#He is so happy to have autonomy again and uses it for the express purpose of causing shenanigans

[ryorue]

I'm obsessed with the idea of a mischief maker Astarion. Like, that man has spent so long without autonomy that he uses all of it just to be a chronic little shit. Imagine this: Astarion, bored, simply needs to cause mischief. His hands are twitchy and he simply cannot keep them to himself.

So he randomly gets up, walks over to where (probably Wyll) is like preparing vegtables for the night while Karlach stands beside him giving him terrible cooking advice. And Astarion just. Nonchalantly walks over, picks up a carrot, and walks away with it. Bites into it, too. Makes sure they see him do it. They know he doesn't need to eat it. He knows they know he doesn't need to eat it. He's a fucking vampire. But he does, and they can't do shit about it. Or like. He just walks up to Gale, plucks the book from his hands, and starts reading. Stretches out, gets comfy, makes sure to make use of all of Gale's one pillow (because you know Gale is the type of man to have only one pillow) And just. Doesn't say anything.

And what's Gale gonna do about it?? Get mad? Astarion doesn't care. It's funny.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #He is so happy to have autonomy again and uses it for the express purpose of causing shenanigans #He probably targets Wyll really specifically too #I just know they both throw up in their mouth every time they see eachother #Never targets Tav though #so tav is on it #and thinks its hysterical #bg3 astarion #wyll ravengard #also can you imagine how cute Karlach would be trying to help with cooking #just being super overbearing about all the things she wants Wyll to do #karlach #bg3 gale

[upper-sixth-fanclub]

I find gyutaro really interesting because to be honest, I don't really understand him. In a way that makes me want to know more.

He says he likes pitiful and ugly things, and finds it funny/cathartic to bully people, even outside of his demonic need to kill. His entire purpose, his name, identity, is built around daki. To me, he seems to be much more motivated by his love for daki than his hatred for everything else. Does he really like pitiful things? Or just he just like having the ability to punch down?

Hello again.

And oh boy I could write you a whole freakin' essay on my thoughts and feelings about Gyutaro's character profile. The short answer is: both? Both is good. My dude has been sitting on rancid vibes his whole life AND death; no therapy, medical attention, or social support network. He was let down, and he's still angry about it, and the only person who never let him down was Daki. The slightly longer 'Charlie Day standing in front of a conspiracy board' ramble under the cut. Sorry it's a little rushed, I'm shooting from the hip here.

I will say I don't think it's impossible for a character to have multiple motivations as long as they don't contradict each other too much. He can be motivated by spite AND codependency. Sure, he's devoted his entire identity and career and autonomy to Daki, but he seemed to still remember his grudge against humanity as a demon. Their synchronized villain monologue was literally about taking fortune from others, so that they could live better lives. And that kind of self-righteous sadism goes hand-in-hand with how much he loves Daki. He'd been rejected by humanity, so he rejected them back. The only person who didn't mistreat him was Ume. Society adored Ume for her beauty, so he taught her to make that into a weapon. Which is awesome-- she stands up for herself and knows her worth-- but it eventually twisted into something awful when she's matured as a demon and just uses violence for almost every problem she has.

As for his sadism... again, I think it's not a case of one or the other. When Gyutaro was demeaning Tanjiro, many folks caught on to the way he was using words and insults that had once been reserved for him as a living person. That grudge carried over beyond the demonic amnesia, and it feels sincere and personal. I think he projects hardcore. He likes pitiful and broken things because hey, it's not HIM who's pitiful and broken, but unconsciously, he knows he used to be in that position. He's the powerful demon, he's the one who gets to be in a position of control now. And what did people in a position of control do for him? Well. Throw rocks and call names and bully.

I think his idea of sympathy is twisted too. I've expressed before how his affections tend to root in possession and domination, and so he relates to people with shitty lives by taking control of them. Again, like with Daki. He adores her so much and wanted a happy life for her, and she would probably agree she IS happy as an oiran given every privilege one could have. But she doesn't know that there's more to life than being an oiran and hurting others for your own gain. His ideology was literally what raised her, so her perspective is as rotten as his, resulting in an echo chamber. When Gyutaro began to offer Tanjiro demonhood, it wasn't out of a place of sympathy. It was out of a place of control-- he even threatened to kill Nezuko if Tanjiro didn't take up his offer. That's peak crab-bucket behavior: he wanted to make things worse for the Slayer siblings, even if he would argue the opposite. So I think yes, he likes pitiful things, but not in a healthy way. And yes, he likes to punch down, because that's what pitiful things are for, according to Gyutaro.

#mod gyutaro #daki #gyutaro #meta commentary #gyutaro headcanons #daki headcanons

[plush-rabbit]

Taking Care Of Tomura Shigaraki - Headcanons

Request: can i request tomura with a s/o thats always buying/making clothes for him, cutting his hair, doing his skincare and just caring for his appearance in general

A/N: i tried knitting once, i wasn’t good at it immediately and i gave up:(

-

Tomura isn’t one to care for his appearance, not because he’s lazy or unable to do something about it, but rather because he is apathetic about it. The dry skin does have it’s setbacks- itchiness, cracking skin that bleeds easily and brittle skin- but it’s nothing that he minds too much. At this point in his life, he’s used to how he appears- he doesn’t hate his appearance and he’s made peace that any product applied to him just makes him feel uncomfortable. However, when you come along, you dote over him, wanting to take care of him and make sure that he feels his best whenever possible.

You don’t try to change, but rather help him feel a bit better. You’ve dealt with your fair share of skin problems and even just having dry skin is enough for you to feel uncomfortable. You do your best to find the best creams for him, making sure to figure out what textures and scent she isn’t fond of and what ingredients he reacts negatively to. While the experience takes time away from his duties as a leader, he doesn’t mind it too much. He has you with him, sitting on his lap with your hands pressed against his face- cupping at his cheek or twirling with a piece of hair- so he’ll sit still and lean into your hands as you take care of him.

You’ve gotten into habits of knitting and sewing so when his shirt has a hole in it or his sweater sleeve, you’ll patch them up. You make sure to add a match color so nithing stick outs. It’s then that you realize he has no clothing prepared for the winter cold and that he’s left with just a thicker sweater to wear. You decide to buy yarn and stitch something for him- a sweater to keep him warm and it’s a bit oversized and a few loops out of place towards the end, but it's made with love. He’ll take it in his hands and give you a sort of wide eye look as you explain that you wanted him to have something personal. You wanted to make him gloves but you’re sure knitted gloves wouldn’t work well with a missing finger hole or two and that it sort of defeats the purpose to keep him warm.

It’s a bit of a mess when taking care of him. He’s independent and apathetic about his appearance so when you approach wanting to try to give him a semblance of love and care, he is at a loss for words. He allows you to do what you want, but he feels as if he has to repay you back in some sort of way. He’ll hold your gifts in his hands, his pinky lifted and eyes narrowed as he asks what it is that you want in return. He can’t promise he’ll get it by ethical means, but he can promise to get it. He doesn’t understand the nature of a gift, he wasn’t given gifts when he was under the care of AFO without some sort of repayment. He had to do something good to earn things so when you appear gifting him knitted clothes, he stares at them, not knowing what you want or what he did to warrant something nice. He can only nod his head and give you a rough kiss on the cheek when you tell him its gift and that you expect nothing in return.

His closet is filled with similar types of clothing so, you like to buy him outfits and at first it was more about a bit of selfishness by dressing him in things you like and changing to things that he’s more comfortable in. You buy outfits that are dark in order to keep up the villain's attire to playing around with it and gifting him turtlenecks and different types of jackets. While you wish you could play around with color for his more noticable outfits, you know that he relies on stealth for a decent part of his work. You tend to give him colors for his sleepwear or even outfits for him to relax in. It starts off with bursts of color, wanting to see which one you think he will look nice in- you end up choosing warmer tones like reds and oranges and a few cooler tones like dark and light purples and dustier types of blues. You want him to have fun and you also want him to be happy with his style and feel seen so you decide to buy more gaming related things for him. Rings with a symbol of a console attached to it or mirroring one from a game, to shirts that have a logo or even a panel from a manga or scene that he likes. You like gifting him accessories just a bit more. It’s nice to see him wear something small and be reminded that he actually enjoyed the thing rather than just stuffing it into a drawer.

For the most part, he doesn’t really touch his hair, choosing to let it grow out rather than messing with it. On the rare occasion that he does cut his hair, he does it on his own. He isn’t a fan of having other people touch him, especially with something so sharp close to him. When he does cut his hair, he’s a bit reckless with it, seeing it as a form of expression rather than wanting to make it look something proper. Music will blast from his phone speaker, drums and loud screaming that matches his mood as he stands in front of the mirror, a pair of scissors in his hand as he snips around, fluffling up the sides and twirling the ends. While he isn’t one to care for appearances, his hair is the closest that he’ll take autonomy in, wanting to decide for himself how to style it.

Touch is something that he can be rather odd with. He craves it, wants it and will press your hand close to his nody desperate to just have you touch him, but there are other days where he is repulsed by it, touch so toxic to him that it makes his throat close and acid burns his tongue. One the occasion where he does enjoy touch, and he’s too tired to cut his own hair, he’ll drag you to the bathroom. He’ll sit in the shower, the tile cold underneath him as your hands run through his hair. Shivers will run down his spine when you press your lips to the crown of his head. You’re much gentler with his hair than he is, trimming at the ends and fluffing it with your hands, asking for his advice and wanting to follow it. He doesn’t let you do any more than just trimming the ends and sections where the hair is split, but even then, he appreciates that you did it for him.

Despite being in a relationship with you, he always expects you to turn away from him, to reject his touch or to simply grow bored of him. Yet, you’re still with him, gentle and caring, pulling him close to you and washing his hair. Your nails scratch against his scalp and you make sure that no soap reaches past his eyes, your voice a low hum as you mumble a song between your lips. It’s these moments where he can just fall asleep, he’ll lean into your touch and close his eyes, teeth piercing into the insides of his cheeks, desperate to hide his growing smile when the cool water rushes down. You might push, but you care for him.

He’s told you his sob story, has mentioned how he was raised under All For One and how he was denied things until he did what he was told, but he never expected anything from it. He hadn’t realized that you would want to care for him in ways that he had never been cared for before. Your hands are gentle, pressed against his face in a soft kiss, cream thin on your hands as you rub the cooling gel against him. Your hands hold his as you clip his nails, pressing your lips to his knuckles once you’re done. You give him love, your tenderness showing through and your smile gentle as you don’t expect a thing in return, only for you to kiss at the scar under his eye and pull away with a cheeky grin.

Time and time again, he’s been under your touch, welcomed and in awe of it when you are still gentle with him as if it were the first time. You call his name, a lilt in your voice as you pull out various things from your bag, gifting him various items with a smile wide on your face. He’s kissed you before, your lips soft compared to his, sweet like honey and making his teeth ache but he never tires of it. Your touch is something new to him, something old and wanted, something so heavy and intoxicating that he’s sure you are too good to be true. Shigaraki holds you close, his eyes half-lidded as your hand combs through his hair while he lays on your chest. He can feel your heartbeat through his chest and it’s his own personal lullaby listening to the rythmic thumping of it. His face will be red when you call him pretty, your hands still on him and his name on your tongue. Hidden from your view, he’ll smile and feel tears prick at his eyes.

#bnha #bnha imagines #bnha headcanons #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #bnha shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura #tomura headcanons #i wanna care for him #please hori #just give the man a bubble bath #i think all the viilains deserve it #they deserve tenderness #please #i wanna give him a scarf

[odelschwanky]

Don’t Leave (Coyote Starrk x Female Reader)

Word Count: 4055

**SMUT**

You sat there looking out at the desolate black of Hueco Mundo. The sand was so pretty, how it danced like gray glitter on the whispering wind.  The sky was deep, the clouds moved ever so slowly, and the horizon was just a thin line that you couldn't even decipher. Your hair stirred in the wind, only slightly, as you sulked and stared out at the only place you've ever known.

"Why are you out?"

