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phonydiaries · 7 months

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In the Heat of Battle - P x Reader

Requested by @amethyst-huntress

Notes: The premise of this fic was requested by Amethyst-Huntress and I started absolutely foaming at the mouth at the idea, so huge thank-you’s are in order for that nugget of inspiration. Unfortunately, same as last time, I have still barely progressed through the game thanks to my lack of patience and skill, so please forgive that both of my fics take place extremely early in playthrough. Other than that, thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy!

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Where is that damn puppet? You think to yourself, teeth gritted at the deadly inconvenience standing in front of you.

In the dark and the rain and the constant buzzing noise of Krat, you admit it's easy to get turned around. Even traveling with a companion -in your case, with Gepetto’s puppet- it’s easy to lose track of which gloomy alleys you’d already traversed. Even standing back to back, nudging each other with your elbows, even checking in every so often,“You still with me?” It was easy to get lost. But now, standing face to face with a candelabra wielding automaton and a rabid mechanical dog, you’re not feeling very generous towards your puppet companion. He’s probably searching for you in a frenzy at this very moment.

Ha.

Fat load of good it does you.

The automaton winds up and its eyes flash red across your face. Target locked. The candelabra comes crashing towards your head, but it's met instantly with the clanging cold steel of your sword. The automaton stumbles backwards. Its head cocks unnaturally to the side and you hear something whir, as if in frustration, beneath its face. It winds up again to strike you, but you’re quick and clever; you land a blow in the dead center of the loathsome thing's torso. A sick crunch of metal echoes as you draw the sword out of the brand new gaping cavity in its chest. The automaton sinks to its knees. You look down your nose at it, satisfied at your own skill. The enemy looks to be shutting down, but in a quick, almost desperate motion, its hand shoots towards your foot, grasping wildly. It's cold fingers close around your ankle, but you quickly stamp it out with your free foot. The automaton lets out a weak mechanical wheeze as its hand is crushed beneath your boot. For good measure, you take the hilt of your sword in both hands and slam the base through the miserable things forehead. It crackles, then collapses finally on the ground. You smile darkly at its now lifeless shell. Perhaps a little early.

A sharp bark cuts through the air and your head snaps to attention. Shit. You forgot about the damn dog. Before you have the chance to raise your sword again, the dog lunges at you. Razor sharp teeth clang dissonantly together and the sound ripples against the glistening walls of the alley. In an instant, you’re knocked to the wet, muddy ground; the iron paws of the mutt are already upon your chest. The mongrel snarls mere centimeters from your face, black oily fluid spilling from its mouth as if salivating. You groan and struggle beneath its weight but regain your grip on your sword just in time to catch its rabid jaw. The dog bites down on your blade, thrashing its head to either side. You strain against its unnatural strength, attempting to pull your weapon free. In one fell swoop you’ll rip it free and decapitate this fucking thing. Your fingers curl tighter around your hilt, you ready a strike, suck in one sharp breath and then-

You freeze.

A second blade appears, glinting in the gaslight, right between your eyes. Thick black fluid goes splattering across your face. The mutt goes limp, its full weight crushing your lower torso. A gasp is pushed from your lungs and you roll to the side, quickly shoving the robotic corpse away from your body. You kneel, palms pushing into the slick ground. Your heart is thundering beneath your shirt as you swallow frigid air hard and fast. When you finally catch a breath, you turn your head towards the owner of the blade; Pinocchio, your companion. He wipes the rapier against his trousers, cleaning the sludge from its razor sharp surface. You huff, blowing matted wet bangs out of your face.

“I had that under control.” You say sharply. P cocks an eyebrow at you, unconvinced. You feel your face burn in annoyance. “I did!” You insist, “Had you given me just one more minute I would’ve been fine. And probably less covered in this.” You jab your weapon in his direction, flecking dark oil across his shirt. He shoots you a slightly apologetic smile.

He knows you can handle yourself, he does. He just worries. You can’t blame him; you do the same thing. You’ve gotten quite close on these arduous journeys, saving each other's skins more times than either of you can count. As you wipe the sludge from your face, P extends his hand to you and begrudgingly you take it. Swiftly, he helps you to your feet. His eyes flicker up and down your face, narrowing on your cheek. He licks the thumb of his legion hand and streaks it across your cheek, lifting the remnants of black. You scrunch your nose up at him.

“Eugh- enough-” You whine, swatting the hand away. “Where did you run off to anyways?”

Pinocchio’s legion arm gestures behind his head. You squint through the darkness at the distant yellow lights of Hotel Krat up ahead. You grimace. It’s further still than you thought. “I don’t suppose you found some kind of underground shortcut?” P shakes his head apologetically. You both sigh, knowing you’ve got plenty of dangers yet to face before you’re given any time to rest. These days spent traveling have taken their toll on your bodies, but you’re at least grateful to have a friend in the gloom of Cerasani Alley. Your sword slides neatly into your belt as you walk ahead of Pinocchio. “Back to it then.”

As the two of you push forward, you notice a concerted effort on your companions' part to stick close to your side. At any strange noise or eerie shadow, P reaches for your hand. You squeeze back in reassurance that all is well. A bit unnecessary? Sure. But you don’t fight it. It’s much preferred to losing the poor boy again.

Drawing closer to your destination with only a few minor scuffles to slow you down, you reach a dilapidated fairgrounds. Sickly yellow light bulbs buzz overhead and cast an ominous glow across the entire scene. A ghostly music box melody plinks and permeates the air. You look to P quizzically.

“You’re sure this is the right way?”

P takes in his surroundings and gives you a curt nod. You grimace in reply. This decrepit place gives you the creeps.

Together you silently weave through wooden cutouts of circus performers, checking carefully for hidden enemies. It's suspiciously quiet, save for the phantasmal carnival music that grows louder as you approach an iron gate. Another barrier. Excellent.

“P?” You step aside and gesture to the locked gate. Pinocchio smiles slyly at you, boyishly pleased that there’s still a few things you can’t do without him. You want to roll your eyes, but you watch reluctantly impressed, as deep violet energy crackles around his fist. In one swift swing, he punches through the gate and leaves a smoking crater where the lock once sat. He shoots you a sharp smile, satisfied with himself.

And then you feel something. A great mechanical thud rippling beneath your feet. Your heads snap in unison towards the source and your eyes go wide at the sight of the staggering monster in front of you. At least 3 times your size looms the Parade Master, constructed of decaying parts and craquelured paint. Its massive fist alone is as wide as your body, and sways heavily at its side.

You unsheathe your blade, and its weight sinks your shoulders. It's not ideal for speed you admit, but the vindication after landing those obliterating killing blows to your enemies is unbeatable. Keeping your eyes locked on target, you whistle to catch Pinocchio’s attention. You started doing this early on. Whistles were a good line of nonverbal communication when you couldn’t afford a glance in each other's direction.

“Flank him?” You suggest. Pinocchio whistles quick and sharp in agreement. Your fingers tighten around the great sword and your chest thrums with anticipation. You jut your chin in the direction of your common enemy. “After you.”

Without looking, you know his brows are furrowed together in deep focus. You can perfectly visualize the way he lures the puppet away, his steps meticulously timed and graceful. As you wind your way behind the thing, you hear the clang of P’s rapier against tarnished metal. Your enemy rears its arm back, and you follow suit striking its vulnerable back with a satisfying SHUK! You yank the blade out of its now damaged shell and catch the briefest glance at your companion and oh. Oh. The way he looks at you.

With fascination?

Admiration?

It’s something greater, deeper than that. Your heart skips. But you shake yourself out of distraction, startled at the sound of your own voice calling out. Your lips move before your mind has time to catch up.

“MOVE!”

Exactly as you shout it, P dodges a strike from the Parade Master. The brute’s fist lands in the brick pavement, blowing a hole through it instantaneously. You gulp at the thought of your companion lying there instead, crushed. Your skin goes cold.

No. Never.

Knowing neither of you can afford another lapse in attention, you suck in one long loud whistle between your teeth. The Parade Master whips itself around to face you. Two huge lamp-like eyes glow sickly in your direction. This was intentional. You can distract for now and give your ally a moment to catch his breath. You ready both hands on your weapon and take a step back. The monster lurches forward, its steps accompanied by a horrid clanking sound.

“Get over here you fucking rust bucket…” You mutter grimly under your breath as the space between you and the looming threat of death shrinks. You breathe deeply and steel yourself, heels digging into stone. You watch carefully as the puppet rushes towards you, arms swinging wildly. Just when the behemoth is about to crush you beneath its huge frame, you duck between its legs and emerge from behind. There’s just enough time to land a solid blow. P’s rapier crosses with your greatsword, both your weapons plunging into the deteriorated creatures back.

“This one’s mine, P.” You snap, pulling your blade from its fresh wound.

“Mine.” P parrots with a smirk, retrieving his rapier as well. Being a man of so few words, you can't help feeling amused even given the circumstances. This is good. The beast is growing weaker. If you can both keep level heads this will all be over soon, you think to yourself.

At least until your enemy decapitates itself.

