I already have made a post about them, I'll gladly talk about them again!!

Lucifer/Diavolo

If you read my blog, you know I ship Dialuci. Diavolo and Lucifer have four kids. One boy and triplet girls. Luci didn't really want the last three, but via magical conception, Dia forced it.

Their oldest is named Demonio Barbatos Morningstar Rex. He looks almost exactly like Diavolo and acts exactly like Lucifer. He's the crowned prince, though he has no desire for the throne.

The oldest triplet is named Alecto Lilith Morningstar Rex. She has black hair and red eyes. Her skin is dark like Dia's and she has his smile, but she has Luci's feathered wings. She's very outgoing and wants the throne.

The middle triplet is named Megaera Azalea Morningstar Rex. She has black hair and pale skin, but other than that she looks like Diavolo (he has the strongest fucking genes, man). She's not outgoing, but she's not quiet either. She's a troublemaker

The youngest triplet is named Tisiphone Metztli Morningstar Rex. She has red eyes and tan skin, but she also looks a whole lot like Diavolo. She's on the quieter side and acts a lot like Satan.

Mammon

If you know my future au, you know that my MC(s) aren't in a poly relationship with all the brothers. I'll get to what each MC (Female, male, and non-binary) get up to later.

Mammon marries a siren demoness from the wrath ring named Aezorin (Zori for short). They have two daughters.

The oldest is Kairi Lorelei Idreius. She is a trans woman. She's very nice and responsible, but also has quite the temper. She has white hair and blue eyes like her father and the dark skin and height of her mother.

The youngest is Rezarta Marigold (Goldie) Idreius. She has gold hair and blue eyes, as well as lighter dark skin like her father. She's very chaotic and has the greed of her father. She's a siren.

Satan

Satan gets with a very nice, small albino bat greed demoness. Her name is Metztli (Metzi) Rex and she's the adoptive sister of Diavolo.

Satan really wanted to prove he could be a good dad to a son, so he adopted a boy named Neo Diavolo (chosen by Metzi) Morningstar.

Neo is a very traumatized little boy who's selectively mute (I think that's what the term is) He's a chameleon demon, so he copied his appearance to look like Satan.

Beelzebub

Beel gets married to a wonderful trans woman gluttony demon named Dahlia. She's a bee demon. Not important, I just like to mention it. They have three children. A daughter and twins.

The oldest is Chiyoko Lilith Toth. She's quiet and responsible. She takes care of her younger siblings. She's the oldest of all the kids. She has her mother's black and yellow hair and her father's pale skin. Her eyes are purple like her dad.

The twins are Yuzuki Belphegor Toth and Akino Lucifer Toth. Yuzuki looks a weird amount like Belphie and Akino looks like Beel. Yuzuki is the older boy and Akino is the younger girl.

Mephistopheles

Might as well include the Diavolo lover. He gets married to a fellow Duke named Dantalion Iram (Dante). If you want to learn more about that guy, go read Jealous Boy (shameless self promotion)

They have four kids. Two girls, two boys. I don't have names for them yet because I don't think about Mephisto, so if you have name suggestions, feel free to give them to me!

Simeon

Simeon ends up with M!MC (who also doesn't have a name...) They have one kid, a girl. She's named Riley. She looks mostly like Simeon with a bit of MC's characteristics.

You might be thinking. But Mars! What about everyone else? Well, everyone else doesn't have kids or I haven't made them yet. But! Here's who everyone ends up with.

Levi: Adra, who's a friend from his nerd clubs. They don't know whether they're dating or just friends. They don't have kids.

Asmo: Solomon and two other partners named Dev and Ari. Dev is an incubus and Ari is a succubus. They don't have kids.

Belphie: Aroace!! He lives with Beel, Dahlia, and their kids.

Barbatos: Aroace!! He takes care of the Dialuci kids when Luci is too exhausted and Dia is being the child he is at heart.

Raphael: Aroace!! He lives in the Celestial Realm

Thirteen: F!MC! MC becomes a reaper and they live happily ever after.