You turned slowly to see him, and your heart jumped. You smiled softly as you admired the way his chestnut tinted hair swayed, grazing his shoulders. His silver eyes narrowed at you, and he appeared slightly concerned. It wasn't like him to show much emotion. You could see the slight furrow in his brow and the softening of his frown. He was worried about you, even though he wouldn't admit it. You could just tell.

"I wanted to look," you say quietly, turning back to the empty world that matched your heart. You didn't get to see the outside very often, for you were always deep inside the fortress of Las Noches. You were always inside that room. How were you an Espada, one of the most powerful beings in Hueco Mundo, yet so tamed and broken? You never understood it, but that's all you ever knew.

"It never changes, (y/n)."

He comes to your side, not quite standing shoulder to shoulder. You could still feel his pressure next to you. It was... overwhelming. He was always so intense. That intensity made you feel safe.

"I know," you reply because there wasn't any purpose in arguing. It did change. The wind was blowing Northeast today. Well, this time. You couldn't keep track of the days here. All you ever saw was the perpetual night. The only indication to the time was the slow and lonely cycle through full and empty that the moon traversed between. This time it was almost full.

He waited outside with you generously, allowing you to drink in the gloom for a while longer. You grabbed his hand when you were finished, and he took it firmly in his. He was wearing gloves, like usual. You liked the way the leather purchased in your hand, but you liked the way his skin felt much better. You haven't touched his hand in a long while. You thought about the last time, months ago perhaps. You sighed with the longing for it as he walked you back inside.

Your footsteps brilliantly resonated throughout the long empty halls of marble, almost as loud as the silence. You decided to ask him since you didn't ask for permission today. He never liked it when you disobeyed him, but he never seemed to punish you for it.

"Can I look outside again tomorrow?" You turn to glance at him. You didn't know what he would say. You hoped he would let you.

He grunted, running his hand over his neck. You were approaching the room. You didn't want to go back in there. You desperately wanted to stay, at least in the hallway, holding his gloved hand.

"Aizen won't like that," he sighed lazily.

Aizen never liked anything you did or didn't do. Anything that had anything to do with you, Aizen was already disapproving. You didn't understand why he hated you so.

"Then again, he never likes anything." He seemed to say exactly what you were thinking. Starrk looked at the ground and takes a deep breath again. He seemed to be trying to find either an excuse to keep you in or an excuse to let you out. You couldn't tell which. You patiently looked at him in eager anticipation. You loved the passive pout he always wore on his face.

"Maybe. Be good and I'll decide later."

"Okay," you say without protest.

You arrived at the place where you've spent years, maybe more, (you didn't know). You couldn't keep track of time because your monotonous life only had a few irregularities.

He pushed open the stone door you left unbarred when you escaped. Starrk looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and reprimand. You know better than to leave, he seemed to say with his gaze. And you didn't even try to be subtle about it either.

You both enter the dark, cold room. Starrk glances at the back wall with his eyes opened only a little larger than the restricted expression he kept them in. You hoped this meant he was pleased.

"What's this?"

You had done some painting while he was away. You hadn't seen him for a few days maybe. The black ink was now dry on the canvas you had propped up. The work was taller than both of you put together and wider than that. You had finished it before you had gone outside.

"It's something I did while you were gone," you tell him. He hadn't let go of your hand yet. You didn't want him to let it go. You wish he wouldn't leave so much.

"It's a beautiful painting." He said, assessing it. He seemed unimpressed. You sank, despite his compliment.

"Do you mean that?" You inquired this, not taking your eyes off of him.

He nods.

"I painted it for you." You squeeze his hand.

Starrk smiles for the first time in a long while. Seeing it made you happy.

It was strange, what you felt for him. He kept you locked up in a prison, not allowed to see or be seen by others, but you didn't hold any contempt for him. He likened you to some kind of pet, keeping you in a kennel all day, but you knew that he was keeping you safe. He was the only person you were allowed to see. When you think of human interaction, you think of him. All of your memories are made with him. Your life revolves around him. You were okay with that.

"Why?"

You look at him, confused. "What, you don't like it?

"It's not that. I'm grateful." He turned to you, face stone, void of emotion. "Why do you do these things for me?"

It wasn't the first time you had done a generous act for him. Many times you've made art for him. You've brought him things you find in the sand of Hueco Mundo, little trinkets you'd like him to have. You've made food for him on many occasions. You gave him gifts.

"I know you have the capacity to think. Why don't you want more for yourself?"

You did want more. You wanted freedom, autonomy, liberation from this place. You wanted to see a more beautiful world, like the one Starrk told you about when he went away to fight the Soul Reapers. You wanted to be free of this horrid, horrid place but the desire was never enough to light a fire under you and cause you to pursue it. The desire to be at Starrk's side was stronger.

"I... do." You say quietly. You wanted to be more. To him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. Did he feel guilty? Sad? Confused? Angry? You didn't want him to feel like this.

"You never wonder why, or who caused you to be this way? Or are you content with living like this?" He walked away from you, pacing about the room slowly, and deliberately.

You did wonder. You wondered about it all the time. Why you kept like bird when you had the tattoo on your front saying you were an Espada? Why didn't you have any knowledge of what you used to be? You didn't know anything except for him.

"Of course I wonder," you reply. You never raised your voice. You didn't have it in you to do it. You were making him upset, but he was breaking your heart.

"Then why don't you ever ask me what happened? Doesn't that matter to you?"

"I would like it to matter...  but it doesn't," you say.

It didn't.

Whether you knew about your past or not, nothing was going to change, was it? That's the only thing that you had faith in, was that things would be the same. "You know that, Starrk."

Starrk sighed again, shaking his head. He looked at you tentatively. He wanted to say something, but he decided against it. You could see it on his face. The single stream of light from the tall window high in the room crossed his face with an intense white glint. You could see every strand of hair glimmer, every strand of his stubbled goatee and thick brows.

"You make everything so hard."

"St- Starrk?" The tears pricked and began rolling down your face in one swift motion. He looked displeased with you. What did you do wrong?

The fury in his face wavered for only a moment when he saw you start to cry. As quickly as he faltered, he bulwarked his expression with deep-set brows, forming in a tight disapproving line.

"Don't leave again." He commanded.

Your stomach dropped as he turned to go. You reached out your hand to grab him, but you barely missed him. "What're you talking about?" You called, a lump in your throat.

"You're content with living like a helot. I can't accept that."

This comment shattered you like glass. His tone was full of disdain. He sounded like he hated you. His voice hurt you more than his words. You'd never heard him sound so angry before. Hopelessness filled you like a bubbling pit of tar, causing you to choke up on the hot, black tears.

How dare he be mad at you for that? He was the one keeping you hostage. He locked you away and treated you like a prisoner. How could he be mad at you for not doing anything about it when this was all you knew?

He walked so swiftly away from you, you couldn't bear to see him go. Who knew when he'd be back? He barred the door and was gone. "Don't leave again," you wanted to say to him. Why did he leave you? You were bound to this room with nothing in it, but you were also bound to him. Why didn't he know that?

Defeated, you drug the painting to the corner of the large, empty marble room. You wanted to burn it, but you didn't. It was for him. You still wanted him to have it.

Your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets tucked neatly between two pillars in the center of the floor, looked so inviting. You were destroyed. You just wanted to sob until he came back.

Time passed so slowly. Still, the days had passed. Over and over, the moon fell out of the line of the window, and you were left in total darkness, only for it to come back again. When the moon passed out of view for the tenth or eleventh time, you lit a few candles and placed them near your bed. You lie there, carved out and left empty. You wished another Espada would come to find you, and kill you. That would be the nicest thing they could do. You would ever be so lucky.

The door locked from the inside. You could leave. You could go look outside. You didn't. No desire came to you to disobey him. You couldn't stand yourself. Why don't you care? Why don't you have this desperate need to know your past? Why couldn't you act how he wanted you to? Independent, free-thinking, with a mind of your own.

You didn't know the answer.

You got up and went to the corner of the room, where the silent wall of water for your bathing was. It dripped down into a pool, big enough for you lie down three times over. You shed your clothes and stared at yourself in the solid, unwavering reflection. The number was branded across your chest, down your stomach extending to your hips. What did had it meant before? Why didn't you care? You didn't want to live like this anymore.

Crawling into the water, you lie down in it. Underneath the water, there was more sound than above. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears. You could hear your heartbeat. That was the only way you could even tell you were alive.

You were tempted to breathe in the water. Just to see what would happen.

Could you even drown?

It's been an unbearable time since you'd last seen Starrk. All those horrible things he said to you kept replaying in your mind. He was the only thing you had, the only one you loved. Could you even call it love?

How could you love a man who kept you in a cage?

You opened your mouth and let the water rush in. Your deep breath was a terrible one. Instant regret-filled your lungs, making them burn. Still you took another... but it was too much. Natural instict kicked in and you shot upright through the surface, coughing and sputtering. You threw up the water back in the pool. The retching combined with nausea building up in your gut was too much to take and you began to cry. The silence was broken with your childish bawling. You just wanted something, someone to stop your pain and loneliness.

You wanted Starrk to come back.

After you washed, you fumbled around in the trunk full of the clothes you owned. Most of them were elaborate, white robes with black trim that looked a little like Starrk's. You wore these as an Espada no doubt, but now you just wear them because it's all you have. You managed to find one of the less flashy items, a white shift gown made of satin. You liked to wear it when you slept.

With tears still in your eyes, you crawled into bed and let the feelings of worthlessness, hopelessness, and dread consume you. Within a few hours, you had finally wept yourself to sleep.

***

"Open the door."

You heard a firm order come from he another side. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes and sat up in a hurry. The blankets you buried yourself under had been strewn and draped all over your body. You heard the pounding again, more clearly now that you were awake.

"(y/n), open this damn door."

You throw off your cover and walk to the door, trying to wake up. Your bare feet pattering on the floor was the only noise that echoed in your hollow room.

"Did you hear me?" Starrk sounded urgent. You obeyed. It took all your strength to lift the bar on the door. You were weak, tired, sad. But you obeyed.

"(Y/n)!"

"I'm here."

The heavy stone door inched open and there you stood. Your long hair was still wet, your eyes were sunken and dark circles plagued them. You didn't look well at all. Your grief had gotten the best of you. You missed him.  You didn't smile when you saw him though. You couldn't smile. He had made you think about all of the things you hated about your life and made you realize how miserable you were. You were hurting. The look on his face let you know he could see that.

"What is it?" You ask slowly. You wanted to leap into his arms and tell him how you felt about him. You were so happy to see him, but you were so angry with yourself for feeling that way.

"Why don't you hate me?"

There was no feeling in his face. His indifferent eyes bore into you and it intimidated you. Your tears showed themselves to him and your lips parted to speak. You wanted to explain yourself but there were no words to explain how you felt.

"Because I can't."

Starrk's lips were on your in a second, and he had gathered you up in his arms. A sniffle escaped from you as you let him have your body. Starrk strode in, flawlessly multitasking between holding you in one arm and closing the door with the other, shoving the bar down with no effort at all, locking the both of you in your private world.

The only assertion you showed was the way you shoved off his clothes. Off came his jacket, then his shirt. They fell to the floor in a trail as he marched you to your bed. He laid you down, cupping your neck gently, but kissing you forcefully. The motivation in his motions was ravenous, as he tore your lips apart with his own. You had trouble keeping up. You tried to get some purchase on his back, but you couldn't find the strength to dig your nails in. Instead, you rubbed sensually on his bare skin. His bare skin...

He worked your gown off in no time at all. You couldn't feel the warmth of his touch. All you felt was leather. You seized his hands firmly and aggressively tugged both of the gloves off and forced his hands to your chest for him to grab. He eagerly obliged with a deep grunt and groped your body all over. Your heat was rising, ascending to something otherworldly. You needed him, whether you wanted to admit it or not.

He ground against your hips and you could feel him, gasping through the endless, messy kiss. His pants were hard to move, so you fumbled with them until he barked at you, removing them himself.

You said his name, softly yet desperately as he tried to enter you. It hurt, and you only clutched him tighter.

"Does it hurt?" He asked.

He parted from your lips to ask this important question. You couldn't see his face much in the utter darkness of the room, but you could see his pale blue eyes. The met yours with sincerity and intensity. You nod.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Starrk reassures you. He sounded soothing, exact, intentional. He wanted you to know it was okay. You felt like it was. You weren't worried.