Your jaw drops as the Parade Master rips its own head from its massive shoulders. It wields its shiny new weapon like an enormous mace and swings it your way. It makes contact with the ground, and the impact alone is enough to shake your balance. You dive to the side, narrowly avoiding collision with the wall. You struggle to recalibrate, to size up the situation while keeping yourself out of the range of attack. You hear P whistle pointedly across the arena, waiting on your instruction. Your mind races for a plan and comes up blank.

“Hold on!” You shout, “Just- Just hold on, I’ll think of something.” You’ll have to if you want to leave this place in one piece. There’s nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. All you can think to do is attack. And you do; your blade leaves white hot gash marks on the enemy, but it hardly seems to be enough against such a terrible and towering foe. You’ve angered it now, and it’s in a total frenzy. The Parade Master swings its massive head in your direction again and you raise your sword to block it. Half a second too late.

As your weapons collide, the impact sends you to the ground. You gasp at the sharp pain that shoots through your skull. There’s a ringing in your ears and a soft dark edge to your vision. You struggle against unconsciousness and fight to keep yourself upright. Things are moving slow; trails of light obscure the events unfolding in front of you.

You comprehend something catching the Parade Masters' attention, you watch the goliath wind up, you hear something cry out, and then hear nothing at all. A sick feeling churns in the pit of your stomach and bile rises in your throat. Something’s wrong. You search the scene frantically for your ally. Your line of sight flickers from the Parade Masters head to the ground slick with rain. Your throat tightens. With his face turned to the ground, his eyes fighting to stay open, lies Pinocchio. His rapier skitters across the stone, coming to a sudden halt beneath the foot of the Parade Master.

Something flashes through you, anger, grief, adrenaline; whatever it is, it propels you forward. Your weapon is suddenly weightless as you skid between the monstrous puppet and your companion. The head of the Parade Master collides with your sword and the sound echoes through the arena with an arresting ring. You breathe hard in disbelief of your own courage. Your teeth are bared and your furrowed brow is sticky with sweat.

“Don’t. Touch him.” You command, and you swear even your mindless enemy hears it. A deep guttural sound is forced from the very bottom of your lungs as you thrust your weapon through the center of the automaton's body. It doesn’t die, but you hear something inside it break, and the creature slows significantly as if becoming too heavy for its own armature.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. P looks like absolute hell, covered in grime, barely staggering to his feet. Your chest tightens at his condition, but he’s alive.

Alive. It’s enough.

The enemy screams in frustration, rippling orange flames and black smoke billow from the place its head once sat. You stare at the hilt of your great sword, still lodged in its heart.

“P, your sword-” You start, but your ally is already on it, your strategic minds miraculously attuned. He sends the rapier sailing -now free of the parade masters foot- towards your open hand. It whips past your head and slides perfectly into your grasp. With what's left of the enemy in your sights, you take a running start.

Time seems to slow; the taste of victory teases you. Your head is about to collide with the hulking hunk of metal just as you raise your boot and dig its heel into the hilt of your great sword. Its placement serves as a stepping stone, and you scale the furious beast. You clamber up its torso towards its shoulders and feel heat radiating from the inside. It burns your hands, which grip the edge of the cavernous socket of its missing head. The monster thrashes beneath you like a wild bull, desperate to throw you off. You tighten your grip, the white hot metal searing your palm. You force yourself to ignore the pain as you raise the rapier and plunge one final devastating blow into the blazing cavity. You feel the rapier obliterate whatever mechanism kept the Parade Master alive, and it crumbles finally beneath you.

Atop the shoulders of your freshly slaughtered enemy, you fall forward with a deafening CRASH. Your body tumbles to the ground. Your grip on the rapier goes slack. Exhaustion ripples through you, and you surrender to its sweet embrace.

You hadn’t even realized you’d lost consciousness until your eyes flutter open, met by the stunning blue gaze of your companion mere inches from your face. For a moment you forget yourself, the urge to sink into his arms is so tempting. But your pride wins out and you scramble into an upright position, barely awake. Pinocchio lets out a sigh of relief and you see his shoulders relax. Had he been just as terrified as you were at the prospect of losing him? Did that same dread sit in the pit of his stomach?

Your head swims with what-ifs, but you have no energy to find their answers. With strength that you’re shocked to still possess, you throw your arms around the puppet. Your fingers clutch the wet fabric of his shirt as if he might disappear the moment you let go. His body tenses at first, then melts under your touch. You feel his head settle between your neck and shoulder, solid and secure. Silently breathing in the smell of him feels like waves of relief crashing over your head.

You wish the journey could end here in the peace and quiet of this embrace, but you feel him begin to pull away and your heart sinks. Face to face with you, his eyes search for signs of damage, for something to mend. His hands find yours and you hiss involuntarily. His eyebrows knit together in concern. You try not to grimace.

“It’s nothing.” you promise, “Burned my hand, that's all.”

P looks down at your hand and cradles it gently in his own. With painstaking care, he lifts it to his mouth and places a feather-light kiss in your palm, then on each of your scraped and bleeding knuckles. He looks up at you through those thick raven-wing lashes and you notice a trace of your blood left on his lips. The sight makes your head swim and it takes the entirety of your willpower not to catch his mouth with yours. Your posture stiffens as you try to regain your composure.

“Well it’s not far now, is it?” You ask, deflecting back to the mission at hand. “There will be plenty of time to patch each other up at the hotel. Right?” You offer, already stupidly aching for the return of Pinocchio’s delicate touch. He blinks a few times, as if he were struggling to focus himself. But he nods enthusiastically. You feel a smile creep across your lips.

As you leave the destroyed fairgrounds behind, you let your good hand slip into that of your companion. The two of you venture forth, certain to never lose track of the other again.

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If you read this and enjoy it please let me know! Seeing your positive comments and tags absolutely warms my heart and motivates me to keep writing. Thank you so much to those of you who took the time to leave me some kind words on my last fic <3

#this was so fucking fun to write #lies of p #pinocchio #pinocchio x reader #hurt/comfort #lop #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p fanfic #pinocchio x you #lies of p x reader #my writing

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burnednotburied · 7 days

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Chapter Three

AO3 Link | Chapter 2 Link

Pairing: Abby Anderson x fem!reader

Fic Synopsis: Abby goes looking for Owen and ends up on the wrong end of your knife.

Tags/CWs: angst; slowburn; enemies to friends to lovers; talks of purity culture/ideals and “sin”; internalized homophobia and some comp-het feelings (they’re both so gay but so dumb about it); animosity between WLF and Seraphites; blood/gore; descriptions of being hanged; religious/cult-like ideas

Note: This is not at all how I thought this chapter would start. Alas, I am riddled with religious trauma, and Taylor Swift just released the song “Guilty as Sin?” I mean… “My boredom’s bone-deep This cage was once just fine Am I allowed to cry? I dream of cracking locks, Throwing my life to the WOLVES” Are you kidding me? It’s perfect. So this started out differently than I planned. But what was I to do? I am just a girl.

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There were many topics on which you had been educated in-depth but were never supposed to experience first-hand.

Sex was one of those topics.

You knew the mechanics of it. The anatomy that was involved. Its purposes and benefits. The dangers of it.

You had been told, vehemently, that it was something that should never be done outside of the safe and proper confines of marriage.

Which meant you could never do it because you could never marry.

The Prophet had to remain pure.

Set apart.

Free from romantic, familial, worldly ties.

You were taught to suppress any desire to do otherwise. A task that you had been mostly successful at upholding.

But there were times when your eyes lingered where they shouldn’t and your own thoughts made you shiver and blush.

It was the sin of lust.

The other major vices were usually easily circumvented. You could be disciplined and selfless, just and kind, modest and brave.

You always did what you were told, and you didn’t ask questions.

You told yourself that you weren’t weak; you just knew your place. You knew what was expected of you, and no other options had ever been made available.

So, like thrown clay, you had allowed yourself to be molded into the person you were today, each piece of you carefully and intentionally shaped by the hands of others.

The Elders created the perfect Seraphite specimen. Quietly devout. Enigmatic. Indelible. Untouchable. Obedient.

A mouthpiece disguised as a leader.

A Prophet.

They made you.

You were not a naturally occurring thing.

Sometimes you didn’t even feel human.

Lust was one sin you knew could be concealed, buried far below your surface, unseen by critical eyes.

It was a small act of rebellion. A hidden glimmer of defiance. Although, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

And it was made especially loathsome due to the regrettable fact that it only ever happened to you when you were looking at or thinking of a woman…

Now the Wolf stood in front of you, hammer held tightly in her right hand.

Demons were quickly descending upon you, and you had just witnessed (and neglected to intervene into) the death of three of your own people. The only person you helped was the Wolf, your enemy, who you were meant to kill.

You could guess what the Elders would say if they were here now. How disappointed they would look as they pointed out your many failings.

For once, you didn’t care.

Strangely, despite everything, you felt like a bird whose cage door was just thrown wide open.

Or a well-trained dog that had been mistakenly let off leash.

You could breathe. Unrestricted.

Your eyes remained glued to the Wolf.

Her back was to you, her soaked clothes clinging to her skin. Her shoulders rose with each of her deep, deliberate breaths.

Time seemed to slow as your eyes traced down the length of her arms, taking in her strong form…

See, you knew the sin of lust was bad, if only because it made you stupid.

Or distracted, at the very least.