NB!MC: Aroace!! They're chilling in the human realm and learned how to be immortal from Solomon. They still hang out with him a lot.

This post was very long. Sorry. If you want any more information about this, search the tag Future AU on my page :D. Or send an ask!!

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3-2-whump · 3 days

Text

Mistaken Accusation

<prev

Well, let's get into it. Beginning of the end. Special thanks to my beta readers @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz ! Do mind the tags, and enjoy

This chapter does reference The Hit, so please skim that first if you are not already familiar with it

Author's Note: This is where shit gets real (more real, that is), and where the author may make some decisions that might not vibe with the readers. To those readers, all I will say is fanfiction is a thing, canon divergence is a thing, and I will honestly be more intrigued than mad if you end up scrapping this part and writing your own version! (Just lmk, like tag me or dm me so I can see?) But, um, yeah, onto the chapter!

TW/CW: description and mention of STD, prostitution whump, mock execution, gun violence (brief, but there), collared whumpee, bound and blindfolded whumpee, shock, emotional whump, fear of death, pissing oneself out of fear, emotional angst, degrading language, toxic relationship, manipulative whumper, possessive whumper, intimate whumper

As Khaled relieved himself in the office bathrooms near the end of the day, he hissed under his breath at the burning sensation coming out of him. That can’t be good, he thought. What would make it feel like he was passing acid or fire down there? He looked down at his dick, eyes widening a little as he saw how inflamed his urethra looked. Khaled let out a mortified little squeak. What’s wrong with my penis?

Should I tell Master? Telling his master that he suspected he’d caught something would only lead to probing questions about Khaled’s sex life, even though he wasn’t the one who had visited every whorehouse within the tristate area. Probing questions about his sex life would mean admitting that he was sleeping with Julio, and admitting that he was sleeping with Julio would only fuel his master’s possessive side and make things far worse for him. Khaled could imagine no situation in which he would come out unscathed if he told Thomas about it. So, he decided not to tell him.

He didn’t have to endure his secret for long though, because as soon as he came back into his master’s office, he could sense the energy had changed.

“Is there something wrong, Boss?” Khaled asked nervously.

“I have just received information from our foot soldiers and informants that the motorcycle that my would-be assassin rode when he got away came from Alvarez Auto and Motorcycles, a known front of Juicio Divino,” Thomas gritted out.

Khaled’s jaw dropped as his mind slowly put together the pieces that he had in his hands all along. Of course, it was Julio, how could I be so blind?! he thought. Just over a year ago, Khaled himself approached the scrapyard assassin asking him to teach him how to kill, and had been crawling back to him in various states of distress ever since. Julio was one of two people on earth who knew how badly Thomas actually treated him, and, combined with his overprotective tendencies, Khaled mentally beat himself up for not suspecting his boyfriend sooner.

His master’s stormy gray eyes narrowed at Khaled in a piercing glare as he pushed his tablet across the desk. “Incidentally, you have been visiting Alvarez Auto pretty frequently over the past year, haven’t you?”

Khaled’s stomach twisted in dread as he leaned in closer to read it. There, opened on his slave tracking app, was a map with pins of most-frequently visited locations he had been tracked to, and there was a damning bright red pin at the address of Julio’s garage. His mouth went dry as he opened and closed it in shock, trying to collect the right words to say as the opportunity to beg for mercy slipped through his fingers like sand. “I- Master, I- it’s not what you think-”

The older man disdainfully held up a hand, a nonverbal cue that he didn’t want to hear it. Khaled shrank in on himself. “How did you even pay for a hit against me, huh?” the boss asked. “I know you haven’t made that much money since I’ve started paying you! How could you afford to put out a hit?” His voice lowered to a growl. “Did you bend over for that cholo son of a bitch? Did you let him fuck you like I fuck you? Is that why you’ve got an infection –don’t deny it, Khaled, it hurt when I pissed this morning!”