You heard a slight slurp as Starrk licked his finger. It slid down your front, tracing the line of your tattoo and arrived at your sex, which wasn't quite as wet as it needed to be. He gently worked its way in, moving in gentle, circular movements that caused your core to tighten. "Talk to me," he commanded. "How does it feel?"

You nodded slowly and murmured your response. "It.. feels. good," you finished with a moan as he slowly, calmly entered another finger. You reached down to feel him. The length and girth of him was much more than his fingers could imitate. You rubbed your thumb across his opening, causing him to curse. Your thumb became a little slick. You continued to handle him, feeling him twitch in your grasp. He bucked into your hand, letting you know he liked it.

"Starrk..." you began. You wanted to tell him you loved him. It wasn't the right time, but you wanted to tell him anyway.

"Yes?"

Your the rustling of the blankets was all that you could hear beyond your voices. He positioned himself at your opening again, not giving your body any time to readjust back to the tightness it was before. He replaced his fingers with himself smoothly, it was like magic. It was easier this time when he pushed his way inside you. You moaned softly as your body gave way. You couldn't formulate the words.

"That's beautiful," he said, pinching your face in his hand. "You sound... Beautiful."

The way he rocked into your body sent chills through you. He filled you up with every stroke and you tightened around him every time. He went deeper and deeper into you until you could feel his hips press into yours. You were stuffed with him, and you didn't know how much more you could take.

He knelt now, back straight up and grabbed your hips. The inside of your thighs gave in to the pressure from his thumbs and you could feel the bruises already starting to form. In and out he went, growing faster and faster. His strokes were still light, like gentle swift kisses that barely swept the surface of the skin. By now you were a mess of whines and cries, but these were not of pain. You wanted so desperately to climax. The building pressure was aching inside you and all you wanted was release. You grabbed his wrists and squeezed them, saying his name over ad over.

"Starrk...please." You begged him.

"Not yet," he huffs.

He turned you over on to your stomach, and your breath caught. A firm hand came down on your shoulder blade, pressing you down into the cushions. You grabbed onto a blanket for some kind of outlet. Your hands clutched and Starrk lay down on top of you, his heavy weight feeling like a mass of stone. His face came close to your ear, and he spoke to you quietly, deeply, as he continued to drive you.

"Just relax," he groaned, making you feel all of him. His front was hot against your back and your sweat had started to mingle, making all his movements slick. You did as you were told, not knowing how much tension you'd been putting onto yourself. You were tightened on your own volition, and when you relaxed slowly, the sex felt better than you could've imagined.

He turned your head to kiss you, deeply, passionately. It was as if your tongues knew each other already, how familiarly they intertwined. It got messy, and soon his spit was dripping down your chin and your hair stuck to your sweaty cheeks and forehead. Your voice was fading with the strain. He had you in a hold and the only way out was to come.

You finished violently, tensing and clenching and crying loudly. Starrk gritted his teeth, the way you felt was too much for him. He came inside you while the two of you kissed, and he rolled over on his side with you still in his arms. He encased you in his grip, refusing to stop kissing you.

"I... don't want you to hurt anymore."

He said this between kisses, and you could feel the genuineness of the statement. It warmed your heart. All you wanted was him. Now that you had him... you were spent.

You fell asleep kissing him. There wasn't much energy left inside you. You had been hurt and healed by the same person. It exhausted you to the point of fainting and soon you were in a dreamless sleep.

***

The guise of the morning came by soft grey light, leaking in through the single window. You blinked open your eyes to see and feel Starrk still around you. His fingers lazily played in your hair and his legs draped over you, keeping you sheltered and safe. You looked up at him, the exhaustion hitting you.

"You're still here?" You sleepily mumble in surprise.

He plants a kiss on your lips and stirs, letting out a raspy groan.

"You're a wreck when I'm not around."

As much as you didn't want to admit it, he was right.

"Thank you for noticing," you pout, closing your eyes again.

"I didn't know it, but I need you too, (y/n)."

You felt around for his hand, which you found encircling your neck. You wriggled your fingers inside his hold and grasped it softly. "You... need me?"

You were dumbfounded. Starrk wasn't the type to need anyone. He was a lone wolf that didn't talk much to anyone, an apathetic, heartless man. The way he left and went days without coming to see you told you everything you needed to know about that. He couldn't be telling the truth.

"I'm telling the truth. When we're apart, something isn't quite right. I feel... incomplete. I don't like feeling like that."

So he only needed you to clear his conscience?

"But. That hurt on your face, when I came to you last night..." He squeezed your hand. "It looked like you were dying."

You were. You were dying without him. Now that he was here though, you felt better than you ever remember feeling.

"I'm not leaving you anymore."

#coyote starrk #coyote starrk x reader #bleach anime #bleach x reader #bleach one shots

[xaibaugrove]

An Analysis of Ellie

In honor of The Last Of Us Day, I’m finally gonna drag out this headcanon I’ve had in my drafts forever. If you choose to read this, good luck because it’s a long time. 

Of course, SPOILERS AHEAD. 

So, this all started with me thinking about how Ellie has suffered from survivor’s guilt ever since she discovered her immunity, when she was meant to die with her girlfriend/best friend Riley. 

In that moment, Ellie had already embraced death and wanted to share it with her loved one, but that was robbed from her. She continued to live while forced to watch who might have been the first person she ever loved turn from infection. Ellie had no explanation for why that gift of immunity had been given to her. She had that gift thrust upon her by forces outside of her control. Ellie had to contend with her new existence as someone immune to the infection that had torn apart Earth’s reality, trapped in a paradox as a young teenage girl in a post apocalyptic world, until Marlene relieved her of that pressure by giving her life meaning, by giving purpose to her immunity and bestowing an important identity upon her: the savior of the human race.

Before all that, Ellie had always been just a number. She was just an orphan kid in a sea of other faceless, nameless kids in a military boarding school, without a future or special kind of destiny in a bleak world without any real meaning. Suddenly, she was a savior for all humanity and tasked with the tremendous responsibility of staying alive. She had to contend with her life having more value than others, seeing people sacrificing themselves over and over again, for her, when she had lived as a nobody for all her life until that point when everything changed.

I can imagine that that was a lot for Ellie to deal with as a teenager, a key developmental time in her life when she is just learning who she is as a person. A lot of her identity was based on not having an identity. Being trained and destined to be a nameless soldier. So when that identity was called into question, when she was smacked in the face with immunity to a virus that killed her best friend and numerous people on the planet, she needed the absurdity of her existence to be reigned in by her new title of savior of the human race.

During her journey with Joel, while the player mostly experienced the story and struggle of Joel, Ellie was struggling with her own internal issues as the secondary character. She mainly dealt with the loss of her innocence but she also still carried within her a crippling survivor’s guilt. This is very apparent after the death of Tess. In that pivotal scene in Part 1, Tess made it abundantly clear that the only reason why she was sacrificing herself was because of Ellie’s immunity, to the point of physically grabbing Ellie by the arm and pointing to the point of infection, relegating Ellie to just her immunity. Of course it wasn’t Tess’s intention to do that, but one can only wonder how Ellie absorbed that moment, another moment that helped her in defining herself. Tess wasn’t risking her life to save Ellie the person. She sacrificed herself for the immunity, the potential cure Ellie carried within her. 

This assisted Ellie in defining herself by her immunity. Instead of thinking about herself and how she related to the world around her with all the contradictions of her childhood, and the relationships she formed with Joel and Sam, the people in that world, it was easier to just soldier through life with the sole goal of fulfilling her destiny. Saving the human race.

Then came the turning point in her life, when her identity was stripped from her by the very person she had come to trust and love the most.

In a way, Ellie had her autonomy taken from her by Joel and had to come to grips with that, the fact that Joel loved her and yet, hurt her deeply as a result of that love, without truly acknowledging it. In making this ultimate decision about her life for her, Joel triggered her survivor’s guilt and Ellie had no way of expressing it, 1. Because Joel lied to her about the situation and forced the conversation to be buried in that lie, and 2. Because even if she gathered the courage to confront him about the lie, she didn’t really have the cognitive ability at the time to express herself fully, to tell him exactly what was wrong with it. And maybe on some level, she didn’t really want to have the conversation and finally clarify the unspoken truth. If she did initiate the conversation, how could she be angry at him when his defense is that he did what he did out of love? What defense would an average teenager have against a parent making that statement in one of many common situations that could occur in normal settings?

Because of the decision that Joel made, he was able to be content with his surrogate daughter, living his best life in a way, while Ellie was devastated in the aftermath. And if he did notice her inner turmoil, he never addressed it. She was probably subtly carrying around that guilt with her for years. It might have even bothered her or made her hesitant to indulge in the many positive aspects of being alive: developing friendships, romantic relationships, normal childhood things. It wasn’t until Ellie was allowed to stew on it, contemplate everything and allow the guilt to fester within her that she was able to finally muster up the courage to have that difficult conversation with Joel.

In yet another pivotal scene, this time in Part 2, she gave him another chance to confess to what she suspected was a lie for multiple years when she was met with another trigger of her survivor’s guilt, during the reluctant excursion she embarked upon with Joel in search of strings for the guitar he made for her. In that scene, she questions him, counters his excuses and challenges him. Ellie gave Joel the chance to be honest with her. And his choice was to dig his heels in deeper, lying to her face once again. When watching Ellie’s expressions after Joel silenced her protests, so much can be seen in the way she looks at him for a moment.

She looks at him and thinks of how many things he has done to make her happy, out of love for her, and the immense contradiction she feels with those acts of love when compared to the greatest pain he inadvertently inflicted on her as well as the continuation of that pain through him perpetuating the lie. She gave him another chance and he betrayed her trust again. When Ellie looks away from Joel, her expression then reveals her innermost thoughts. Her eyes search the void between them to see that Joel will never admit to the lie and the only way for her to reinforce what she believes is the real truth is for her to seek out the answers herself. So she does.

When he did finally confess to everything, it broke her with not only how indifferent he was to it, but how he had destroyed any chance she could have of fulfilling her purpose. It possibly even reaffirmed the suspicions in the back of her mind that questioned his love for her due to how much he had hurt her without apologizing even once for it and how much he had taken from her in the process. The validity of all their past interactions were suddenly called into question as well, because although Joel did those things to make Ellie happy, every happy moment was always undercut by the tremendous amount of guilt she carried that outweighed the happier moments for her as her entire life was worthless to her, from the moment Joel removed her from that hospital.

After that revelation, her sense of self was thrown into limbo. Ellie severed her relationship with Joel and went back to Jackson with no idea of how to truly carry on with her life and live with herself after that. In order to appease herself in some way, she regained some type of control in navigating their relationship from that point on. Before, their relationship hinged entirely on how Joel wanted to interact with her, with him approaching her to progress their father-daughter relationship after he removed her agency by making choices for her. Post their argument at St. Mary’s, it’s important to note that Ellie assumed control and eliminated that progression entirely. A consolation prize, a reclamation of her agency in life. But it was never enough.

Regardless, things continued on like that for some time, but then something happened that shifted the trajectory of Joel and Ellie’s relationship. On a night when Ellie attended a party, she happened to find herself possibly feeling grateful for being alive when her longtime best friend expressed interest in her and made an advance toward her. 

After Joel intervened in a conflict between her and a dumbass bigot, she angrily went to confront him. She continued to exercise her control in their relationship by coming down hard on him. Her anger about everything was very apparent during their confrontation later that night and one can see that she still felt like her life was technically meaningless without her death for the sake of a cure for the salvation of the human race. During that scene she finally expresses exactly how she feels, what she hadn’t been able to articulate for years.

It’s important to note that before she says any of that, Joel disarms her. Joel asked her about the simplest of things, if Dina was her girlfriend. Then he placed an importance on her existence, by saying that Dina would be lucky to have her, which I believe Ellie thought about for a split second. She ruminated on her feelings, on how a potential romantic relationship with Dina made her feel happy to be alive, as it wouldn’t have been possible if she had died in the hospital. And this thought, that Joel could have been right to save her, that she could possibly agree with him, caused her survivor’s guilt to spiral and she lashed out at him with all the emotions she felt since he first agreed to smuggle her across the country years ago.