Demons were coming, and you had just been moments away from gutting this girl.

You definitely couldn’t trust her.

But you didn’t have to trust her to look at her.

A series of snapping twigs and high-pitched shrieks from the surrounding forest instantly brought your attention back to the approaching threat.

Demons were another one of those things that they taught you about but never thought you’d actually encounter.

When you arrived on the mainland that morning, you had been led to the network of Seraphite-built bridges, above the city, concealed in the clouds.

Nearly your entire day had been spent in the sky.

If there were any Demons below, you didn’t see them.

Honestly, you hoped you’d never have to come across the cursed creatures.

The sounds they made were animalistic, but somehow still eerily human. Like a voice that was either enraged or overwhelmed with pain.

You had been told that they were unsavable. Completely consumed by the disease and irrevocably punished for their sins. No longer even human.

As a child, you heard stories of the first Prophet valiantly fighting off hordes in defense of her early followers.

In training, they taught you how to fight both Demons and human adversaries alike. Although the former was always theoretical.

You were shown sketches, detailing the different stages of it.

Foolishly, you thought you were ready.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what came running out from the cover of the trees.

It moved faster than you would’ve thought possible, too quickly for you to take it all in, but the glimpses you captured were grotesque.

It went straight for the Wolf, swinging its arms wildly. She effortlessly dodged its attack before striking with the hammer. Hard. It was dead in just three blows.

Two more approached from behind you, closest to Lev, and it was past time for you to be useful.

Lev was a skilled archer, but he was still a kid. And Yara, also a kid, only had use of one of her arms.

Both of the Demons were focused on Lev. He fired an arrow, hitting one of them in the chest, but it didn’t take it down.

Its back was to you.

You couldn’t let yourself freeze again.

You closed the distance between you and the beast, lifting your dagger with both hands and bringing it back down swiftly, piercing deeply through its skull.

It let out one last pained shriek as it fell.

The Wolf had taken out the other Demon before Lev had to loose another arrow.

But there were two more where those came from. One swung at the Wolf, and the other came for you.

You were able to dodge, narrowly missing the impact of its savage attack. Stepping back, you continued to evade its blows.

You swung at it, but the thing was fast. Your blade cut into its shoulder instead of its head. Ripping your weapon out, you tried again. This time, you hit your target.

That was two for you.

“Prophet, look out!” Yara shouted. Before you could discern which direction the threat was coming from, you were brutally thrown to the ground, the wind knocked out of you entirely.

Death wore the grisly face of the Demon standing above you.

You had dropped your dagger, leaving you completely defenseless.

Lev’s arrows pierced its throat twice.

It kept coming.

You blinked and it was on the ground. The Wolf knelt over it, hammer crashing over its skull repeatedly, past when the thing was decidedly dead, until the hammer actually broke in her hand.

You just blinked again.

She saved you.

Why did she save you?

You scrambled to your feet, your breaths coming too quickly.

You tried not to panic.

You had only almost died.

You were fine.

The Wolf dropped the splintered remnants of the hammer and stood, shaking out her hand. You stared as she walked over to where your dagger lay on the ground and bent to pick it up.

She looked at you for—as far as you could tell—the first time since you’d cut her down from the rope.

She walked over, holding your gaze.

You realized that she could kill you now. That that was likely why she had saved you.

So she could end you herself.

Because you were the Prophet, and a Seraphite. Or because you had nearly killed her before.

She could even do it with your own weapon. The one that had been meant for her.

You imagined that would be satisfying for a brutish Wolf.

As she approached, you noticed that she towered over you, making you doubly aware of the fact that this was not a fight you would win if it came down to it. Especially when you were unarmed.

She stopped when she stood only a couple feet in front of you, turning the dagger over in her hand and simply offering it to you, handle-first.

Dumbly, you slowly reached out and took it.

Her hand fell back to her side.

There was a hint of a smug little smile on her face, like she knew what you had been thinking.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” she said, voice low. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to you, and you resented the way it made your cheeks warm.

Before you could come up with a competent response, Yara interrupted.

“Prophet, Wolf! Come on. We have to move!” She held a lit torch in her uninjured hand. Lev stood at her side, ready to run.

“Where are you going?” the Wolf asked, unsure if she would be following. You were already moving to join Yara and Lev.

“Out of these woods. We’ve gotta run! Now! The coast is this way.”

They took off into the trees with you close behind. The sound of footsteps falling behind you informed you of the Wolf’s apparent decision to tag along, at least for the time being.

You could also hear more Demons, closing in on either side, chasing the torch’s light. Which meant they were after Yara.

You ran faster, trying to close the distance between you just in case.

As she passed an abandoned vehicle, one of the Demons jumped out, tackling her to the ground.

Lev shot an arrow through its head as you ran to her, pushing the dead Demon off and helping her back to her feet.

The horrifying chorus of even more of them, just beyond your vision, made you startle with each screech.

“They’re all around us!” Yara cried, moving closer to her brother.

The Wolf, weaponless after breaking the hammer, quickly looked around, finding a glass bottle. She grabbed it and threw it at the next creature that emerged from the forest.

The Demon slowed, momentarily stunned, and the Wolf wasted no time knocking it over and bringing her foot down on its skull hard and fast.

Just one stomp and it was dead.

You flushed again, transfixed.

Stupid.

You should not find that attractive.

But she was undeniably incredible.

You shook your head in an attempt to refocus as you turned to watch Lev take down another with a couple well-aimed shots.

A shriek behind you revealed the presence of yet another. You turned to meet it, killing the thing easily enough.

It seemed your training in combat had been sufficient after all, at least where Demons were concerned.

“That was the last of them,” Yara said.

“You guys okay?” the Wolf asked, like she might actually care.

“Yeah,” Lev breathed out, bow and arrow still at the ready.

“We have to keep moving before more come,” Yara insisted, taking up the lead again as she pressed forward.

You all ran after her.

“Every direction looks the same,” said the Wolf. You were inclined to agree. “You sure you know where you’re going?”

“It has to be this way,” Yara said, quietly determined.

“What the hell am I doing?” the Wolf muttered to herself under her breath.

The four of you picked up your speed as the Demons grew closer.

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Abby seriously had no idea what the hell she was doing.

She was running through the woods, fighting off Infected with three Scars.

And one of them was the Prophet.

Who had been fully intending to disembowel her not too long ago…

Something had to be wrong with her. Maybe it was brain damage from nearly suffocating.

Because this wasn’t like her.

A couple hours ago, Abby was killing Scars. Happily.

Well maybe that wasn’t the best word for it. It didn’t make her happy. She just didn’t feel bad about it.

And now, she was prancing through the forest and going out of her way to protect Scars?

The kids were one thing. They seemed to be just as in danger with other Scars as they were with the Infected.

What had that one woman called them? Apostates?

Abby had done enough reading to know what the word meant. She guessed they must have broken some stupid, insane rule and run off.

Or been kicked out.

Either way, from what Abby had gathered, they had gone rogue and were being hunted by their own people.

Which meant they weren’t necessarily her enemy.

But the other girl. The Prophet…

Abby didn’t know what was going on with you.

Were you going rogue too, or were your friends just dead and you needed help getting past the Infected and out of the woods?

And yeah, you had been about to kill her before. But you’d stopped as soon as there was a distraction. Took the out the second it was offered.

And then you had been the one to cut her down.

So maybe you didn’t want to kill her.

That counted for something, right?

Abby didn’t let herself think too much about how pretty you were.

How stunning your eyes looked when they met hers.

How your fingers felt, lightly grazing her bare skin for just a second, then leaving all too soon.

And how you had definitely blushed when she spoke to you.

See? She totally wasn’t thinking about any of that at all.

And she was probably delusional.

And way too distracted, spending any amount of time or energy thinking about such crazy shit while you were all actively running for your lives.

Abby was bringing up the rear of the group, and she knew a horde of Stalkers was not far behind her.

She really hoped these Scars knew where they were going.

“It’s just up here!” the girl, Yara, shouted from up ahead, leading the way to a wall of hanging vines.

The boy, Lev, pulled the vines aside, revealing an opening behind. Yara carefully but quickly maneuvered through. You waited until both she and Lev were on the other side before looking up at Abby expectantly.

There wasn’t time to argue, so Abby went next. You followed closely behind, then let the vines fall back into place, hiding your path from the Infected that pursued.

On the other side, Abby was met with the sight of several dead bodies, clearly recently slaughtered.

She couldn’t tell from this distance what had killed them. Or if they were Scar or WLF.

“Those are fresh. There another way around?” she asked, maneuvering around the corpses.

Lev spoke up. “If there were, would we be going this way?”

Okay. Fair point.

Yara pointed to a chain link fence with the torch. “Come on, Lev. Get it open.”

The kid tried to bend the steel wires up to create an opening. It didn’t budge, despite his efforts.

“Move,” Abby said. He did.

She strained as the piece of fencing gave way beneath her hands.

“Get in there, Prophet,” she said, teeth clenched.

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You quickly slid through the opening and popped up on the other side.

Finally, you were free of the suffocating forest.

The clearing was illuminated with light of the full moon.

You wandered on ahead as Lev, Yara, and the Wolf came through the fence behind you.