The world seemed to stop as the air quickly left Khaled’s lungs. Wait, what? He was being accused of conspiring against his master, then of being a whore within the same breath? And to make matters worse, he somehow gave his owner an STD before he realized he had one himself? His breaths came out shallow as his body began trembling in fear. What does this mean for me? What’s going to happen to me? He nearly passed out as his imagination went wild with how severe his punishment would be. “Master, please, I had no idea-”

“Shut up!”

Khaled ceased his begging instantly, a nauseous wave of dread coiling in his stomach as he waited for his master to dole out his sentence. “You will never see anybody besides me again,” his master said, glowering at him in contempt as Khaled’s eyes widened in horror. He got up from his chair and circled around Khaled, with a familiar black shock collar and a length of chain in hand. “I’ll give you a chance to say your goodbyes before we leave.”

Khaled regained enough of his senses to shake his head and back away from the man approaching him. “But, Master, I didn’t-”

The world snapped to the right in a stinging blow as Thomas backhanded him. Khaled rubbed his sore cheek and winced in pain. “You’re lucky I don’t outright kill you, though I still might, if you keep whining like that!” he yelled. Khaled turned silent and sullen, still cradling his sore cheek as the collar tightened like a noose around his throat. “Now, come on, let’s make your final goodbyes count.” His master attached the chain leash to a notch in the shock collar and pulled Khaled towards the exit.

Khaled was pulled through the whole office and out to the guard shack like that, stopping periodically as his master made him explain what was going on and why he was leaving to everyone they met. Khaled’s voice was shaking like a leaf the first stop they made; by the time they made it to the guard shack, he was unable to utter anything intelligible past his tears. Nico’s jaw dropped as Thomas explained what had happened and why Khaled was never going to see him again.

“But, he didn’t do it, sir!” he objected, pushing himself out of his desk chair and standing up to face him. “He had no part in it! I can prove it, just listen to me!”

As much as Khaled wanted to interrogate that ‘I can prove it’ claim just a little more, Tom ignored him. He pulled the leash taut and yanked Khaled away. Khaled frantically pulled at the collar around his neck, emitting choked gasps as he stumbled along and struggled to keep up.

They ended up back at the car, where Tom unclipped his leash and pushed the button on the key fob to unlock the trunk of the car. Khaled was shoved up roughly against the side of the car as his hands were gathered behind his back and bound tightly by a soft and silky material, most likely a necktie. “Master, please, please, hear me out –I didn’t put a hit on you, I swear!” he once again tried to explain through a mess of snot and tears. “I don’t want to kill you, why would I want to kill you? Please –listen to me! I don’t want to kill you; I swear I didn’t know!” Thomas dragged him to the back of the car, where he stared down at him in cold fury. He took out a dark cloth from his pocket and unfolded it. Khaled preemptively opened his mouth to receive it, but then the man tied the cloth around his eyes to blind him. He quietly shut his mouth as the blindfold was tied tight enough to catch his hair. He heard the trunk of the car quietly whoosh open before he was picked up and shoved inside. The door of the trunk slammed shut, sealing him in an extra layer of darkness.

The ride seemed to stretch on forever as Khaled shivered in the darkness. It was still far too cold to be riding back there without anything to keep him warm. Throughout the darkness he begged, then screamed, then cried, then sniffled, knowing damn well his master couldn’t hear him.

Time seemed to work differently in the dark, cramped confines of a car trunk. Khaled was unsure of how much time had passed since he was shoved in the trunk, but he was more than concerned that they seemed to keep driving far longer than it usually took to get back to the apartments. He’s never going to forgive me, he realized as he rested his head onto the floor of the trunk. He really thinks I planned to kill him, and now he’s going to take me out into the woods and kill me, or do something so horrific it will make me wish I had died. A fresh round of tears soaked into his blindfold as Khaled whimpered pathetically. I don’t want to die, not like this.

Goddamnit, Julio, you tried to be the hero, and now I’m gonna end up dead in a ditch somewhere, Khaled cursed in his head.