Then, in a turning point in their dynamic, Joel is finally forthright with her when he responds to her frustration by stating that he would do it all over again. As a result, for the first time ever, Ellie feels as though she can finally understand his motivations and the validity of his love for her. In his honesty, he tells her that her life does have value to him, even if she can’t see that herself. And although she will never forgive him for his transgression or fully understand it because she doesn’t see her own value as a person aside from the potential cure she carries within herself along with her immunity, she realizes that she can’t stop herself from wanting... From wanting to live, from wanting to experience the joys of life, wanting to just be human. Joel introduces a new purpose to her life, to simply exist without purpose and be herself and find value in her life as just a person living it. She can’t erase the past and change Joel’s choices that directly affected her in the end, but she can choose to try his suggestion. To live life, despite her guilt and despite how afraid she feels to do it. This late night moment of vulnerability between a father and daughter opens the door to them possibly repairing what was broken 4 years ago.

Her entire world is then shattered when Abby slams that door shut by killing Joel. Just when Ellie was setting down the path of finding the strength to move on and repair their relationship. Her survivor’s guilt was triggered and sent into overdrive by this event, because once she discovered that the people who killed Joel were ex-Fireflies, she came to the conclusion that Abby killed Joel in retaliation to him removing Ellie from the hospital and killing any hopes of a cure, along with all the Fireflies in the hospital. This essentially caused Ellie to believe that Joel was killed because of her in a roundabout way, as he would have still been alive if he hadn’t saved her, further enforcing her belief that her ultimate destiny in life was to die in that hospital. In Ellie’s mind, Joel died for a pointless reason, because she viewed herself as worthless.

Since she and Joel were the only ones who carried the secret of what really happened at St. Mary’s, there was no one else who could blame her or punish her for his death. Abby punished someone who didn’t deserve the blame and let Ellie go, leaving her to deal with the aftermath and that survivor’s guilt. In Ellie’s mind, it should have been her, but there was no way for her to have swapped herself in Joel’s place. So she punished herself in a different way. This sends her down her path of addiction to self-destruction.

Ellie had no way of punishing herself for her immunity for all those years, for surviving while others died for her. Abby provided an outlet for this desire. Ellie pursued Abby under the guise of getting justice for Joel but more can be ascertained from her constant push to find Abby, in her constantly doing things that go against her better nature, committing horrible acts and torturing people, debasing herself and pushing away those who love her or even putting them in danger while simultaneously traumatizing herself all at once. With every murder she committed, with every wound she sustained, she was punishing herself for being alive.

Each wound she suffered during that pursuit was like a high for her, an adrenaline rush. Each time she damaged her mental state even further with a new murder of one of Abby’s friends, she reinforced the belief that she deserved all of this for surviving. She deserved all the pain for being the cure, for being immune and benefiting from it while the world and everyone in it suffered. This is why Ellie can’t let go, even after her first encounter with Abby.

It was easy for Ellie to spiral in that self-destructive cycle. She punished herself for Joel’s death by pursuing Abby, which caused her closest friends to suffer because they were connected to her hunt for justice. Even when it all seemed to be over and Ellie tried to change. Tommy nearly died and wound up crippled and separated from his wife because of her and even JJ wound up without a father due to Jesse dying while helping her in her pursuit of Abby. This all contributed to her revisiting the same destructive path when Tommy accused her of not following through after all he had lost for her. Tommy started her self-punishment with that accusation. And once Ellie had the chance to think it all over, it was easy for her to return to the same bad habits. This is why she leaves and continues to pursue Abby, steeling herself against a near-fatal abdominal injury, doing whatever it takes to get to her, lying to herself this time, by telling herself all the while that it is in service of Joel. To repay his life that was taken from him. To even out the injustice.

Ellie realizes this lie when she is mere seconds away from exacting her revenge by drowning Abby in the ocean. Joel’s face flashes across her mind, of him during that night when he told her that her life had value. She realizes in that moment that killing Abby will not bring her peace, because the motivation behind the act is a lie. It will not give her life value or meaning, or purpose. Because her life already has value. Outside of a cure, outside of her immunity, outside of her saving humankind. Her life has value because of who she is, not what she can give to the world. And Ellie finally realizes that she must accept this to be whole. Killing Abby won’t help her do this...so she lets her go. She watches the boat leave as she sits in the ocean tides ebbing and flowing around her, thinking of how broken she is, how much she has lost and if she can bring herself back from the brink to find value in the meaningless existence she believed her life was for so long.

When she revisits the farm and contemplates all this while holding a guitar that she’ll never be able to play again, she recalls that memory, when Joel reminded her of her value. In that final scene, she realized that Joel was the first person in her life who didn’t see her for her immunity. Joel saw Ellie for who she was and saw value in her as a person. To such a degree that he was willing to risk all of humanity to keep her alive. She was then able to forgive him and know that he truly did love her for her, something no one else had ever done before him. And if he could love her for her, maybe she could learn to do the same.

#the last of us day #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou2 #ellie tlou #joel tlou #riley tlou #dina tlou #headcanon

[nightswithkookmin]

Hello Goldy 💜 So JK dint post for Jin and so does Tae. Both of them di t post for Jinins bday also. Whats going on here ? I dont understand if JK and Tae have been banned from posting on their boyfriends bday. As u can tell i am both Jikook and Taejin shipper. What do u think is happening or should i say not happening.

This topic...

Hold on, lemme put on my tinfoil hat:

I got nothing. Lol.

Secondly, aaaaah Tae Kook!

Lol. Tae Kook. The evil power duo of BTS, my favorite rageddy boogie men of ship street Avenue, PPP- pathological party poopers of Bangtan fantasyland- stomping on shipper's parade, putting commas in people's hopes and dreams. Y'all didn't get the memo? When we said y'all be snatching hearts, this is not the kind of horror heart snatching we was talking about! Y'all ratchet for this shit. Lol.

Someone give them the memo. Atatatatatat.

Lmho.

I mean for Jk, I've already speculated a few times- several times now, how I feel he's kind off been on a self assertive journey since late 2019 and coupled with a lot of things I felt was happening with him, Jimin and group around that period, that him not posting for the members' birthdays sort of make a lot of sense to me.

I've also speculated on what I felt was going on with Kook, RM and Tae around JM's birthday this year, so Tae not posting for JM also sort of made sense to me?

Tae missed Jimin's birthday as well. It would have been 'problematic' in today's social media climate if he posted for any body else within the group after that. It's the same with JK when he missed Jin's birthday last December- had he posted for anybody else, I'm afraid several trucks would have been sent to BigHit HQ demanding his head on a spike. Chileee.

Can't blame them though. Even the members themselves, during 2017 Festa, descended hard on JK for gifting a present to Jimin and not the others- they pay attention to these things, you know? Jin in his recent VLive had said he had been up waiting for texts and all- or something along the lines of that, and I'm pretty sure he pays attention to who posts what on their Twitter account on his birthday. Well we know Jimin does this too. Lol.

You don't need to be a mad scientist to figure out that one member posting for another and not the others would make the members feel some kind of way about it even if they don't say it out loud.

Frankly, like I said, I feel they set themselves up for this shit- miss one, miss them all or risk solo stans coming for your ass. That's how we roll on these fang gang streets. Lol.

But for Kook, I sort of felt his was deliberate- may be an impulsive decision at the time, but deliberate nonetheless. I mean he had all 24 hours post Jin's birthday to belate that shit- better late than never, but he didn't do that.

Whatever had transpired within that period- which I've speculated on in past posts, I feel that had pushed him to his breaking point and had incentivized him or propelled him to reel back, reevaluate his goals, intentions, purpose, calling- whatever you wanna call it, and eventually had embarked on a journey to reassert himself and take back control of his life all throughout 2020- until recent times...

- Y'all see Jikook's dynamics have flipped again post Jimin's birthday right? Clear your schedules. We gone talk. Soon. Muhahaha.

I don said, Jikook have/had been asserting themselves against eachother and against the group this year. And for Jk, that self assertion would come in the form of him putting up boundaries and reinforcing already existing boundaries among other things, which would in turn require him demanding and demonstrating his independence from anything and anyone he had relinquished his self autonomy to- prior to. In my opinion.

I'm gonna step on a few toes here and regurgitate, JK didn't just take a step back from his life, he took a step back from Jimin as well, in my opinion- I can literally hear temperatures rising. Chilee. Lmho.

It's easy to lose yourself in the process of loving someone. And when you love this person more than you love yourself, in the thick of love, under heavy public and peer scrutiny, where you are being told to change this and that about yourself everyday and everytime as a prerequisite for being able to love this person you want within a group; then you are bound to end up with nothing but the total eradication of who you are at your core or at least a drift away from your true self and the expressions of it... Sigh.

I mean all the, 'try not to be so possessive, he's our friend too' 'operation neutralize Jikook' 'chilee, don't lean too much into him, this is an award' 'I've got Jimin, restrain Kook' 'oh I think you stared too long here' 'look away' 'you got him a present, why didn't you get us any' 'is that your heart eyes?' 'Tuck it away' 'why do you film Jimin a lot?' 'use this person, not Jimin for your GCF if you want the clicks' 'GCF in Tokyo? How about OT7 in wherever mate?' - all these little tweaks and adjustments he's had to make to his personality and his expressions of self in order to hide his relationship within the group climaxes honestly. In my opinion. And late 2019 to me was that peak for JK. Again, in my opinion.

Changes like these don't come drastically. They creep up on you. Its slippery slope till you're caught knee deep in the mud. For instance, notice when the members complained about him not caring for them because he hadn't presented them with gifts like he did Jimin, he had agreed immediately to give them presents in the future in order to not answer to their question of why he had chosen to give just Jimin a present. That compromise to me was one of the early signs of him losing his authenticity. In my opinion.

Jimin and the members were quick to point out that he didn't have to do that because giving and gifting were not obligations and honestly they were right. He doesn't have to do things if he doesn't want to.

That's the paradox of Jungkook. He does the things he wants to do without shame and he is fearless and unapologetic about it. But you see, he is also often very passive when it comes to the things he doesn't want to do and would hesitate in insisting on his boundaries until he is pushed to his limits- from my observation of his interactions with the members and I think Suga and RM have talked about this too.

A classic example of this is his conversation with Jimin about their friendship- when Jimin said they were in between love and friends. His hesitation was a sign he was uncomfortable with that description but he didn't assert himself over it.

Another example would be Jimin saying during their log that he was taking a liking to JK- JK didn't react as much but JM turning to ask him if he was ok with him saying things like that was a sign they had had the talk about 'boundaries.'

JK is a very assertive person but his position as the youngest within the group places a lot of restrictions on his assertiveness I feel.

We talk a lot about Jimin being Kumbaya and sacrificing a lot of their personal happiness for the good of the group- well, I've been talking. Y'all don't say shit much- fuxking lurkers 😒 y'all suck. Lol. [Delete before you post, you idiot. They don't know you like that]

Anywho, we often talk about Jimin in this context but we- by we, I mean I, don't talk enough about all the ways JK often sacrifices his authenticity for the Kumbaya of the group as well. But unlike Jimin, I feel JK does it so he can keep his glass closet- fucking whippidy whip whipped. Lol.

And it's crazy because that sacrifice he makes of his true feelings and it's expression is what often leads people to question whether he acts exclusively with JM at all.

Often I hear shippers complain about how he did this with Jimin but he did similar thing with another member- listen, if you've heard JK sigh upon seeing RM imitating his mannerisms to try to neutralize his nonverbal gestures around Jimin, you'd understand what exclusivity means for him.

And when, you think about that he had to apologize to and explain himself for choosing to wear his man's bag over another member- it's not hard to see where his authentic self began to erode- It started from the moment the apologies begun. Never apologize for who you are- class dismissed. Lol.

Then he goes on to talk about losing his passions for his GCFs, his music- this is a person everyone within the group had said is or was the most passionate member within the group... You gotta wonder where it all went wrong. Know what I mean? Come on work me. I'm writing this at 2am. Lol.

I think Jimin was right when he said giving should never be a task. You should give from your heart and from your own free will. Not for show, and certainly not to please anyone.