“Prophet?” A new voice spoke out as you turned the corner. The reverence in the person’s tone alone told you that you were dealing with a Seraphite.

You turned toward the voice to see a woman you recognized but whose name you couldn’t recall. She was large and stood tall, the side of her face bloody and a pickaxe in her grip.

She had been part of a patrolling squad in the area. You’d seen her briefly earlier in the day, with Emily, after the Wolf had been captured.

The woman saw that you were, in fact, who she thought you were, and she bowed her head out of respect.

“Are you alright, Prophet? What are you doing out here? Where is Emily?”

You were at a loss for words.

Her voice was calm and concerned now, but you knew that she would kill Lev, Yara, and the Wolf if given the chance.

“I—”

Your two friends entered the clearing behind you, drawing her eyes toward them.

“Apostates,” she hissed, and instantly her demeanor changed.

She rushed past you, ruthlessly throwing Yara to the ground and lifting Lev up by his neck.

You moved without thinking, your dagger still tightly clutched in your fingers. Again, you raised your arms above your head, just as you had done when fighting the Demons. Using all of your strength, you brought the blade down above her head, piercing her skull. The weapon was long enough that it exited through her chin.

Her body slackened and slumped to the ground. Dead.

You stared down at her, feeling the weight of what you had just done.

This wasn’t a Demon. It wasn’t an animal.

She was a living person.

And a Seraphite. One of your own people.

You were supposed to be her Prophet. Her leader. Her new hope.

She hadn’t been watching her back because she never imagined that you could betray your people like that. That you would pose a threat to her.

You continued to stare, holding your breath. You couldn’t look away.

You didn’t deserve to look away.

You felt a sob rising in your throat. Your eyes began to water.

No. You would not cry.

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Abby was the last to enter the clearing.

By then, the Scar was already holding Lev in the air, and you were already approaching from behind, lifting your dagger.

Abby watched as you killed her.

Woah.

You were good with that knife, she’d give you that.

Yara and Lev got back to their feet and watched as you stared down at the dead Scar, unmoving. Like you were frozen.

You weren’t even breathing, and you looked like you might cry.

Abby had been wondering how many WLF soldiers you killed today before you got to her. If the three she’d seen hanging when she first came to were yours.

Now, she was sure they weren’t.

Because based on your reaction, that had to be your first time.

She wasn’t usually one to be especially sensitive to the emotions of others, but when she heard you sniffle, finally taking in a ragged breath, she couldn’t help but move towards you.

Abby thought of her own first kill. How easy it was to do in the heat of the moment, but how torn up she’d been in the aftermath.

She understood that it was necessary, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell.

She fought the urge to put a hand on your shoulder, or even rub your back soothingly. Reminded herself of who you were and who she was and all the reasons why she shouldn’t even be here right now.

Instead, she bent to retrieve your dagger from the body. She tried to hand it back to you, but you were still stuck, staring down.

“Hey. You did a good job.” She took your hand in hers, placing the handle into your palm and closing your fingers around it. She didn’t let go, allowing her hands to fully encompass yours.

Abby waited until you met her eyes. “You saved them,” she said, nodding towards Lev and Yara, who were both silently watching this unfold. “You did what you had to do.”

You drew your eyebrows together at that, like you wanted to argue. But you seemed to change your mind, ultimately just nodding your head lightly.

She let her hands drop and glanced back down at the slumped body again, her eyes catching on something.

“Wait. Is that my backpack?” Abby asked, looking more closely.

Beside her, you lifted your shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

“Probably. Emily gave it to her earlier,” you said numbly.

Abby didn’t need to ask who Emily was. She could guess.

She reclaimed her belongings while you pulled yourself together.

“Are you two alright?” you asked the siblings.

“Yes, Prophet,” Lev answered, watching you closely. Abby noticed that you seemed to bristle ever so slightly at his use of your title. You didn’t say anything though.

She held her rifle in her hands again, happy to have her stuff back.

Especially the guns.

Wordlessly, the Scar kids led the way into the nearest building.

Out of habit, Abby began gathering supplies as you went along, taking ammo and medical supplies and anything else that seemed useful.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Yara, breaking the long stretch of silence.

“I have it under control,” the girl insisted defensively.

“Okay…” Abby took a box of ammo from a cabinet. “Grab any supplies you find.”

“We can’t touch this stuff. It’s Old World,” Lev said, like that should’ve been obvious.

“Are you fu---? You need supplies. We’re not out of the woods yet.” She opened and then shut a drawer. “Pun fucking intended.”

“What’s a pun?” Lev asked from another room.

Abby didn’t have the energy to answer that question.

Instead she said, “I’ve never seen Scars go after Scars like that before.”

“Seraphites,” you and Lev corrected in unison as you explored different rooms of the building.

Again, she ignored. “So what the hell did you do?”

“I shaved my head,” Lev answered simply.

Abby scoffed. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

The group passed through building after dilapidated building, heading towards the coast. At least in theory.

“We’re almost there,” Yara said. “Just a little farther.”

She led the way down a steep drop-off into another run-down building. One where you wouldn’t be able to get back out the same way you went in.

“Now what?” Abby threw out, tired and frustrated.

“I’m quite confident it’s this way.”

“Quite confident?” Abby repeated incredulously.

“You don’t have to follow us,” Lev pointed out.

“You want me to leave you three out here alone?” Abby shot back.

Your response was an immediate and insistent, almost panicked, “No!”

Everyone else turned to you, surprised.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Lev offered.

Abby found the front doors, but they were held firmly closed by a metal gate on the outside.

Above the door was a large opening, too high for Abby to pull herself out of, but not too high for someone to climb through with a boost.

“If you get us through there, we’ll open the gate,” Lev said.

Abby remembered again that these were Scars she was dealing with. And like hell was she going to boost you all up to safety just so you could leave her stranded here.

“Get them out,” you said, as if you could read her mind. “I’ll stay with you.”

Lev started to protest but stopped after one shake of your head.

Abby nodded. “Okay. Come on.”

He gave you one last look before walking over to her, stepping into her open hands and pulling himself through the opening.

“Your turn.” Abby looked at Yara. “Watch that arm.” She carefully helped the injured girl maneuver up and out.

The all too familiar shriek of Infected sounded off behind you, coming from deeper in the building.

On the other side of the doors, Lev pushed at the gate. It wouldn’t budge.

“The gate’s stuck!”

“Fuck! Hurry up!” Abby looked back and forth between the door and the direction the Infected were coming from.

“We’ll look for another way!” Yara said, and the two of them disappeared from view.

Abby tried to stay calm and prepared herself for the inevitable fight.

“They’re not going to leave me,” you said, drawing her attention. You held your knife at the ready, rolling your shoulders back.

She didn’t respond, not sure if she believed you.

“They won’t,” you reiterated.

“I hope you’re right, Prophet.” She offered one of the weapons from her stash. “You ever shot a gun before?”

You shook your head but accepted the firearm anyway.

“Come here. I’ll show you.”

What Abby hoped would only be a few Infected turned out to be an entire horde. Runners, Stalkers, Clickers, and even a couple Shamblers.

You were fighting them off like a champ.

Seriously. She was impressed.

You’d kept the gun, watched her rushed demonstration on how to operate it, but ultimately chose to primarily stick with the dagger.

Both of you had been fighting for several minutes as you moved through the building. No sign of the other two Scars. Abby had pretty much resigned herself to needing to find her own way out.

She cleared the room she was in, lowering her weapon to take a breather.

You were in the next room, and it sounded like you had cleared that one out too.

The only warning Abby had before she felt the blow was you urgently shouting, “Wolf!”

A Stalker that she failed to notice had her pinned to the ground, knocking her rifle from her grip in the process.

It reared its head back as Abby struggled, fighting to get it off her.

A gunshot rang out, and the Infected slumped, lifeless.

She shoved it off her and sat up to see you standing there, borrowed gun still aimed and ready.

“Good girl!” Abby exclaimed, beaming up at you from where she sat on the floor.

Wait.

What the fuck?

She meant to say “good job”…

Actually, she hadn’t meant to say anything.

You lowered the weapon. Based on the look on your face, you were just as taken aback by her use of those words as Abby was. Although, she managed to keep it from showing on her face. Mostly.

She stood quickly and fumbled through a recovery. “Good shot. That was—I mean—It was a good… A good shot. Good job.”

You smiled softly at Abby’s obvious display of nerves, walking over to where her rifle had fallen when she was attacked.

You picked it up and returned it to her.

“Try not to drop that again, yeah?” you said, mimicking the teasing tone Abby had used when she said those same words to you earlier that night.

She made a face. Something that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement.

“Prophet! Over here!” came Lev’s quiet voice from the next room.

You shot Abby an I told you so look before the two of you ran after the sound.

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When Yara collapsed, the Wolf picked her up and carried her.

You listened as she quietly comforted your dear friend, encouraging her to keep breathing and promising to find somewhere to rest soon.

Your heart felt soft for her in that moment.

Or maybe you were just exhausted.

Lev led the group with you in the back, gun drawn and alert to the best of your current abilities.

You entered a clearing, full of enormous metal boxes and small, raised buildings. All things from the Old World that you had never seen before and didn’t have words for.