The car rolling to a stop and faint click that preceded the trunk unlocking made Khaled’s heartrate speed up. A new wave of anxiety hit him much like the blast of midwinter air when the trunk was opened and he was pulled out. He didn’t feel concrete underneath his shoes, and the fresh icy chill of the air around him told him they weren’t in the parking garage. We really are in the woods somewhere, he thought, his hopes sinking like lead as his master’s hand gripped his elbow and steered him along to an unknown destination. He’s really driven me out to the woods somewhere to kill me. Khaled stumbled as his foot hit an unseen obstruction, but his master dragged him along regardless. This is it. I’m gonna die. His breaths started picking up, heart racing as that last thought worked him up into another nervous state. His owner stopped and threw him forward onto the ground. Khaled landed face first into a cold and wet patch of snow, judging on how it felt when it absorbed his impact. “Get up and kneel.” Khaled’s breaths stopped in his throat. There was no room in his master’s frigid tone for argument. He pushed himself up the best he could with his hands bound behind his back, shivering not just from the cold as he assumed a kneeling position.

A cold, metallic object pressed against the back of the young man’s skull. “If you’ve got anything to say, say it now,” his master’s voice said behind him. A wet and warm spot began to soak his pants in the front. Khaled’s mind went blank. He was so scared he nearly forgot his owner had asked for his last words. He caught his trembling lip between his teeth before shaking his head. Whatever he could say for his last words would go unheeded anyway, lost in the winter’s chill and the indifferent New England woods. He hung his head in resignation, ready for the explosive pain followed by sudden oblivion and nothingness, or whatever it was that lie ahead.

He had at least hoped he would see his father’s face before the end. But the only image his shielded eyes could conjure up before he died was a pair of sharp, steel gray eyes.

Click.

Nothing happened.

The gun lowered, and heavy footsteps crunched in the snow as his would-be executioner walked around to the front of him.

Khaled was still alive. Somehow, he was still alive. There was a light brush of hands reaching behind his head before the blindfold fell away, revealing a familiar face staring down at him with those same steel gray eyes. Khaled’s breath shimmered in the cold moonlit night. He was alive. He wasn’t going to die. He was alive.

All the fear and tension left his body like his vaporous breath in the night as he slumped forward, crying tears of relief into his master’s shoulder as he caught him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he sobbed between each breath.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Thomas soothed as he reached behind Khaled to untie his hands. “I believe you for now, it’s alright.” As soon as his hands were free, Khaled wrapped them around the older man’s neck, hugging him close as he bawled into his shoulder. “I thought about it, but there is no way I can definitively prove it was you.” A muscular pair of arms wrapped around him and held him close, drawing him into the warmth. “And besides, my favorite fuck toy, plotting to kill me?” His master laughed. “No way you’re smart enough for that! I didn’t buy you for your brains, you know!”

“Yes, yes, I’m stupid, I am so fucking stupid, thank you!” Khaled cried. He nuzzled his cold wet face into Tom’s warm neck and peppered the man’s jawline with kisses, murmuring his gratitude between every kiss. He was alive, he didn’t die, and that was the only thing that mattered in that moment.

“Let’s go home,” Thomas said, hoisting Khaled onto his feet. “The takeout I bought is getting cold, and you need a change of pants.”

He led the young man through the woods back to side of the road where he had parked his car. “I was completely serious about you never seeing anybody else again, by the way,” he reminded him as he opened the passenger side door. Khaled slid gratefully inside, happy to be in the heated part of the car. “You are relieved of your duties to the organization from now on,” Tom continued as he joined him on the driver’s side, “You are demoted to domestic service. You will stay at home and keep the penthouse spotless, welcoming me to it every evening with warm food and your warmer body. You will stay in the apartment and not leave for anything unless it is with me or a trusted associate. You will never see anybody again. That’ll keep you from conspiring to kill me, or from spreading your legs for anyone else but me, and only I will decide when it’s time to bring you back out again.” He pushed the button and started up the vehicle, setting the heaters to full blast.