Wishing a member a happy birthday should never be a duty, task or obligation- especially when such moments and expressions of it has become performative over the years rather than as true expressions of the love and affections they have for eachother- ok, I'm dozing off now. Lmho.

I mean let's face it, posting on Twitter for eachother has become more of a culture and an established tradition within the group that sentimental members within the group hold on to.

The birthday twitter post has been hijacked and lowkey/highkey advances the OT7 kumbaya agenda BigHit is bent on pushing and sells the BTS bromance fantasy to us rather than an actual representation of their love for eachother. In my opinion. I could be wrong about this.

JK asserting himself would mean him choosing not to participate in expressions that to him are performative, shallow and lacks depth whatsoever.

I know what you are gonna say- but but Jimin's birthday. But but but nothing. Lol. I have said I felt he was going to post for Jimin's birthday. Dude geared up for it with the 5/8 and everything.

And given as he's been on a journey to do the things he wants to and to pursue meaning in his expressions of self within the group, I feel and I believe he believes wishing his man a happy birthday on social is meaningful- Confirmation bias this shit. Lol.

Not that the act itself is meaningful, but that the act holds meaning to Jimin. I think I've talked extensively about Jimin and how important his birthday is to him. The only reason I feel he wouldn't or didn't post for him was if Jimin had asked him not to- which I believe he did. Posting for Jimin would have been tantamount to outing their relationship gangster style. Lol.

And we all know how the members feel about that. Smirk.

So no, I don't think he's been banned from posting for his man's birthday. I think this is him deciding not to partake in performative expressions of love- perhaps because that has never been him?

I don't know for Tae's Journey. His decision not to post feels very random to me. Who knows, he and JK have been talking a lot lately it seems and getting closer post Sope. So if you ask me, this perhaps is him taking a page out of JK's self help book and pursuing that authenticity of self expressions I've talked about?

I mean he did do awesome things for Jin's birthday so I don't think we can complain much. Getting his friends to wish Jin a happy birthday certainly pulls weight over a second post on Twitter. Jin got a birthday party with the members, RM had the same.....

The thing that bothers me and my friends over here about Jikook's incident is the lack of closure after that traumatizing experience.

With the others JK didn't post for, at least we got to see him in a VLive with them interacting and just giving us moments here and there. So even if he didn't post, we know he was with them and they shared the memory of that day together- which I feel is what we shippers want. For them to show eachother love- whatever way they express it.

With Jimin- Nada. Zero. Zilch. We got nothing my guy. Jimin didn't share any insight or give any details remotely resembling closure for us. We were hoping for a bangtan bomb or Episode but nothing so far. I hate it here.

We didn't get to see JK showing the love we know he feels for Jimin- he's proven time and again he loves that man. We didn't get to see them share the memories of that day together. Not even through narration- Jimin, you sonova bish! Lol.

Would I ever move on from that incident? No.

Do I want to move on from that incident- chileee I've been trying. It would haunt me for the rest of my Jikook life. Lol. I still get get nightmares thinking about it and it's Christmas. Sigh.

I think we would have to observe rather than anticipate how they choose to express and communicate their love for one another- especially Jikook and by extension Taejin- chilee Anon, I respect your hustle. Lol.

I don't blame you though. I mean sometimes Jin be looking like he wants to gobb-ok

What was your question again? Lol. I hope I answered it. Chilee. Keep supporting Jikook.

Signed,

GOLDY

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 24

Read on AO3. Part 23 here. Part 25 here.

Summary: Remember life before you were a Resistance spy fucking her Commander? There was so much less intrigue, back then.

Words: 2500

Warnings: Handmaid AU

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Oopsie sorryyyyyy. I gotta stick to the pacing, y'all, gotta be true to who I am.

Really happy for the feedback on the last chapter, as it was entirely new for me to write a scene with like, that many people doing that many things, haha. I'm so glad it seemed to maintain some tension. I'm out here trying to grow my writing skills namsayin'.

Anyway, I love y'all so much, as usual. I am so blessed to even one or two folks give a shit about what I write, so, thank you. <3

“Little bird.”

The sound of Kylo Ren’s voice at your door jolted you awake in the mid-dawn hours of the morning. Beyond your window, the sun was just barely beginning to crack through the horizon--goldenrod rays split through puffy pink clouds, an ombre of Easter-egg color stretching like a tapestry across the sky. Silent, you rolled out of bed, hesitating. You were in your nightgown. Should you tie up your hair, put on your dress? He’d already seen you naked, it wasn’t as if--

The door opened, and you leapt back, folding your arms over your chest as blood rushed your face. Ren stood, a barrier between you and the hallway, casting a glance over you before meeting your eyes. Jaw tensing, he stepped into the room and shut the door, sucking oxygen and tranquility from the air.

“Good morning, Commander.” You took another step back, hip hitting your mattress. 

Ren’s lids fluttered in thought as he glimpsed the sunrise, then looked back to you. “My name.”

You shrugged. “Didn’t want to test you.”

“You have an interesting way of showing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your behavior last night.”

“My behavior?” Heat festered at your toes, climbing your spine. “What about your behavior? What about you will be safe?” There was more anger than you wanted to admit--more hurt than you were willing to acknowledge. “If your Wife hadn’t intervened, who knows where I’d be right now.”

Ren’s expression was as flat as ever. “Johana’s intervention would have been unnecessary if you had behaved.”

“I think you know very well by now that I’m not one to silence my criticisms of Gilead.” A tiny smirk tugged at your lips. “In fact, I seem to remember you being interested in those criticisms.”

His gaze drifted--he stared over your shoulder, into the wall. His hands tensed, curling in and out of fists. “Circumstances changed.”

You remembered how he’d appeared talking to Snoke, the man before you now incompatible with the boyish fear you’d seen flash behind your Commander’s eyes. You hated that this trembled your heart, urged you toward understanding--because you also remembered the atrocities he’d admitted to organizing, the bodies that hung from his hands. How could these two pieces of person find room in the same mind, how a demon could wrestle its way into humanity, tear it apart, make a home? Remembering Ren’s uncertain voice on the recording, though--Ben Solo’s voice--perhaps the demon needn’t have wrestled at all. Perhaps he’d been invited in.

Chewing your lip, you shrugged again. “Well, so have mine, Commander.” 

Ren frowned and stepped toward you, pulling something small and flat from his pocket. You flinched, throwing up your arms in defense--he snatched your hand, shoving the object into your open palm. Blinking, you examined it. It was a small, wooden handle, lined with steel bolsters, a fat silver button embedded in the scale. Tilting it in your grip, you spied the hidden blade and gasped, glaring at him.

“A switchblade?” You tried to wrench away, but he held you in his grasp. “What’s this for?”

Eyes darting over your face, he curled your fingers around it. “If the Council believes you to be working for the Resistance, their sympathy for your possible pregnancy will disappear. They will do whatever is needed to get the information they want.” He released you, nodded toward the knife. “If they attempt to capture you.”

For a moment, you were speechless, focus switching between him and the weapon. There was no way he was intending you fight anyone with such a tiny blade.

“Are you telling me to kill myself if they try to capture me?” You snorted. “Can’t you at least give me a gun?”

“Your skill with a pistol leaves much to be desired.” His tone was almost tender--you would’ve thought he was teasing you if he hadn’t just instructed you to slit your own throat if you were apprehended by the Eyes.

“Do you really think they’ll be coming after me so soon?” You pressed the button, and the blade shot out--you jumped. 

Ren took your hand again, folding the knife back into a locked position and flipping the safety, then returned his attention to you. “I’d prefer to be prepared for anything, after your performance last night.”

You sighed, tugging your arm away. “Fine. But I’m not… I’m not doing that. I hope you know that.”

“Do what you wish with it.” He turned and opened the door. His face was stone. “But you have it.”

Wiggling it in your fingers, you nodded. “I have it.”

His gaze flitted over your figure a final time, and he left, shutting the door behind him. 

The rest of your morning was, thankfully, far less eventful than your Commander suggesting you create a suicide pact with yourself. As you prepared for your walk, however, the feeling of looming dread grew heavier and heavier over your shoulders. Armitage could have made an educated guess regarding your relationship with Ren--it didn’t necessarily had to have come from a reliable source. But the idea that it was even possible, that Ofarmitage could’ve sold you out to her own illicit affair swept you in a tide of nausea. You’d have to bring it up with her. For both of your sakes.

Before you left your room, you considered the switchblade. It was thin, discreet enough that it would fit up your sleeve, but to take it seemed like you’d be agreeing with Ren--that, yes, your life was in danger, that you needed an escape plan. Yet, it was his way of giving you a choice. Of protecting you. You shoved it up your sleeve and left the house. 

Despite the continued soreness at your backside, you were able to walk normally--another fact you could be thankful for. You trudged out past the front lawn and through the front gate, noticing Ren’s car had disappeared for the day. The knife in your sleeve had already made itself at home; after only a few minutes, you barely remembered it.

You met Ofarmitage at the sidewalk, seeking out some evidence of betrayal in her demeanor, but found none. She appeared as standoffish as ever. 

“Blessed be the fruit,” you said. 

“May the Lord open.”

You sidled up next to her, scanning her, willing yourself to see into her mind. There was no good time to confront her, really. 

“What’s your relationship with Armitage like?” You kept your back straight, your eyes forward.

“Why do you ask?” No sound of tremor in her voice.

“I just…” There was some honesty in the question, despite the intention. “I wonder what he does to make you feel that he loves you.” 

Ofarmitage was silent, for a moment. No change in the shuffle of her shoes. “It’s… small stuff,” she said. “He’ll leave me things. A cube of sugar. A flower. A quarter--you know, from before.” Another pause. “He’ll make me laugh. On purpose.” A soft sigh escaped her. “He’ll make sure my uniform is straight before I leave the house.”

You swallowed. The admission brought a strange mixture of sickness and envy and pity to your chest. To imagine the awful weasel you’d met last night doing such things seemed unbelievable--and to recognize how grateful she was for such tiny concessions was crushing. And still, a whiny little voice in the back of your head bemoaned how the only things your Commander had left you were a switchblade and beltburn. 

“Knowing that he does all of that for you,” you said, “what do you do for him?”

The question brought silence crashing between you, a silence that hovered and clung to the air as you approached the Guardian checkpoint. You handed over your passes, and as the men verified them, you glimpsed her from beyond your wings. Her face was tight, chin jutting in strain. The Guardians returned your passes and you continued forward, toward the market. She still didn’t respond.

“I was just curious if--”

“Yes,” she said, “I told him. I told him, okay?”

“I knew it.” Heat--relief, rage--flooded you. “Why, though? I don’t get it.”

She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I think you’re right that I wouldn’t.” If she’d told her Commander about your relationship, had she told him about the Resistance, too? “What did you tell him? Did you tell him everything?”

“No!” Her hands, still holding her bag, twisted together. “I’m not trying to… I know I want to stay, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to the Resistance.”

You balked. “So, just me, then?”

“I didn’t...” She paused, lowering her voice. “I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted…”

“You wanted what?” You wanted to shake her. “You knew what could happen if you told anybody!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say,” she mumbled. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand.”

You sneered. “Try me.”

“He said…” Her voice was tiny, tight. “If… If your Commander was out of the way, then he could…” You heard the distant swallow of her distress. “He’d change things.”

“Oh.” 

Ren’s words rumbled through your mind: My design is to perfect it. Perhaps every Commander was using their Handmaids in a vie for power--but Ren hadn’t pried you for information. He hadn’t even cared you were part of the Resistance. You weren’t sure who you pitied more: Ofarmitage, for capitulating--or yourself, for the creeping sense of superiority that your Commander hadn’t ever asked it of you. As if this fact made his feelings more legitimate, more real.

What did their basis in reality matter? To live them out would be to sacrifice your autonomy--to sell your soul to a monster.

“So you seriously didn’t think about what might happen to me?” You were almost at the market--you lowered your voice. “If my Commander were implicated in an illegal relationship with me?”

Ofarmitage was silent until you approached the doors. “No, you’re right,” she said. “I did think about it.” She said nothing else, and disappeared into the store.