The Wolf instructed Lev to start checking the doors of all the small buildings. It took a few tries before he found one that was open.

The inside was in noticeably better shape than any other structure you’d seen on the mainland, with a few simple, fully intact pieces of furniture.

You watched as the Wolf moved through the first small room and into the second, carefully setting Yara down on the couch. She went over to the windows, checking again to make sure the four of you hadn’t been followed.

When Yara began to slowly remove her overshirt, you were quick to help, being especially careful with her injured arm.

It was swollen and bright red from her elbow down to her fingertips, visibly mangled. You had to bite back a gasp.

Lev stood on the other side of the room, a horribly worried expression on his face.

It wouldn’t be helpful for you to panic now.

“Hey,” you said to him, light and encouraging, drawing his gaze to you and away from his hurt older sister. “It just needs to be set. Okay?”

You turned your eyes to the Wolf who was still hovering by the window. “You know how to do that?”

The face she made confirmed what you already knew. Yara needed much more than just for the arm to be set.

Still, the Wolf walked over, instructing Lev to cut the discarded overshirt into strips and telling Yara to lean back.

You helped her, kneeling on the floor by the side of the couch where her head lay, ready to assist in any way you could.

“I’m gonna move it, okay?” said the Wolf.

“Okay.”

They were both speaking so softly.

“You ready?” she asked.

Yara nodded, reaching her uninjured hand out for one of yours. You held it, letting her squeeze as tightly as she needed to.

The crunching noise the arm made as it was set nearly made you sick.

Yara let out a series of pained noises, panting and grunting. You used your free hand to gently brush the loose strands of her hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears.

You whispered that the worst was over, and that she would be okay now.

You didn’t know if that was true, but you hoped it comforted her a little.

The Wolf broke a leg off a wooden chair, took the newly cut strips of fabric that Lev offered, and went to work bracing the newly-set arm, using the chair leg as a splint.

Yara watched the Wolf’s face.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The Wolf secured the last piece of cloth before she answered, meeting Yara’s gaze.

“Abby,” she said.

She stood, looking to Lev and then to you.

“I should go,” the Wolf—Abby—said.

You stood too, to walk her out.

Lev quickly filled in the space that you left, kneeling the same spot and taking Yara’s waiting hand in his.

Abby grabbed her backpack and followed you into the first room, toward the door.

You paused, turning to face her.

“Are you—” You wanted to ask where she was going. What she would do next. Really, if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to go at all.

But you didn’t have the right to ask for any of those things, so instead you went with, “Are you okay?”

You gestured to your neck, meaning to indicate the dark, noose-shaped bruises that circled her own throat.

It felt like so long ago that she’d been hanging in front of you, unfortunate to find herself on the wrong end of your dagger. But, realistically, only a couple of hours had gone by.

She cleared her throat, her own fingers instinctively ghosting over the marks.

“Oh umm… Yeah. It’ll be fine.” She waited a beat before adding, “Thanks for cutting me down.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, considering it was technically your fault she needed to be cut down in the first place.

You settled on a nod and a tight smile.

She turned to go, twisting the doorhandle and stepping back out into the rain.

Before you could close the door behind her, she looked back and said, “This area gets a lot of traffic. Whatever shape she’s in…” Abby leaned closer, hand on the door frame, “You need to get out of here by tomorrow.”

Again, you nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

She held your gaze for a moment longer before she turned and walked down the steps.

You shut and locked the door.

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As Abby walked away from the office trailer, she couldn’t help the images that came to mind.

She kept envisioning you and Lev and Yara, dead.

Hanged and gutted by the Scars.

Or shot by the WLF.

Or ripped to shreds by Infected.

She had real responsibilities. A friend to look for. A whole community counting on her.

She had a war to get back to.

But if she left now, would she always wonder about what happened to you?

The urge to stay near you—to protect you—was so overwhelming. She didn’t know where it was coming from or what she should do with it.

You were not safe, but she knew you were much safer with her.

Isaac had warned her that the first Scar Prophet had been able to make even the most dedicated soldiers turn on a dime. He said that with just a few carefully chosen words, she could make a person question where their loyalties lied.

It had seemed so ridiculous just that morning, but now you were doing the same thing to Abby.

You were in her head.

But this didn’t feel like manipulation.

She didn’t know what it was that drew her to you, but it felt real. Natural. And entirely unintentional.

Or maybe she was reading you all wrong, and you really were a master manipulator.

Abby needed to make a decision. Because she was currently standing still in the pouring rain with the trailer still in view.

She chose to trust her gut.

And her gut was telling her to turn around. To stay with you.

Owen would have to wait.

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Note: Thank you to anyone who’s read all three chapters of this! The fact that literally anyone has is absolutely bonkers to me. I’ve already learned so much about myself as a writer since I started writing fics a couple weeks ago. For example, this week I learned that I DO NOT enjoy writing fight scenes… Unfortunately it was thoroughly unavoidable for this chapter. Regardless, I really hope it was interesting to read, and I’m looking forward to fleshing out the relationship between Abby and my reader more and more!

#the wolf and the prophet #my writing #abby anderson #abby anderson x fem!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson fic

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outofthemouthsof · 1 month

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15-Day BL Challenge in 1 Night!

I'm more of a lurker than a poster but Tumblr's my fave place to wallow in BLness. My 2nd favorite place is the spreadsheet where I track the shows I've watched (172 completed in just over a year), so @negrowhat 's challenge was irresistible. I'm gonna cram my answers in one post. Here goes!

Fave OG Actor Pairing: Some of the ones I think of as OG are only like 4 years old, so this was tough. And the 18 shows that have gotten my top score aren't very old. But I went through those 18 and picked the oldest, and it was the 2018 Korean microfilm Some More. Because it's so short it's super rewatchable, but even if I wasn't able to watch the whole thing a half dozen times (which I have), I'd still have gone back & watched the sweet moments and sex scene about 25 times (which I have). So I guess my fave OG actor pairing is Park Chan Ung and Kim Joon Bum! How they got me so deeply invested in their love in mere minutes is beyond me, but they did!

Fave Rookie Actor Pairing: Does Japan do the CP thing that Thailand does? I don't think so, but one couple I wish had about a dozen more BL series together lined up are Kouhei Higuchi and Atsuki Mashiko of My Personal Weatherman! Their chemistry was visceral and they're too pretty to be believed.

Side Dish That Should've Been the Main Course: While I enjoyed the main pairing a lot, they were nothing compared to the crazy rollercoaster side plot (how'd it go from so funny to SO dark to so sexy to so sweet and wholesome like that??) of Vegas/Pete from KinnPorsche!

Fave Ship Dynamic: Obvs from answers 2 & 3 I am not against D/s ships at ALL. Also a sucker for tough-but-submissive-bodyguard with mafia-brat-prince. Honestly I like tons of different dynamics from innocent to toxic, but one that gives me major butterflies is a guy who thinks he's straight but when confronted with the idea of liking another guy, doesn't have a macho freakout or run away, just kind of straightforwardly & sincerely searches his feelings until he figures it out. And then takes care of his baby. Why's that so HOT and sweet? Some of my fave examples: Pete/Ae in Love By Chance, Le Jian/Amber from DNA Says Love You, and Ida/Aoki from My Love Mix-Up!

Biggest Flop: This is expectations vs. execution, right? There's loads of shows I've abandoned, some I've stuck with for no good reason, etc., that are way worse than what I consider my personal biggest let-down. I was so enamored of Perth from LBC that I assumed he could do no wrong, and the bully-to-lover, rich/poor pairings often do it for me. So I guess I just assumed Dangerous Romance would be amazing, and it was REALLY good for a couple episodes. It wasn't the worst thing I ever saw, but so much of it just ... felt ... flat. Very surprising.

Fave Line From Your Fave Series: Well I know my fave series--Cherry Magic Thailand was the most perfect, entrancing, heartwarming series EVER, OMG, it was staggeringly good and stuck the landing in a way few shows have managed. I can't really think of one standout line--the script was so on point & there were HUNDREDS of sweet tingly moments. There were some epic ones in ep11 tho: When Achi says "The voice inside your head is so loud" and Karan (the boldest he's ever been) replies "Don't worry; soon you won't be able to read my mind anymore." (But then clearly uses that power one more time to gain the sweetest nonverbal consent EVER.) Then, Karan: "Do you regret losing your power?" Achi: "I'd regret not loving you." (OMG how I squealed.)

Fave Villain: This was so tough. An over-the-top villain I loved to hate (and an actor I loved from his sweetie-pie green-flag role in SCOY) was obvs Heng Asavarid as Chalothon in The Sign. But an actor who was so excellent at being loathsome and malicious toward the main couple, with just enough of a redemption arc that I didn't totally despise the character by the end (but did hate most of the way through): Park Hae In as Eun Ji (Jae Won's ex) in The Eighth Sense. It was a typical "faen fatale" role but so well done. So a tie between 2 totally different takes on the destructive ex.