Khaled nodded. What did he care about being stuck at home and never seeing anybody again? He was alive, and right now, as he held his freezing fingers close to the vents, that was all that mattered.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire

#whump writing #description of and mention of STD #mock execution #prostitution whump #tw gun violence #brief but its there #collared whumpee #blindfolded whumpee #bound whumpee #emotional whump #emotional angst #fear of death #whumpee pisses themself out of fear #degrading language #toxic relationship whump #manipulative whumper #possessive whumper #intimate whumper #this one was a ride folks‚ but it'll cool down from here

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saintsenara · 3 days

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oooo as an unhinged ship, if it hasn’t come up before, hermione x regulus. (meaning book hermione and book regulus, not their fanon equivalents who we may safely assume can slip right into “good girl gone bad x unreasonably hot wealthy man” without trouble, and need no further consideration. idc about them. i like losers). what we know about regulus is minimal, but we can imagine for the sake of the bit that if he somehow survived, he just might have a little interest in SPEW, and canonically, hermione does go for a youngest son with fluctuating self esteem. regulus also loves making pinterest boards for his passions (which include domestic terrorism but all the same), while hermione is known to color code and decorate her study schedules. i’m curious to know your thoughts 👀 both crack-wise and more genuinely, as i love your analyses of how characters with severe divides could — or could not — reconcile their differences and overcome the obstacles.

(their biggest obstacle, of course, is harry, who bursts in on them at least three times a day to demand hermione explain why she went for the clearly less good looking brother. men are always like “i’m fighting demons” and the demons are unexplored bisexuality.)

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

while describing hermione's type as "youngest son with fluctuating self esteem" is apposite, regulus strikes me as someone as someone whose self esteem is sufficiently bulletproof that his issue is with a world which - as he sees it - doesn't respect how special and extraordinary he is, rather than feeling overlooked because he believes himself to be less special and less loved than those around him.

[hence signing his camp little note with his initials, assuming reading it will snatch voldemort's wig off and throw it across the room, when what actually happens is the dark lord doesn't even notice he's missing and undoubtedly thinks his name is reginald.]

would he enjoy being constantly nagged by hermione [which is how she expresses to those she loves that she loves them]? eh... i doubt it. although i am compelled by the crack potential of regulus joining spew for a quiet life, and helping the missus glitter-glue posters. the couple that crafts together stays together.

but what i actually think would be most interesting about these two - as i've also said in reference to shipping hermione with bellatrix - is that they have a couple of shared traits which could mesh very interestingly: an enormous capacity for loyalty and a slightly naive, slightly childlike tendency towards seeing what they want to see.

i've said this before, but hermione's astonishing loyalty is one of her most impressive traits - and contributes, in fact, far more to her role in the series than her intelligence. but it comes with the flip-side that she also - since her loyalty is directly intertwined with her inflexibility, which is her most fundamental trait, in both positive [she's resilient, logical, etc.] and negative [she's argumentative, narrow-minded, etc.] ways - has a slightly hagrid-ish tendency towards blind faith.

her inflexibility - especially the difficulty she has with considering multiple viewpoints - also contributes to her naivety. i do think it's striking, given the fanon tendency - gleaned from the films, which massively overplay this - for her to be portrayed as exponentially more mature than harry and ron that she is, in many ways, the most child-like of the trio: harry begins deathly hallows by throwing away most of his school trunk, hermione takes her schoolbooks on the run as comfort items; hermione believes that she's overthrowing the institution of slavery at hogwarts because the hats she knits vanish overnight; the item left to her in dumbledore's will is a book of fairy stories; etc.

both of these - loyalty and naivety, with the positive and negative things each of them brings - is also the regulus special. he sacrifices his life in an act of absolutely breathtaking loyalty to kreacher - which is directly caused by the humiliation he feels over his blind faith in voldemort being revealed to be misguided, and, specifically, is caused by the realisation that his initial view of voldemort as someone who wanted to bump off all the mudbloods and let pureblood families rule as oligarchs over a society which was, otherwise, fundamentally unchanged in terms of social structure etc. was extraordinarily naive. the dark lord wants to live forever, and he doesn't give a fuck who gets hurt on the way.