You stood, paralyzed, for a moment. It was becoming apparent to you that love and exploitation were synonymous in Gilead. Even if there was something genuine between Ofarmitage and her Commander, it was impossible for him, in his role, to fail to abuse it. Ren had said it himself--he wanted to possess you utterly, and he planned to make you complicit in that. If only there wasn’t a part of you that was willing to risk it.

The walk back from the market was spent in silence--you were unable to decide if you felt fury or pity for her. It might have been easier to be angry if you weren’t so close to understanding how she’d made her choice. 

As you arrived at the Guardian checkpoint, you produced your passes again, taking the opportunity to check in with her. She met your eyes for a flicker of a second before staring into her feet. Pulling your lips over your teeth, you went to take your pass from the Guardian, only to find it was still in his hand.

“Ofkylo?” he said, scrutinizing it.

You’d forgotten about your knife. It suddenly felt like a boulder in your sleeve. “Yes…”

He glanced at his partner, mumbling something to him, fire coursing through your veins. Adrenaline hijacked your brain, telling you now that they’d found you, they were going to stuff you in a van, tie you up and torment you, that the only option was throw it all to the ground--forget Ofarmitage, forget the Resistance, forget Ren--and fucking run.

The other Guardian studied your pass, glancing between it and you, for some reason. Your photo wasn’t on it. “No. It’s fine,” he said to his partner. He handed it back to you. “Get moving.”

You nodded, hoping that the level of sweat at your forehead could be attributed to the weather. Turning your face to the ground, you shuffled forward, heart beating in your throat. Fury--it was definitely fury that you felt for Ofarmitage in this moment, and once you’d obtained a comfortable distance from the Guardians, it tore out of you.

“Did you see that?” you hissed. “I thought they were about to kill me.”

She shrugged. “Well, they didn’t, did they?” 

“But do you realize what could’ve happened if the circumstances were different?” you asked. “I almost just ran!”

“But you didn’t.”

“How can you be so… so blase about this?” you growled. “Don’t you see what you’ve done?”

“I know what I did, Ofkylo--”

You seized her, spinning her toward you. “You gambled with my life!”

Her eyes, shiny with tears, struck you through. “You did!” she said. “You gambled with it. All I did was tell the only person who has ever made me feel like a human in three years!” She shook her head, shoving you off of her. “I’m sorry for what I did. I am. But I didn’t… I didn’t do it so your life would be in danger, or whatever.” She swallowed. “I did it so mine would be worth living.”

The anger in your chest fizzled out, then, like you’d been doused with ice water. You drew in a slow breath through your nose, gazing at her before turning back to the sidewalk. You didn’t forgive her, no. But that feeling--desperation, emptiness, a longing to be anything other than nothing--you understood that. You understood her.  

And she was right, at least. Nothing had happened. You’d made it back to the home. At the gate, you nodded a silent goodbye to her, allowing yourself to relax, and turned into the front yard.

Ren’s black Audi had returned to the driveway. And another car was there, too--also black--a stretch Cadillac limo, the windows completely opaque. You slowed your step, fists tight around your bag, gazing at it with suspicion. The metronome of your pulse quickened with every new thrum of your heart as you crept forward, shoulders hunching--and once you approached the back door, it flew open. You screamed, hopping back. 

“Oh, there’s no need to scream.” 

That voice. Fear numbed you, plunged you into a breathless, lightless tunnel.

Commander Snoke stepped out of the vehicle, gesturing toward the door. “Come and sit, won’t you?” He glimpsed the bag in your hands. “Just leave that there for the Marthas.”

Thousands of words reeled through your head, absolutely none of them helpful. Frost coated your insides, emptied you of warmth. This was it. Ren was right. He was going to take you and torture you. You thought of the blade in your sleeve--no. You wouldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway.

Nodding, you stuck out your chin. “I’m glad you asked.” 

You abandoned the bag in the grass, keeping his gaze as you strode toward him, holding it with triumph until you bowed into the vehicle. Blood fled your face. Seated across from you, crammed against the partition, was your Commander, Kylo Ren. His eyes met yours, his expression as vacant as you felt. Watching him, your chest fell with a trembling, terrified breath. Then Snoke eased himself into the car, and shut the door. 

“Now that we’re all together,” he said, “let’s chat.”

#kylo ren smut #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo trash #little bird #handmaid au #fanfiction problems #nerd whinings #whoops i'm sorryyyyyyyy I love a little chekov though y'know

[per-ineptia-ad-astra]

fixing The Menagerie

The circumstances behind The Menagerie pose an interesting writing problem: how do you take an already shot, totally completed episode for an earlier version of a TV show that differs considerably from the version that actually made it to air, and turn it into an episode that you can use now, as part of that later version, in a way that actually makes sense for your audience? That would be challenging enough without the additional problems that 1.) you can't reshoot any of the original episode because you no longer have access to the sets, costumes, most of the cast, etc., and 2.) the whole reason you're doing this in the first place is because you can't get a completely new episode out in time to meet your air date, so whatever your framing device is it has to be something that can be shot and finished very quickly--and cheaply, because at absolutely no point in the making of this show has there been spare money to throw around.

When I recapped The Menagerie (eons ago, it now seems) I said in the conclusion to the second part that I thought the framing device used wasn't as effective as it could have been. So, I figured I’d put my money where my mouth was and see if I could come up with another one. Before I start I want to put out the same disclaimer I used for the Return of the Archons post: I am not a professional TV writer (or a professional anything) and I intend this only as a fun exercise and not an angry and serious screed about the writing quality of TOS, which I do very much love for being what it is. I can only offer what, in my opinion, would make a more enjoyable episode, which may not necessarily be what you would find to be a more enjoyable episode. And if you already greatly enjoy The Menagerie as it is, you probably won’t want to read this.

For the purposes of this post, I’m going to take The Cage itself as written. It has its own problems, and that might be worth its own post at some point, but I’m not going to take it on here. We’ll assume The Cage exists exactly as it was produced, and the problem now is entirely focused on how to turn it into an episode—or two—of TOS.

(And, just to get it out of the way: I’m not going to talk about how either The Cage or The Menagerie play into Discovery, AOS, or the rest of Star Trek in general. It’s obviously a very important episode backstory-wise, but for this, right now, I’m just going talk about it purely as a TOS episode.)

So, with that out of the way, let’s talk about The Menagerie for a moment. What’s wrong with it?

Well, the framing device could certainly have been worse. It’s not terrible. Hell, Part I even won a Hugo, so, guess I’m up against the Hugo committee on this one. But, there are a number of things that I find awkward about it.

In a general sense, there’s the way that, once the flashbacks start, the story is attempting to maintain two separate threads of tension: the flashback story, with the tension being on what’s going to happen to Pike, and the present-day story, with the tension being on what Spock is doing, why he’s doing it, and whether he’s going to wind up getting the death penalty for it. This second thread starts out well—by this point in TOS, we’ve gotten to know Spock well enough to know how out of character all this is for him, which makes the mystery quite gripping. However, once the flashback starts, the story struggles to maintain the tension of this second thread. The attempt to keep the present-day story as tense as the past story only results in breaks away from the action for scenes in the courtroom where something or someone stops Spock from showing the footage, which never results in anything because by the next commercial break they’re back at it. Most of these interruptions are either arbitrary (the screen goes off for no reason and then comes on again for no reason; fake!Mendez randomly decides he’s had enough and tries to stop things) or just not that interesting (Pike fell asleep), and with each one it only becomes more obvious that the only real purpose they’re serving is to pad out the framing story.

The resolution of the present-day story is also rather unsatisfying for a lot of reasons. After so much tension built up about what’s going on and why Spock is acting this way and is his life on the line and is Kirk’s career on the line and how’s he going to get out of this...it turns out that Mendez has been fake this whole time, so nothing he said or did since Kirk left the Starbase matters at all; Starfleet casually waves the whole thing aside with no repercussions, making all the build-up about Spock risking the only death penalty remaining in the Federation mean nothing whatsoever in the end; and we never really get a satisfactory answer as to why Spock insisted on carrying out his court martial the way he did. Sure, eventually the Keeper says the whole court martial was basically staged to stall Kirk so he wouldn’t focus on getting control of his ship back, but not only does that raise further questions—if Mendez was only ever an illusion sent by the Talosians, why did he try to stop the court martial several times? Why did the Talosians turn off the footage at a crucial point, and why did it come on again?--there’s also no reason given why Spock couldn’t just recount what happened himself, which could have taken up enough time if he was careful enough about it, instead of needing the Talosians to broadcast a video version of the events.

There’s also the simple fact that Pike’s ending is itself rather dubious. I suppose this one comes down to a difference of opinion between me and Gene Roddenberry (one of many) since both The Cage and The Menagerie end with a character going to permanently stay with the Talosians, with no concern at all expressed about the fact that the Talosians are cruel, torture-happy, and frankly insufferable wannabe-slavemasters who see humans as nothing more than brute animals to be caged, bred and make to work. I said I wasn’t going to tackle The Cage here so I won’t go off about its ending, no matter how much it pisses me off. But The Menagerie is also at fault here, because it needlessly repeats the exact same problem (with a bit less sexism, but still). The ending of The Menagerie gives us no sign that the Talosians have reformed in any way, and no explanation as to why they suddenly care so much about Pike to go to all this trouble for him. We’re just expected to believe that Pike’s gonna go have a nice happy illusion-life with them even though the last time we saw them they were trying to breed a race of human slaves. Really, Gene? Really?

On that note, the treatment of disability in both The Cage and The Menagerie bothers me a great deal. The effect of Pike becoming disabled is to essentially strip him of all his autonomy. I mean no disrespect to Sean Kenney here, but if they’d replaced him with a mannequin it wouldn’t have made any difference at all to the episode, because in The Menagerie Pike is not a character, he’s a prop. We’re assured repeatedly that Pike thinks and feels as much as he ever did, but we have to be told that by other characters because the episode certainly never takes any opportunity to let us in on any of it. Here’s the sum total of what we know Pike thinks about the events of The Menagerie:

1. He doesn’t want to visit with Kirk and McCoy at the beginning of the episode but allows Spock to stay.

2. He tells Spock “no” when Spock tells him his plan.

3. He keeps repeating “no” the rest of that day, which everyone is confused by but no one makes any effort to understand.

4. He falls asleep at one point.

5. He votes for a guilty verdict for Spock during the court martial, when asked.

6. He says “yes” when asked if he wants to go live with the Talosians.

Pike is treated with sympathy and the respect due to his rank and history, but mostly he’s an object of pity. We’re told he can move his chair himself, but he appears to be confined to one small hospital room that’s not even set up for his needs, and he spends the entire episode being moved around by other people. Everyone talks about how bad his situation is, but only Spock attempts to do anything to improve it—and he does so knowing that Pike doesn’t want him to do it. When Pike tells him “No,” Spock doesn’t ask any questions, he doesn’t try to find out what part of this whole thing Pike is objecting to, he just overrides Pike’s objection on the assumption that Pike is only concerned about Spock doing something so very illegal, a concern he pretty much disregards. He turns out to be right—as far as we can tell—but for all the information Spock has at the time, Pike might have been saying, “No, I don’t want to live with the Talosians.”

It doesn’t need to be that way. Pike’s condition is certainly very severe, but as I mentioned in the recap, there are plenty of other things that could have been done for him, or at least attempted. And even if none of those were done, there are other ways that the episode could have developed his character, or at least treated him like a character. Spock’s discussion at the beginning of the episode could have been a mind meld that allowed us to hear Pike’s thoughts on the matter. Spock could have heard his objections and addressed them, and he and Pike could have come to come to an agreement and actually become co-conspirators instead of Pike spending the entire episode as a helpless hostage to Spock’s plan. We could have gotten a scene of Pike and McCoy interacting after Spock tells McCoy to look after Pike—McCoy’s not only highly suspicious at that point and unlikely to be greatly put off by Spock's order to not ask Pike any questions, he’s also the one who gives a whole speech about how cruel it is that Pike “can’t reach out, and no one can reach in”--so give us a scene where he does reach out! We could have had a scene of Kirk talking with Pike—he’s certainly got plenty to ask the man about, both in general and in regard to the current situation. All he has to do is put a little extra work into how to frame his questions. The Talosians could have delivered a message from Pike at the end, or one of them could have astral-projected in earlier to have a telepathic exchange with him. We could have seen Pike express himself by moving his chair, turning towards or away people when they talk to him, interjecting a “yes” or “no” into a conversation instead of only replying when asked something, or repeating a response incessantly to show that he’s emphatic about something. (Yeah, we kinda get the latter when he’s saying “no” over and over early in the episode, but that’s only treated as a “what could he possibly be trying to communicate??? oh, if only we knew!” moment.) There were so many ways Pike could have been treated as a character, as a person, instead of a plot element who exists to be pushed around in his chair and have speeches made about how tragic his situation is.