The Trope You Hate Except When It's "This Series": OK, "hate" is a strong word for how I feel about the drop-of-rain-makes-you-ill so love-interest-takes-care-of-you trope. It's OK. But holy SHIT is it overused. Holy shit. I sigh resignedly when I realize we're going there. EXCEPT. When P'Phayu goes to visit Rain in Love in the Air when he's sick, and his version of caregiving? Forcibly applying medicine in the form of a rectal suppository. It is so funny, weirdly sexy, very in line with their dynamic (doesn't get in the way of their romance moments later at all), & it shoves a big middle finger up the overoveroverused sick-bed trope.

Most Visually Pleasing Love Scene: Okay, THE scene in The Sign is the clear winner in my & many people's books. But there are so many runners-up: the post-race one in Love in the Air. Just about every one in Pit Babe (both couples) & My Personal Weatherman. (A lot of other faves don't quite qualify as visually or emotionally pleasing--lustfully pleasing should be a 3rd category in this challenge!)

Most Emotionally Pleasing Love Scene: Again, I have a clear winner: Cherry Magic Thailand. So full of emotion, so well deserved, so everything. Sigh. But lots of runners-up: same scene in The Sign, both kissing scenes in DNA Says Love You (tame but soo emotionally satisfying), Ray & Sand's camper reunion in Only Friends, the post-prison love scenes for both couples in Kiseki: Dear to Me, the 1st time in I Feel You Linger in the Air ...

Breakup That Should've Stayed Broken Up: Maybe it's because I try to be choosy in what I watch all the way thru or maybe I'm a big softy who tends to root for every couple no matter how lame. In all my completed shows, I could only think of 2 breakups where I wasn't at all invested in them getting back together (and maybe against it): Tian/Poon, What Zabb Man and Top/Mew, Only Friends.

Wedding You Wish You Had an Invite To: If we're talking weddings that actually appeared in the show, Achi and Karan's in Cherry Magic Thailand, obvs! If it's hypothetical weddings, I'd be desperate to go to one of ANY of the characters in Playboyy! I'd wear a bulletproof vest & bring my own flask of booze, but it would be the trashy chaos-filled social event of a lifetime.

Give 5 Good Boys a Gold Star: Just 5? OK, some I haven't mentioned yet. 1. Shin Woo, Light on Me, 2. Palm, Never Let Me Go, 3. Mohk, Last Twilight, 4. Thun, He's Coming to Me, 5. Neua, Secret Crush on You. Best boys!

The Top 5 Most Sad Boys: I'll limit it to ones where the suffering was kinda pretty, not just painful. 1. Way, Pit Babe, 2. Akk, The Eclipse, 3. Kaipa/Gaipa, Moonlight Chicken, 4. Hae Bom, Cherry Blossoms After Winter, 5. Kiyoi, My Beautiful Man

Bestest Besties: Just one? Gah! Fine, Pearl & Gavreel in Gameboys. She got those boys together in quarantine!

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suzannahnatters · 1 year

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Trope Talk #1: Enemies to Lovers: A Deeper Dive

Reports of my death have been exaggerated, but not greatly. While I was in bed for a week lately, roleplaying a Victorian invalid, I watched a YouTube doing a deep dive on the enemies to lovers trope. While it was really fun seeing her break down subtropes (hate to love, rivals to lovers, reluctant allies, villain romance, and more - all of which I adore), I found myself somewhat disappointed by her attempt to discuss the deeper issues surrounding the trope. Like, yes: a lot of people enjoy things in fiction that they would not enjoy IRL and mature readers CAN distinguish between fantasy and reality...but also the media we consume DOES shape us, not all readers ARE as mature as we'd like to think, and while this trope can be executed in a way that's not problematic, it can also be executed in a way that is. Even if we wouldn't all personally draw the line between toxic and healthy in precisely the same place, I think that line does objectively exist. So, here are some of the ways I've subjectively drawn that line in my personal writing and reading when it comes to this trope...

SOME WAYS OF DOING ETL RIGHT

1. Not everyone is going to agree as to what's healthy and what's not, and it's important to listen to others.

Some are going to be mad at me for loving this trope at all, and some are going to be mad at me for thinking that one still needs to exercise judgement and that not everything goes, but hear me out. As a writer, the harder you go with this trope, the more divided your audience will be. Given that we all tend to draw the lines in different places, I think that listening to each other and discussing the reasons behind our own preferences and choices is going to help all of us understand the stakes, avoid hurting or triggering readers who have trauma from toxic relationships, and extend grace to storytellers who don't make the same decisions we would. And we shouldn't be defensive that this is necessary. ETL is actually a fairly new and under-explored trope, which I think is part of why it can be so divisive, especially in a post-#MeToo landscape where a lot of us are starting to rethink the controlling men and helpless women in pairings we've been conditioned to see as romantic. Meanwhile, as an author with a deep love for this trope, I hope that posts like this will help more cautious readers to understand that writing about dark and spiky relationships doesn't necessarily mean romanticising abusive behaviour. Either way, I've benefited from listening in humility and I truly think my stories are better for it.

2. Remember that evil is not misunderstood.

If you'll be writing ETL, then you need to decide early on if the love interest is evil or just misunderstood, and be careful to write him accordingly and be honest about it. If the love interest literally goes around killing innocent people, deal with that. That's evil, that's not (just) a traumatic childhood. On the other hand, if the love interest is antagonistic because of a misunderstanding, but is a fundamentally decent person deep down, he probably wouldn't casually slap the heroine around or otherwise act like a jerk. One mistake I used to see a lot of writers making (less often these days) is trying to convince me that some loathsome jerk is just misunderstood. No, if he's been doing bad things, don't try to explain his guilt away. Confront it head on.

THE LAST JEDI was my gateway drug to ETL precisely because I'd never seen this trope done so beautifully and so uncompromisingly: when Rey is forced to face the fact that the boy she likes is unrepentantly evil, she refuses to join him, explodes him and gets out of there. Ben isn't ready to seek repentance yet; he's a proud, if wavering, villain. Because the movie was absolutely honest about the evil within Ben, I was able to genuinely hope Rey might confront that evil and exorcise it, instead of being gaslit into thinking it was all right.

By contrast, in the very Bluebeard-vibes kdrama MASK, the love interest believes he's responsible for the death of his late fiancee and is being manipulated by the villain into thinking he's criminally insane. As a result, he believes that he's going to kill the heroine, his new wife. Physical touch and dirt are both triggers for him, too, and what the audience sees as a trauma response comes across to the heroine as strong hostility. He tells the heroine he is going to kill her, and she believes him, but the truth is that he dreads it as much as she does. This is a really beautifully done form of misunderstanding. Just remember that to be believable, misunderstandings need to be resolved fairly quickly.

3. Enemies doesn't need to mean hatred or toxicity.

While hate to love is a valid subtrope - especially in contexts where the characters aren't literally trying to kill each other, like in a contemporary romcom - ETL does NOT need to involve toxicity. There's a difference between ordering the assassination of an enemy, versus strangling your wife to terrorise her into obedience; both are bad, but only the latter is classic domestic violence, which casts doubt on any "HEA". Enemies need not hate or even abuse each other to be at odds; they may feel deep personal respect for a worthy opponent, who just happens to be ideologically committed to an opposing cause and therefore duty bound to antagonise the other. Personally, these characters may like, respect, or even passionately love each other - but thanks to duty, they're obliged to thwart each other.

A favourite example of this is Nikita and Michael from the spy show NIKITA. The pair started out as master and pupil before becoming coworkers for a rogue government agency, Division. Now Nikita has gone rogue herself and is working to bring down Division. She knows that Michael is still hanging in there for several reasons - he still believes Division serves his country, he's been skilfully manipulated by the head of the agency, and above all he feels the need to protect Division's young agents who are increasingly exploited by them. Nikita still has respect for Michael because of all these things and because he's the man who trained her to be as awesome as she is - and because she's his best student, Michael returns the sentiment and still goes out of his way to protect her, even as he's trying to hunt her down. Midway through the season, Nikita tries to protect Michael by preventing him from taking out the man who once killed his family - at which point Michael's view of Nikita sours. But she never stops respecting him and he's still willing to work with her when necessary to protect his agents. Throw in some mad chemistry and you've got the ingredients for a perfect ETL situation - although it has some hostility from Michael's side, it's never without that solid core of care and respect for each other. This is what makes the romance work, of course; all romances need a good reason for the character to care about each other.

4. Remember that ETL is a fundamentally transformative relationship.

This builds on my first point. In ETL, unless there's a valid misunderstanding at play, there are probably moral/ethical differences between the characters. Thus, a huge part of your romance needs to be about resolving those differences, usually for the better. In other words (unless you're really into a corruption arc for the protagonist), the villainous/antagonistic character needs to genuinely repent and change, and we need that change to be demonstrated convincingly in story. At this stage, then, a good ETL story becomes about character growth, which means that it cannot be rushed. If the love interest has genuinely been evil, then he needs to change and prove it.

LOVE BETWEEN FAIRY AND DEVIL is a great example of a transformative ETL story. At the beginning of the drama, Dongfang Qingcang is a terrifying evil overlord who has frozen his emotions, killed his own father to rise to power, mastered hellfire magic and terrorised the three realms. As the story unfolds we do learn that there are some misunderstandings: Dongfang's father is the one who destroyed his emotions and forced him as a child to kill him, as well as instilling in him the fear that his people will be destroyed unless he conquers their enemies. But, this doesn't make Dongfang's villainy okay. Even after his emotions have been reawoken by our adorable heroine he still needs to realise that invading her homeland is not the right way to say thank you. By the end of the story we see that Dongfang is indeed a changed overlord. It takes a while, but it is believable.