i do think there could be something quite compelling about the two of them either having to untangle their fairly rigid approaches to life - and how much of knock that might be to their self esteem. i also think there's something to be said for each of them seeing in the other what they want to see, and being completely unwilling to do otherwise.

you are correct to note that harry would be gagged.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #unhinged and deranged ships #regulus black #hermione granger

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heartorbit · 3 months

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heartbeat

#project sekai #pjsk #tsukasa tenma #prsk #proseka #prosekai #idfk.#colorful stage #yeah sure man #feel free to squint for ruikasa theres yaoi everywhere with those for the eyes to see i guess #thought it was funny w the howl tsukasa art when ppl jsut tagged assuming it was ruikasa. do howl and calcifer have yaoi ?#i read the book and i think calcifer can do better. idk.#Not doing so great but its way easier for me to post here than twt or insta or whatever so.#you get a month old wip i wont have the will nor time nor happiness to finish #i wanted to say I might not draw or post for a while but well 1 every time i say that i feel like drawing right after.#and it helps me cope or whatever. who cares. but 2. i post once a month anyways. so adios

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journey-to-the-attic · 1 year

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au where this was how ik and diavolo met for the first time when she was like seven

#obey me #art #they're reading 'the nine lives of montezuma' by michael morpugo by the way #it's about a cat called montezuma and it ends sadly. ik knows this because she's read it already but she wants to see if demons can cry #there's also very devout christian little girl later in the book and i just find the idea of diavolo encountering that character funny #obey me diavolo #jtta ik #slams hands on table how the HELL do you draw ROOMS!!!!!!#peep the incredibly thin lego house. that's all they could find enough bricks to build #also if you zoom in on the piece of paper (and turn it upside down) there's someone else making a little cameo #is it easy enough to tell who it is?? who knows #anyway yeah diavolo drew lucifer and ik drew herself and her dad (you can see zhao's glasses on one of the little figures)#when zhao gets home he sees the massive demon and passes out immediately #i think he and diavolo would make good friends actually. diavolo is the supportive ayi to his single fatherhood #one day dia's like 'man that guy's lonely so he sits him down like 'you know zhao i have a friend who might be your type'#infernal friends au

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khattikeri · 3 months

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i don't think enough people talk about how the backbone of nie huaisang's plan hinged heavily upon jin guangyao's low birth, and the jianghu's willingness to dogpile on such people.

nie huaisang is upper class. he's specifically stated in the novel as behaving more like the idle rich than like a distinguished second young master of one of the five great cultivation sects, but he's still an heir by birth. even if nie huaisang had been more openly caught, who would do anything to him?

wei wuxian notices that bicao's testimony was bought with a few shiny baubles— that nie huaisang was the one who bribed her with a nice bracelet for her testimony. he intentionally kept his own sect half dead, barely afloat for years, just to keep up the guise of an incompetent loser!

but the only actual consequence he's faced for such poor leadership that probably hurt a lot of common folks in his territory over 13 years is that people think nie huaisang is an annoying, useless crybaby. nie huaisang has a level of protection from consequences that jin guangyao had to fight much harder for (and that jin guangyao ultimately never truly got).

nie huaisang knew his own class and social position extremely well, and he knew how most people of that position behave and think. he was more than willing to use this in his revenge.

we know lan wangji is the type to use his wealth and position to do good for others. nie huaisang is the opposite— he's the type to use his wealth and position for himself and his own personal goals.

and this wasn't just something that started after his brother died! avoiding responsibilities, never carrying his sword, ignoring the fact that he wasn't honoring his sect or ancestors the way others wanted… his underground ring of selling porn as a teenager even got him out of the worst part of the wen indoctrination camps, because he bribed the wen cultivators overseeing everyone else.

my point is, nie huaisang is self-aware enough to know he doesn't really ever do the "right" thing! at no point in the story does he delude himself or others with grand ideals of how one ought to behave. he doesn't care.