Both The Cage and The Menagerie end with a character who is disabled choosing to spend the rest of their lives isolated from the entire rest of humanity on a barren planet inhabited by jackass aliens because, as everyone around them nods and solemnly agrees, that’s a better fate for them than living among human society. To be clear, it’s not Pike and Vina seeking solutions to their problems that I object to. If Vina wants to be represented by what is essentially an avatar of her own choosing, or if Pike feels that an illusory world offers better quality of life for him, that’s entirely their right. But when life with the Talosians is set up as a situation so horrible that we see four characters literally willing to die rather than remain on Talos 4, and then have two disabled characters say “actually it’s better this way if I stay here,” you kind of wind up with a message that looks a lot like “being disabled is a fate worse than death.” I doubt that was intentional, at least not entirely, since we see other disabled characters in TOS who are treated considerably better—but there it is, all the same.

This is not to say that there’s nothing of value in The Menagerie’s framing story. The tension between Kirk wanting to trust his friend but being forced to act in authority over him because he’s undeniably done something very seriously against the rules, and he won’t tell Kirk why, is great while it lasts. Spock’s character is expanded considerably by showing us that there are some things he places above his honor and obligations as a Starfleet officer—and indeed above his own life. We see a bit of his history, a glimpse of a relationship with a former captain that he respects so much that Spock will put everything on the line to secure a better future for him; and we see how much he respects and values Kirk, that he foregoes the chance to explain himself—and thus gain an ally and aid in his cause—because to do so would put Kirk in danger as well. And we get that great little moment where Spock tells McCoy to call security on him and McCoy has absolutely no idea how to react. And we get backstory! And kind-of-continuity! Okay, it’s not much backstory, but by TOS standards it’s practically a goldmine.

I don’t want to throw all that away. But I think there must be some way to address the problems without totally losing the good parts.

It’s only fair, though, that any attempt to improve the episode should keep in mind the circumstances it was made under. I don’t know enough about budgeting and producing TV in the 1960s either generally in or in this specific case to know exactly what was available to them when it came to producing The Menagerie, so I’m just going to try to deduce roughly what we might have to work with based on what what was in the finished episodes:

Much of Part I and all of Part II take place in preexisting sets, either the Enterprise ones or the shuttlecraft interior set. The new sets include the Starbase 11 exterior—which is mostly a matte painting—Mendez’s office, Pike’s hospital room, and the Starbase computer room. The computer room is a redressed Engineering set; I suspect the hospital room is also a redressed existing set, but I don’t know for sure. It’s quite simple regardless, and is clearly mostly using existing pieces (the bed and the chair). Mendez’s office is likewise set up with pretty standard preexisting TOS set dressing pieces, with the exception of some cut-outs outside the window standing in for the Starbase exterior.

Discounting any background extras we have five new characters: Commodore Mendez, Piper, Chief Humbolt (the computer room guy), Lt. Hansen, and Pike himself. Of these, only Mendez and Pike have much significant screen time. So, we can assume that hiring an extensive guest cast is probably not on the table here.

Most of the original cast from The Cage are probably not available. Pike we know is definitely out—Jeffrey Hunter wasn’t willing to come back after The Cage failed, and probably would have been too expensive to hire for two episodes anyway. Leonard Nimoy and Majel Barrett were, obviously, still working on TOS, so presumably we could incorporate past-Spock and Number One if we really needed to. Since Malachi Throne was also on hand for The Menagerie, we could record new dialogue for the Keeper (as The Menagerie did indeed do), but presumably no new footage (Throne voiced the Keeper, but they and all the other Talosians were portrayed onscreen by female actors). I don’t know if any of the other original cast could have been gotten back, but since they weren’t, let’s assume we can’t use them.

Let’s also assume that all of the sets, costumes, makeup, etc., from The Cage are inaccessible. In reality I’m sure at least something was still kicking around in storage somewhere, or was reused for TOS, but there’s no point in trying to figure out exactly what, so for simplicity’s sake we’ll say anything we might want to use from The Cage has to be recreated from scratch, and if it can’t be then we can’t use it.

Because the entire reason this is going on in the first place is because the effects work was making TOS run behind schedule, we can’t have much in the way of effects for The Menagerie, especially post-production effects. There’s a shot of the planet Starbase 11 is on, a matte painting for the Starbase 11 exterior, a couple uses of the transporter, Pike’s chair and makeup, some shots of the Enterprise and the shuttle flying around in space, and some things being shown on screens—and I think that’s more or less about it.

So. If I was told that I had to take The Cage and wrap it up as a TOS episode with the above restrictions in mind, here’s some things I would keep in mind:

If we look at this from a starting-from-scratch perspective, it seems to me that if you have an episode that you need to incorporate into your main show that has an almost entirely different cast, and one of the characters from your original episode, who has never once been seen or even referenced in your main show, is played by an actor that you can’t get back, the simplest thing to do is to not show that character. We don’t actually need Pike himself to be onscreen for The Menagerie. That he would be at least mentioned in some capacity, sure, but we do in fact have the opportunity to avoid putting some poor dude through five hours of makeup by simply having Pike remain offscreen. We'll probably wind up putting someone else through five hours of makeup, but we'll get to that in a bit.

For me at least, if the Talosians are going to re-appear, they either need to still be villains in some sense or we need to know that they have begun to change their behavior in some way. To have them simply show up again and be treated as friendly after everything that happened in The Cage, with absolutely no acknowledgment of the fact that they did do everything they did in The Cage...it just doesn’t make sense, and it’s much too distracting for me to get past.

Although I’ve set the rule that I’m not going to change The Cage itself, The Menagerie being a sequel to those events opens up the opportunity to follow up on the ending of The Cage in a different direction. In other words, I’m going to rescue Vina, because her fate in The Cage really, really bothers me.

Insisting on the preexisting footage being literally shown as a video in-universe has always felt pointlessly awkward to me. It’s so weird that the characters have to stop and go, “Hang on, what? Where’d this come from? This can’t possibly be security footage. Why does it have different camera angles?” to forestall the exact same questions the audience were probably having at that point. And, as I said above, there’s really not a good explanation as to why the footage did have to be shown in that manner. It seems to me that it would be much simpler to have the flashback footage be just that: a flashback. A story which is being recounted, but not literally shown, in-universe. By doing so you avoid having to open up a bunch of dead-end plot threads about why the footage looks the way it does and is being shown the way it does. I think we can give the audience at least enough credit to assume they’ll understand that if a character starts recounting an event, and the scene cuts to footage of that event, that footage is a representation of what the character is saying, not literally something being shown in-universe.

I’m not going to bother with the whole “going to Talos 4 warrants the death penalty!!” thing. It doesn’t make a great deal of sense to begin with, and it never actually pays off in The Menagerie. We can manage a better source of tension than that, I think.

All of this would ultimately take my version of The Menagerie in a pretty different direction than the actual episode, I admit. It's a rather drastic change, but, if I was tasked with writing a framing story for using The Cage in TOS, here's how I'd do it:

The Enterprise is out tooling around doing their usual business when Uhura picks up a distress call from a ship stranded in space. It’s very faint, distant, and there’s something odd about it, but of course they’re gonna follow up on it because that’s how they roll. So they head off in the direction of the call, but the funny thing is that as they get closer, Uhura says that the source of the distress call appears to be moving around. They follow it, send some hails, and finally get back a scratchy, staticky response: it’s coming from a ship that’s been heavily damaged, and the crew is no longer able to steer it, so it’s drifting erratically through space. Kirk has Uhura send a hail: “We’ve received your signal. Keep broadcasting it and we’ll find you.”

They keep following the ship. It’s difficult—the call is weak, and the Enterprise has to go carefully or risk overshooting it. After they’ve been chasing it for a while, Spock points out that they should be wary of entering a nearby star system, because it contains a planet all Federation ships are warned to avoid. Kirk, of course, doesn’t want to give up on the damaged ship, but Spock steps over to his chair and quietly says, “Captain...I should warn you that it may be the lesser of two evils to abandon this ship, rather than risk going too close to Talos 4.”

Kirk, of course, is stunned to hear Spock say this, and asks what makes Talos 4 so dangerous. Spock says it would take rather a long time to explain. Kirk says that Spock almost sounds like he’s familiar with the place, and Spock replies, “More than familiar, captain. I’ve been there before.”

[dramatic sting, cut to commercial]

Since it looks like the damaged ship will take a while to track down, Kirk has McCoy, Scotty and Spock convene in a briefing room to hear Spock’s story. Spock gives a short introduction: “What I am about to tell you, gentlemen, occurred as I said thirteen years ago, when the Enterprise was under the command of Captain Christopher Pike. I’ve pulled up the log entries of Captain Pike pertaining to this time to provide his own perspective on the matter, as it was he that had the closest encounter with the Talosians. At the time, the Enterprise had only recently escaped a disastrous encounter on Rigel 7 which had resulted in the deaths of three crewmen and injuries to several more, including myself. Some of the injuries were beyond the capacity of the ship’s doctors to treat, so we were en route to the Vega colony for treatment when we began receiving a distress signal...”

Spock’s voice-over fades out over a transition to the Cage footage. We watch that--perhaps interspersed with the occasional bit of narration from Spock, or a question from Kirk or McCoy or Scotty--until about the point where the landing party encounters the fake survivors' camp and Pike is captured by the Talosians. Then Spock is suddenly interrupted by Sulu calling Kirk to the bridge. Everyone hurries up to the bridge, where Uhura reports that the distress call has suddenly disappeared. Sulu says it's not just that: somehow, he doesn't understand how or why, his sensors are suddenly showing that they're not on the same course or even in the same place that they were only moments ago. Somehow, they've wound up in the Talos star system--and they're heading directly for Talos 4.

"It is just as I feared," Spock says gravely. "This has all been a trap."

Kirk orders Sulu to change course, and he tries—but somehow the ship doesn’t divert even a little. It’s like the helm just isn’t responding. Kirk does all the usual things, telling Scotty to do something, etc, nothing’s working, and then Uhura reports that they’re receiving a hail. And it appears to be coming from Talos IV.

Naturally Kirk tells her to put it on. The voice on the other end is staticky and faint. "Greetings. Is this...the Enterprise?"

"This is the Enterprise. I'm Captain James Kirk."

Silence for a moment. Then the voice on the other end, obviously surprised, says, "Captain Kirk? Not Captain Pike?"

"Captain Pike no longer commands this vessel."

There's a long pause. "I see. We were...in error. We apologize for the deception, Captain Kirk. It was important that we bring Captain Pike to this planet, but we feared that his...past experiences here...would leave him unwilling to come close enough to hear our message.”

“That would be a most logical decision for Captain Pike, were he here,” Spock says coldly. “Considering the nature of those experiences.”

“You speak as though you are familiar with what transpired here before, then.”

“I am First Officer Spock. I was present aboard the Enterprise as Science Officer during the events thirteen years ago.”

There’s an even longer pause. When the voice returns, the signal is even more crackly than ever. “Our apologies, this communication is...difficult to maintain. We must wait to deliver the message in full until you are...closer to our planet. However...until then...you may be assured, Spock...that this time...” [pause for more crackling] “This time...the intent of the Talosians...is peaceful.”

The signal cuts out, and Uhura can’t get it back. The ship appears to still be locked on course for Talos 4. With seemingly nothing else to do for the moment but wait, everyone goes back to the briefing room, where Spock continues recounting Pike’s story.