5. Related, the characters should be a match for each other, especially when it comes to power and to morals.

I think a lot of the objections to ETL and villain romance pairings come from a perceived mismatch between the two characters: a weak person with a stronger person, or a pure and good person with a despicable manipulative blackguard. I think that it's always a good idea to balance this out. If your story begins with the love interest kidnapping your heroine to be his queen, why not let your heroine run a coup and replace him on the throne - right when he least expects it? The fact that your heroine is willing to get her hands dirty when it comes to this antagonist is not just delicious drama - it's also evidence that the two of them have more in common than they might think, and that in a longterm relationship she won't have any problems standing up to him. Alternately, if your heroine is going to remain pure and good throughout, she should probably be a match for the villain in terms of power, however that is measured in your story (and it can be a totally different sort of power than the villain wields). One of the most delicious things when watching any villain fall in love is finding the one woman whom he's absolutely helpless before.

I think Holly Black did this really well in the FOLK OF THE AIR trilogy. At first, Jude is a powerless mortal in the deadly fae court, and Cardan is the fae prince who delights in tormenting her. Jude proves herself far more cunning and ruthless than Cardan as she maneuvers the two of them into power as reluctant allies. It's clear that what Jude lacks in magic she makes up for in sharp intelligence and will to survive, and her ability to find a happy ending hinges on her ability to let down her guard and be vulnerable to Cardan. On the other end of the scale, Beauty and the Beast in most of its incarnations is about two kind people who want different things for sympathetic reasons, so that even though Beauty is held captive by the Beast we can understand the Beast's desperation to break his curse (and the Disney animated classic makes his motivations even more sympathetic by imposing a rapidly narrowing window of opportunity in which to do so). The Beast is truly gentle, and Belle is just spirited enough to snap back at him when he snaps at her. Both these stories work because the lovers are fundamentally a match.

6. Be creative.

There are all sorts of ways to create that delicious see-saw between "I adore you" and "I am going to kill you". The kdrama THE MASK, as mentioned above, uses the hero's mental health in an incredibly respectful way to create a sense of antagonism. The kdrama FLOWER OF EVIL does something similar. In Megan Spooner's absolutely incendiary SHERWOOD, there's a scene where the love interest goes from nearly killing the protagonist to tenderly embracing and caring for her within the very same chapter. Normally this would be the red flag to end all red flags, but it doesn't work that way here. How did Spooner manage it? Simple. The love interest doesn't know that the outlaw Robin Hood, whom he's trying to capture, is actually the same person as Maid Marian, the fair lady he's in love with - and when a quick costume change takes our heroine from one persona to another, the love interest's behaviour changes too. The emotional rollercoaster is real - but only for her.

7. There doesn't need to be a HEA.

I know, a lot of you are going to be up in arms about this, but it's true. Sometimes, especially in a straight up villain romance, the villain shouldn't get the girl. Maybe that's because she wants someone else, maybe it's because he's too manipulative and evil to be convincing as a long term relationship. But, let me frame it like this: why limit yourself just to writing the viable romances? There's a lot of good fun that can be got out of unviable romances too. You may not feel comfortable settling down with the villain, but that doesn't mean he can't be kissed :3

For example, in THE RINGS OF POWER the showrunners did something I never expected and gave Sauron himself a little crush on his greatest nemesis, Galadriel. The final episode, as he revealed his true identity and did his level best to manipulate her into joining him to rule Middle Earth, put joy into the souls of fangirls everywhere. It also caused a whole lot of people to clutch their pearls for some reason which remains opaque to me. After all, Tolkien was the man who wrote Eol, Maeglin, Wormtongue, and that moment when Morgoth himself was perving on Luthien Tinuviel. That aside, this is never going to be a viable match. Galadriel is married and hates Sauron's guts and Sauron is still a manipulative snake whose plans for healing Middle Earth involve him ruling as its lord and master, hopefully with Galadriel at his side. Galadriel doesn't fall for it for a second, which is one of the very things that makes this kind of story so incredibly satisfying to me. The fact that she won't succumb to his manipulation and temptation is incredibly empowering. As in THE LAST JEDI, the ball is in Sauron's court as to whether he changes to deserve her. And of course he won't - not just because he goes on to become the Lord of the Rings of Barad-dûr but more importantly because he never loved Galadriel for who she is but because of the way she made him feel, powerful and purposeful.

Not all villain romances need to end this way, of course, because some villains are capable of change. I think this is what makes Reylo viable where Haladriel is not. While Sauron and Galadriel each appeal to the EVIL in each other, Rey appeals to the good in Ben; he meanwhile desires the Light in her. This is why her refusal does ultimately prompt him to change, although of course the story's resolution was massively bungled in THE RISE OF SKYWALKER.

8. Love should be what the villain needs - but not what he wants.

It's hard to make absolute rules when it comes to any artistic choice, but this is probably the closest I come when dealing with this trope: because there should be consequences for the love interest's misdeeds, especially when it comes to the heroine. I call this the POTO rule: if the love interest wants the heroine romantically or sexually abuses her, he should not be rewarded by getting her. Enemies to lovers may fight over anything by any means, but not over romantic or sexual possession of each other. If the villain becomes a villain in order to possess the heroine, then a HEA for them involves giving him exactly what he wanted and thereby justifying his bad behaviour. Mind you, this doesn't mean the love interest can never want the heroine on some level; if he did not then this would not be a romance. We're talking about his most fundamental motivation and his most important story goal. She should not be either of them; she should be a distraction, an impediment to them.

This is simply good writing sense. Enemies to lovers normally implies a positive change arc for the love interest. Every good positive change arc involves a character who Wants one thing, say, to rule the world; but Needs something totally different - the capacity to make peace through compassion, say. Such characters may or may not get what they Want, depending on how good it is for them and the people around them, but they'll always get what they Need. This is why I think ETL works best when the heroine herself is the thing the antagonist doesn't know he Needs. As an enemy, and even more so if he's a villain, he's likely to be unscrupulous in getting what he Wants, and he shouldn't get her for the same reasons that characters often don't get what they Want. Think about it: the villain probably needs some hard consequences for what he's done. He can get them, *and also get the girl*, but only as long as the girl isn't the motivation for his crimes.

{How does this fit with the "stolen bride" genre of story, usually a fairytale? Do I disapprove of those on principle? Mm, no. If the bride was stolen primarily because the kidnapper claimed to have a romantic or sexual attraction to her, I might object. But there's usually some other motivation. He wants to break a curse; he wants to annex her kingdom; he wants to keep her out of his enemies' hands; he might have been ordered to marry her by someone he dares not cross, or bound by an ancient custom; in any case he ought not to be personally motivated to control or possess her. This is one of those grey areas where lines blur and it's wise to listen and be careful because so many real women have been trapped in marriages to real live villains; but the thing is very doable under the right circumstances.}

I call this the POTO rule because it was inspired by THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. In this story, Erik is obsessed with Christine to the point where romantic and sexual possession of her drives everything he does. He kills, manipulates, and gaslights everyone at the Paris Opera in an attempt to win Christine's heart, and ultimately he's willing to threaten to kill the man Christine truly loves in order to get the thing he Wants: Christine's hand in marriage. Now, I know a lot of you ship this pairing and I'm not going to scold you for it; maybe you ship them the way I ship Haladriel, loving the relationship without thinking it should end in a HEA, or perhaps you think Christine can fix Erik through some genuinely transformative plotline, or maybe you just want Erik to get what he wants even though it's messed up, and whatever it is I hope you have fun with it. But personally, from the perspective of a published author with a sense of responsibility to my readers, I really think the story ended in the best possible way. Erik doesn't get what he Wants (Christine) but he does get what he Needs (a transformative moment of transcendent compassion that enables him to act in a truly loving manner, by letting Christine go).

So, most of the time, I think it's wisest if the heroine is what the love interest doesn't know he Needs. Again, LOVE BETWEEN FAIRY AND DEVIL does this SO well. Dongfang Qingcang doesn't have time for love - emotionless and too busy Evil Overlording, he's never been in love before. So, when he's saddled with an adorable, dimwitted flower fairy, he can't wait to break the spell that links them together so that he can kill her and get on with his villainous plans. When her emotions begin to infect him, he can't help falling in love with her, even though he fights it every single step of the way. She's absolutely not what he Wants, but she is everything he Needs to thaw his frozen heart and teach him to act with compassion and empathy. Even though he spends much of the series planning to kill her, the HEA doesn't strike me as being Problematique the way that an Erik/Christine HEA would be - because a HEA with Orchid represents the moral growth that Dongfang needs, rather than the selfish desire he wants.

9. Maybe the villain's HEA is with someone else.

This doesn't mean a villain is irredeemable or shouldn't get a HEA. It just might mean that his HEA is with someone else. (Unless he's actually a rapist. Then just light the man on fire.) Erik shouldn't get Christine because he's done so much evil in order to possess her. But, once she's broken through to him to show him compassion, he might be ready to learn to love and to make amends for his past crimes...perhaps with someone else.