unlike almost every single other upper class cultivator in the story— jiang cheng, jin zixuan, nie mingjue, lan xichen— who all think of themselves as righteous in a way, who are always able to justify their thoughts and actions, rarely if ever able to conceive of those thoughts and actions as flawed or wrong... nie huaisang KNOWS his own selfishness.

like lan wangji, nie huaisang recognizes that his class can easily be used as a shield to do whatever he wants. while lan wangji at worst uses this nifty privilege to silence people he doesn't like, refuse to explain himself in inconvenient situations, and bring wei wuxian along with him everywhere, nie huaisang uses it to shirk his duties for decades and tear jin guangyao apart in revenge.

jin guangyao being the son of a prostitute automatically amplifies bad rumors around him. bringing to light his incestuous marriage and the gruesome way he murdered his upper class father, however deserved, is obviously going to impact him in a way that someone higher class wouldn't be as hurt by. combining that with a final lie to get his sworn brother to stab him in a flash of doubt, and well...

is that good or righteous or just? no, of course not. nie huaisang doesn't spend any time pretending that his actions were conducted based on morality, or that he "had no choice".

nie huaisang just wanted to destroy jin guangyao, and damn did it feel good to finally do it.

#keri chats #nie huaisang #mdzs #mdzs spoilers #mo dao zu shi #Nie Huaisang Is A Callous Careless Self-Aware Rich Man Who Weaponized His Social Class Against The Guy Who Killed His Brother #I LOVE NHS SO MUCH OKAY BUT I MIGHT GO CRAZY IF MORE PPL INSINUATE HES RIGHTEOUS OR ''GOOD'' LOLLLL #i mean yea girlboss!! but i rly hope ppl r aware nhs is a man who's purposely written to embody the worst aspects of cultivator society.#also his plan was Not a deep orchestrated plot he outlined key points and improv'd that shit as best he could LMAO #also just bc NHS gets away with what he does doesn't make him morally grey. the narrative doesn't consider him a good person.#he's just the one who came out on top by the end of the book #other things: im sure ppl easily see why i'd consider jc jzx & nmj as not self-aware rich folks but lxc is a lot more subtle and #occasionally self-pitying in how he depicts himself and his clan to make them always conveniently seem like the good guys #even when he's recounting the story of how he +33 elders drew their swords against his injured stubborn younger brother.#if u read this whole messy unorganized post and my tags i love u. if u agree with me i Love u.

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the-judicial-assistants-notebook · 9 months

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sits up in bed. so lana and ema definitely thought they were responsible for edgeworth "choosing death", right?

(the rest of this post was supposed to go in the tags, because it's not very well organised or written, but it got too long so. here are the slightly edited tags for your reading pleasure (or otherwise)):

i was going to make this solely about ema because she's the obvious one with her open adoration of edgeworth, but the thing about rfta is that it goes to great lengths to emphasise the connection between lana and edgeworth as well.

the sl-9 incident showed that lana grows attached to people deeply, hence angel starr's comment on how, when neil marshall died, 'she (lana) felt like her own brother had died.' with edgeworth, i think it was similar but worse. because he's not just a coworker or subordinate who's dear to her. he saved her life. and it cost him his own.

at the beginning of the case, edgeworth says he was mistaken for thinking that lana was always looking out for him post sl-9 (a statement interesting on its own because that's when everyone else says she grew distant), and, later on, he brings ema fingerprinting powder because lana asked him to. then, of course, there's the 'lady luck' comment he makes.

similarly, on lana's side, you obviously have the end of the trial when she says he did well, but there's also that additional moment post-trial where she's the only one to notice — in a group comprising her, ema, phoenix and gumshoe — that he's 'hiding', listening to their conversation. point is, there's enough to suggest that she might have been the nearest thing edgeworth had to a mia; his 'chief prosecutor' to phoenix's plain 'chief'. they're as close as two people can be in a relationship where one of them is constantly lying and the other is von karma's star pupil.

rfta is pretty straightforwardly depicted as the case which solidified edgeworth's resolve to do what he did; i don't think i have to prove that. rumours about him have reached new heights, his car and knife were involved in goodman's murder, he makes an unprecedented mistake in court by failing to connect the evidence room and carpark incidents, thus forcing the chief of police to enter the trial to do so himself, and he's publicly revealed to have relied on falsified evidence to secure a conviction in the sl-9 case, all of which only happened because of lana. jake marshall even claims that from the beginning — that if you trace edgeworth's rumours back to their source, you end up meeting one person: lana skye.

and it gets worse because at the end of rfta, she thinks he's fine!! she literally says, 'i was afraid the pressure would break you, but you rose above it,' and reminds him he's nothing like gant because he's not alone. she leaves the case thinking he will be okay. and then, what, like a week passes, and she finds out that he wasn't, and that he's gone, and it's her fault. even after she was freed from gant's control, even after she had finally stopped lying, she couldn't prevent herself from claiming another life. so much for 'lady luck', i suppose.

and the game reiterates this multiple times. gumshoe states at the start that edgeworth's ties to those higher up in the department have made him the subject of constant rumours, and phoenix says (in front of ema) that he shouldn't be held responsible for the forged evidence because that was all lana's doing, which then leads to edgeworth commenting (again in front of ema) that he feels as though 'something inside him has died.' it all goes back to lana. we can argue and say that it was technically gant's doing that caused all of this, but lana still took actions that led to it. even her complicated friendship with edgeworth isn't spared; it's that closeness between them that exacerbated those rumours. how could she not feel responsible in some way?

and with ema, it's rather obvious, isn't it? if she hadn't gone poking her nose into things, none of this would have happened or come to light. and, of course, she'd never choose anyone over her sister, not for anything in the world — it's simply not a question, but that's the problem, isn't it? it's not a question. it's not some hypothetical moral dilemma. it just is. she may not have killed neil marshall, but she still has one king of prosecutor's blood on her hands. and now she has to live with that. she just. has. to live with it. no matter if he chose otherwise.

moving on from that a little, i think it's actually wild how much of ema's journey to becoming a forensics investigator is paved with bad memories. neil marshall's death and her subsequent inability to testify are what drives her to begin pursuing it, her first proper investigation results in her idol's "death" and when she finally graduates, the person who saved her sister has been disbarred, and she can't even help because she isn't allowed to. all that pain and constant pursuit of her goals, and she's still the same ema skye, still that girl shrouded in darkness, always one step behind the truth, one step a little too late. no wonder she was angry in aa:aj. i would be furious.

#and then like a year later they find out edgeworth's fine and if that happened to me i think i would kill him fr #WKSHDKAHDKS #lana skye #ema skye #miles edgeworth #the skye sisters' relationship with one dramatic depressed prosecutor is something that can be so personal...#ive literally never thought this much about lana or ema ever. they never occupy my thoughts but somehow.#everyone else: man edgeworth's vanishing must have had a real impact on franziska and phoenix. me: what about these 2 side characters who #technically only appeared once in the whole trilogy. in a dlc. what about them.#it's actually so interesting how much lana is set up to be important to edgeworth. phoenix even says she reminds him of mia and when i #first read that i was like ??? bc of the scarf? there's more to mia than a scard phoenix. but then you pay attention to how she interacts #with edgeworth and it's like oh. i see it now. and then she disappears forever.#mind you i dont think she or ema were like. destroyed by the news of edgeworth's supposed passing. not in the way phoenix was anyway.#for better or worse both lana and ema are shown to have a tight hold over themselves emotionally speaking. lana keeps a lid on them for #years and ema is told she might have killed neil by accident and is functional after a brief faint and recess. like those women are strong.#but i do think it would have had a deep impact regardless of how well they were able to cope. like i've said i dont see how it wouldnt.#anyway this concludes my rfta moment. time to go back to being unable to say a thing about susato-san even though she occupies my every #waking moment. if you read all this ily <3 #it's also past midnight so if this is all a bit everywhere im sorry

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