This was a huge part of the inspiration for the character of Vasily in my Bête Epoque stories. He does something which traumatises the heroine so much, there's no realistic HEA for them. Like Christine, she forgives him anyway, even in the midst of betrayal. And like Erik, he finds he's unable to go through with his villainous plans. She gets her HEA with somebody else, but I found myself with this incredibly compelling character whom a lot of people were pulling for. Vasily has already learned a huge lesson through having loved and lost my first heroine - so when he meets my second heroine, even though in a lot of ways he's still a treacherous monster, he's able to start afresh, and do better, with someone far more resilient who holds far greater power over him.

10. Individual characters will need individual things.

Finally, I think it's necessary to use judgement based on the individual characters and what they need. This is another reason why it's so difficult to make hard and fast rules here. For instance, I said that if the enemy sexually assaults the heroine he should forgo any hope of a HEA with her. But I think we've all seen romances that involve, say, some dubiously consensual kissing, which we can understand the kissee forgiving. By the same token, the act which disqualifies my character Vasily from his first HEA is not sexual assault but something which is coded that way within the story world, and experienced that way by the heroine (vampire bite). The fact that it's not literally sexual assault is what makes it possible for Vasily to get a romantic second chance, but the fact that it is figurative sexual assault is one of the main things that decided me against a HEA the first time. So, I think that whether you're a writer or reader, it's important to exercise judgement based not just on the things that are obvious, but also on less obvious things like the characters' specific needs, the thematic symbolism of the story world, and more.

So those are my best ETL writing guidelines - and again, this is only what works for me! I think it's really hard to make hard and fast rules for any artistic work, but from thinking about what works for me and what doesn't, these are some of the lines I've drawn for myself. If you're reading this, I hope it provokes some helpful thoughts :-)

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opinated-user · 2 years

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Lily Orchard is simultaneously misandrist, misogynist, cisphobic and transphobic at the same time and I didn't think that was somehow possible. Also convinced that she only cares about her native heritage as some sort of "free pass" on being racist as well because she genuinely does not seem to give too shits about her own heritage and the same goes for her being antisemitic and claiming Mikaila's possible jewish ancestry as a way to get off the hook.

Is she trying to be just... loathsome on purpose??

to clarify, LO hasn't actually tried to use MO's ancestry on that kind of way. MO herself doesn't speak about it at all as far I know, which is her right to do, but she did mentioned in passing the antisemitism on the Harley's show during her own video and that makes it even weirder that LO just glosses over completely that aspect, admitting that she just "forgot" that was a thing. as to why her opinions are all over the place, i think it's more a thing of LO not having a very clear and consistent set of principles to go off with and not consideration for any other person outside of herself than she having any active intention. transphobia is bad when it's directed at herself, but not when she directs her at others she wants to silence. racism is bad when it's about herself, but not when she casually does it to others and ignores people's critiques. misogyny is bad when it's about characters she enjoys or to defend tropes she likes, but not when it's about disregarding people's critique of her fanfiction. so on and so forth.

#lily orchard

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marjiandco · 2 years

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14. Attrition

Time/Place: Shadowbringers, final fight. Marji and Emet are battered, but they each must fight to their final breath

Rock embeds into skin. Bloody skidmarks trail along her side. No time to wallow.

She rolls to the side, pushing from bruised elbows to get to her feet. Hades was there, and with clawed hands punches her hard across the mouth, again tossing her back. She spits out blood from her cheeks torn open by her teeth, brown spots in her eyes.

At least it’s not white.

He dogs her heels as she goes to her knees then back down, scooting back quickly as she waits for an agonizing moment for Titan to cover her in a barrier. Hades reaches for her as the rock begins to form, but her weakened magicks were not fast enough. He breaks through and grabs hold of her and squeezes at he lifts her up.

“We could have worked together, Emet.” She rasps.

Nails constrict, leaving long marks along her torso as titan rises to defend her. Her summon starts to glow and quake as stalagmites break free of its skin and slams into Hades hand.

She drops to the floor and again runs to put some distance between them. She needs time, she needs more aether.

“Scurrying about is your ilks common practice. Biting as rats caught in barrels.” Hades growls.

He spreads out his arms, and the platform shudders as air flows towards him. She feels for her agony and rage, getting into a trancal state to call forth Bahamut. Hades laughs.

“You’re tricks, your everything but imitation of the lost. Let me show you a true mage’s strength.”’

Air turns to shards, the sound of thousands of wine glasses breaking as it forms. A crack, and they race forward.

She screams out and bahamut lifts her up, the shards ilms away from her legs as she clamors onto her summons back. Each breath is more ragged than the last as her tether pulls taut underneath her summon’s will batters against her own. They hurtle towards Hades and Bahamut rears back to unleash Akh Morn.

Hades is ready, and lifts its feathered left arm to protect his main body. Summoner and summon dart to the side as Hades right arm grows impossibly large and reaches forward. They both attack it, her with painflare and bahamut with astral impulse.

The combination knocks a few of the masks out of Hades cloak sleeves, and their enemy freezes and whips his arm back into place. Both arms curl towards him, creating a protective shell.

“But not for him…” Marji says to herself. She has bahamut circle the ascian, attacking at every crevice, every opening to drop more of the masks he held dear.

“Foul image, loathsome existence of mockery. You should have taken my offering, my kindness to stay with me in Amarot until your meager mind slipped into the white. I rescind it, I rescind it all. You will feel the extent of my suffering with your last moments in this putrid world.”

Every word is under seige by his thousand thousand years in this plane, the weight, the hatred, the bitterness of a madman lost to lonliness. He lashes out with cruelty, as if in attempt to erase every minute that they shared with each other, the moments of connection between past and future.

She can’t think about that. Not now, not with two worlds at stake. They are but enemies in a game of attrition, waiting to see who’s needling will cause the other to fall.

#ffxivwrite2022 #shadowbringers spoilers #marji #I really wanted to do something a little more involved #but im on a bit of a time table #so have a WIP for now!

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roman-catholic-mass-readings · 2 years

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11th July >> Mass Readings (USA)

Saint Benedict, Abbot

Monday, Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time.

Monday, Fifteenth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the feria (Monday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Isaiah 1:10-17

Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes.

Hear the word of the LORD, princes of Sodom! Listen to the instruction of our God, people of Gomorrah! What care I for the number of your sacrifices? says the LORD. I have had enough of whole-burnt rams and fat of fatlings; In the blood of calves, lambs and goats I find no pleasure.

When you come in to visit me, who asks these things of you? Trample my courts no more! Bring no more worthless offerings; your incense is loathsome to me. New moon and sabbath, calling of assemblies, octaves with wickedness: these I cannot bear. Your new moons and festivals I detest; they weigh me down, I tire of the load. When you spread out your hands, I close my eyes to you; Though you pray the more, I will not listen. Your hands are full of blood! Wash yourselves clean! Put away your misdeeds from before my eyes; cease doing evil; learn to do good. Make justice your aim: redress the wronged, hear the orphan’s plea, defend the widow.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 50:8-9, 16bc-17, 21 and 23

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

“Not for your sacrifices do I rebuke you, for your burnt offerings are before me always. I take from your house no bullock, no goats out of your fold.”

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

“Why do you recite my statutes, and profess my covenant with your mouth, Though you hate discipline and cast my words behind you?”

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

“When you do these things, shall I be deaf to it? Or do you think that I am like yourself? I will correct you by drawing them up before your eyes. He that offers praise as a sacrifice glorifies me; and to him that goes the right way I will show the salvation of God.”

R/ To the upright I will show the saving power of God.

Gospel Acclamation

Matthew 5:10

Alleluia, alleluia. Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the Kingdom of heaven. Alleluia, alleluia.

Gospel

Matthew 10:34-11:1

I have come to bring not peace, but the sword.

Jesus said to his Apostles: “Do not think that I have come to bring peace upon the earth. I have come to bring not peace but the sword. For I have come to set

a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; and one’s enemies will be those of his household.

“Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me, and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up his cross and follow after me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. “Whoever receives you receives me, and whoever receives me receives the one who sent me. Whoever receives a prophet because he is a prophet will receive a prophet’s reward, and whoever receives a righteous man because he is righteous will receive a righteous man’s reward. And whoever gives only a cup of cold water to one of these little ones to drink because he is a disciple– amen, I say to you, he will surely not lose his reward.” When Jesus finished giving these commands to his Twelve disciples, he went away from that place to teach and to preach in their towns.

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Benedict, Abbot

(Liturgical Colour: White)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Proverbs 2:1-9

Inclining your heart to understanding.

My son, if you receive my words and treasure my commands, Turning your ear to wisdom, inclining your heart to understanding; Yes, if you call to intelligence, and to understanding raise your voice; If you seek her like silver, and like hidden treasures search her out:

Then will you understand the fear of the LORD; the knowledge of God you will find; For the LORD gives wisdom, from his mouth come knowledge and understanding; He has counsel in store for the upright, he is the shield of those who walk honestly, Guarding the paths of justice, protecting the way of his pious ones.

Then you will understand rectitude and justice, honesty, every good path.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 34:2-3, 4-5, 6-7, 8-9, 10-11