At some point, Spock has to pause so everyone can go take a break, and everyone else files out of the room while he remains behind for a moment, staring at the computer contemplatively. Then suddenly, we hear a voice saying, “Spock--” and Spock turns around in surprise. We can’t see exactly what he’s looking at, only a soft glow at the edge of the camera, and then the scene cuts away.

Kirk’s grabbing a nap in his quarters when he’s woken by an urgent message: they’re still some way from Talos 4, but the ship appears to have stopped moving all on its own. He hurries up to the bridge, where Sulu tells him that it seems like they’re having some kind of computer error with the helm, but they can’t track it down yet. In the middle of all this, Uhura whirls around and exclaims, “Sir! Shuttle bay reports Mr. Spock has knocked out the tech on duty and is boarding one of the shuttles!” Kirk yells for security to get down there, but they are, of course, too late: Spock rigged the shuttle bay doors to open automatically and flies out before they can stop him.

Stunned and confused, Kirk orders Uhura to raise the shuttle, which she does.

“Spock, are you out of your mind?!”

“Negative, captain. My reasoning is quite sound, though I regret I cannot explain it to you just yet.”

Kirk yells for the tractor beam to grab the shuttle, but Sulu can’t get the tractor beam to respond either.

“You need not be concerned, captain. I believe it is well within Mr. Scott’s abilities to repair the computer in due time.”

“You did this to the computer?”

“It was necessary. You will find the transporter similarly incapacitated. I could not risk you coming after me, or stopping me. Not yet.”

“Spock—do you know what you’re risking by doing this? You were the one who warned me not to go near Talos 4!”

“Yes, captain. And it is because I know what the Talosians are capable of that I am doing this. Either they are telling the truth, in which case there is no danger...or they are not, in which case it is better that I alone risk doing this.” A pause. “Jim...wait 24 hours for me. If I do not contact you by then...you must leave in all haste.”

“I’m not leaving you behind!”

“You must. 24 hours.” And with that, Spock ends the call. As Uhura’s trying fruitlessly to reestablish contact with him, she suddenly looks up and says, “Captain...we’re receiving a message from...Fleet Captain Pike?”

“What?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well...put him on.”

So Uhura puts Pike on speaker, and Kirk says, “We’re, er, in the middle of a bit of a situation, sir...what can I do for you?”

“I might ask what I can do for you, captain. Mr. Spock left a message requesting that I contact you.”

Stunned pause for a moment. “He did what?” Kirk finally says.

“About an hour ago. I regret I wasn’t able to return his call earlier, but it’s the middle of the night here...Kirk, what’s this all about?”

Kirk sighs. “It’s a long story, captain, and I don’t entirely understand it myself. Uhura, patch this into the briefing room...it’ll take a while to tell.”

A little later, we see Kirk and McCoy sitting in the briefing room as Kirk finishes up explaining everything to Pike. “What do you make of that, captain?”

“I’m not sure what to make of it, Kirk. I can’t imagine why Spock would want to go to Talos 4. All Federation starships have been warned away from there ever since our encounter with them, and Spock’s well aware of that.”

“Yes...Captain, I confess I’m not familiar with the entire story of that encounter myself...Spock was telling us about it before he, er, left, but he hadn’t finished. Could you enlighten us about the rest of it? We do have your logs, of course, but you might have more information--”

“Yes, I see what you mean. I’m not sure I’ll be able to help, but I can at least tell you what I know...”

Pike continues telling the story where Spock left off. Around about the point where Pike and the others escape from the cell, there’s a call from the bridge reporting that their sensors show that the shuttle has landed on Talos 4. Frustrated, Kirk wonders once again just what Spock thinks he’s doing down there.

We then cut to a shot of what looks kind of like the barren landscape of Talos 4, only this time there seems to be a small surface settlement among the cliffs. Then we see Spock entering a small, plainly decorated room with windows looking out to the rest of the settlement. “I am here, as agreed,” he says, and then the camera turns to show us a figure wearing a robe and a hood sitting at a table in the middle of the room.

“Welcome, Mr. Spock," the figure says. "Won’t you sit down?”

Back aboard the ship, Pike finishes telling Kirk and McCoy the story.

“So...that’s all of it?” Kirk says.

“Yes. We left Talos 4 and never looked back. Never heard anything from the Talosians, either, but Starfleet marked the place as too dangerous to visit just in case.”

“Poor Vina,” McCoy murmurs.

Pike sighs. “Leaving her there is one my greatest regrets. She seemed determined to stay, but...Even put in a request to go back, once, but Starfleet wouldn’t allow it. Too risky. I often wonder what happened to her. If she was really happy with them after all. But, as you may have gathered, Kirk, none of this explains just what the devil Spock thinks he’s doing--”

He’s interrupted by a call from Uhura: “Captain—message coming from Mr. Spock!”

“Put him on! Spock, what’s going on? Are you alright?”

“Quite well, captain. Has Captain Pike contacted the ship yet?”

“I’m on the line right now,” Pike says. “Spock, what do you think you’re playing at?”

“Ah, captain. I have someone here who wishes to speak to you.”

We then cut back to Spock sitting at the table with the figure, who takes his communicator and says, “Hello...captain.”

Pike is too stunned to speak for a moment. “Vina...? Is that you?”

“The very same. I’ve missed you.”

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”

Between them, Spock and Vina explain just what is going on. There's been a change in Talosian society since the Enterprise left. Not all of the Talosians agreed with the plan to breed a slave race to begin with—others felt that they could, and should, attempt to reclaim the surface themselves. The incident with Captain Pike brought matters to a head, and a rebellion erupted shortly afterward. Once in power, the new leaders dedicated their efforts to repairing their ancestors’ machines and establishing a colony on the surface.

The reason the Enterprise was lured back to Talos 4 was Vina: she's had medical problems as a result of the crash and the botched surgery, and it's been getting worse for years, to the point that she likely won't live much longer if she doesn't get proper treatment. The new Talosian leaders wanted to make up for what their predecessors had done and gave her the best care they could, but simply didn't have the human medical knowledge to fix the problem. So Vina asked if they could help her get home, instead. The Talosians were concerned, however, that the Federation wouldn't believe a genuine call for help, given their history, so they hatched the plan to lure the Enterprise, and Pike with it, back to Talos 4. They've been waiting for quite a while, listening to subspace chatter, hoping the Enterprise would come near. Once it did, they put out the illusion of the damaged ship to bring the Enterprise close enough that they could maintain an illusion over the helm controls, making sure the helmsmen were not altering their course as they thought they were.

When they discovered that Pike was no longer aboard the Enterprise, they instead sent a telepathic message to Spock, hoping that his own experience with the Talosians would make him see the difference between their current society and the old one, and thus be more likely to believe them. They had to wait until the ship got close to Talos 4, because the new society of Talosians have been deliberately letting their psychic powers weaken, attempting to break the addiction to illusion that was holding them back from reclaiming the surface. They were able to keep up the illusion of the damaged ship for a while, but couldn't manage that and the illusion on the helm and extended contact with the Enterprise at the same time, making the whole thing very nearly fall apart at one point.

Kirk demands to know why Spock ran off on his own, and Spock explains that while he found the Talosians' message plausible, a risk remained that this was all an elaborate set-up. They might have been attempting another pass at the plan that failed thirteen years ago. If that was the case, Spock would be the least risky member of the crew to make contact with them, since as a non-human he wouldn't be suitable for their plans. Since he knew Kirk would never agree to that, he took the shuttle and hacked the ship's computers to ensure that they wouldn't be able to follow him, at least for a while. He now feels confident that this is not a trap, though, as the Talosians' powers have weakened enough that his own mental defenses are strong enough to mostly see through them.

So Vina accompanies Spock back to the shuttlecraft, and they fly back to the ship. Vina's taken to Sickbay while Kirk confronts Spock about stealing the shuttlecraft. Spock says he'll accept all punishment, but felt he had to do it--he saw what almost happened to Pike on Talos 4, and couldn't risk the same fate happening to Kirk. But he also felt he owed it to Pike to investigate Vina's story, and help her return if that was truly what she wanted. Kirk lets the whole matter go, because of course he does, telling Spock not to try that shit again because he can't lose his best officer and all that.

Kirk and Spock go to visit Sickbay, where McCoy reports that with proper Federation medical care Vina's prognosis is good. Kirk wants to talk to her, but McCoy tells him to wait because she's got another visitor. Kirk glances around the doorway and sees Vina sitting up in bed looking at a video monitor, from which Pike's voice is coming. Kirk smiles and says he'll come back later.

Everyone goes back to the bridge, and with the computer damage now fixed, they're preparing to leave, when Uhura reports that there's a call coming from Talos 4. Kirk has a short conversation with the Talosian on the other end, who is glad to hear that Vina will be alright. They also ask that Kirk relay a message to Pike, extending their apologies for what he went through, which Kirk assures them he will. He then adds that the Federation would likely be willing to open trade negotiations with the new Talosian government, and the Talosian says they may take them up on that. And with that, the ship flies off.

Most of this story would only require the existing Enterprise sets, and potentially some brief shots of the shuttle interior. The only new locations needed would be the Talosian settlement exterior, which could be a matte painting, and the inside of the building where Spock meets Vina, which wouldn't require much dressing. The only non-main-cast characters would be Pike, Vina, and the Talosian that contacts the Enterprise. The Talosian is a voice-only role. Pike is also a voice-only role, and would require someone who can approximate Jeffrey Hunter's voice, but it's a lot easier to find a sound-alike than someone who's a sound-alike and a look-alike--plus Pike would be thirteen years older than in The Cage, which allows some leeway. I don't know if Susan Oliver would have been willing/able to come back to play Vina, but if she wasn't, a hood, wig, careful camera shots and some old-age makeup would probably serve well enough to disguise another actress. The only special effect needed is a bit of glowiness for the Talosian that appears to Spock just out of frame.

As for the fate of Pike himself, I don't want to erase a disabled character, but I also don't really feel that Pike's appearance in The Menagerie does any justice to him as a disabled character. Did Gene always envision that kind of fate for him or did he simply seize upon it as a plot device in a desperate moment? I don't know, so in the end I decided to leave it more or less open. There would be considerable leeway for multiple options that would still allow him to serve the same role in this episode: he could be commanding another ship, he could retired and settled down somewhere, he could have suffered an accident as he did in canon and spend this entire episode talking through a voice synthesizer. Imagine whatever one feels most suitable to you.

This is only my own take on the story. I know it would have considerable repercussions to later Star Trek canon and I'm not going to make the claim that those repercussions themselves would be better than what actually happened. It's certainly a more hopeful ending than The Menagerie, on the whole, which may not be everyone's cup of tea. But it was an interesting exercise.

#trek talk #1.11 The Menagerie Part One #1.12 The Menagerie Part 2 #fix-it post #fixing The Menagerie

[takingcourage]

Miscalculations: A Witness AU

Chapter Three

Catch up here: Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two

Pairing: M!Cassian x MC

Word Count: 2,250

Series Summary: After years apart, fate brings Kellen and Cassian together a third time. Can they learn from the mistakes of the past, or are they destined to repeat them once more?

Note: Unlike previous installments, this chapter is from Kellen’s point of view. We’ll catch up with Cassian again in Chapter Four, which I plan to release on Wednesday!

Kellen navigated the streets with ease, her small purse tucked under her arm. As she bypassed the milling crowds, the heels of her boots clicked purposefully against the concrete. On any other morning, she might have been content to run her weekly errands or stop to pick up takeout, but today all she wanted was to make it back to her apartment as quickly as possible. 

Out of instinct, her free hand slipped into her jacket pocket to cradle the keychain of pepper spray. Though she’d never had to use it, she had been grateful for the slender canister more times than she could count. Just because Boston was home didn’t mean it was safe. 

She’d learned a lot with Cassian that summer. She’d learned even more since.

A chill escalated her spine as she paused at the crosswalk. The thoughts rarely plagued her waking hours, but she still had infrequent nightmares about bloody sidewalks and gleaming knives. Between the murder she’d witnessed and the restraining order she’d had to place while pregnant with Owen, she’d grown substantially more cautious. 

If the last several years had taught her anything, it was just how much of life lay outside her control. 

With a sigh, she hurried to cross the street, then entered through the front door of her building. As she waited for the elevator, she ran her thumb over the ring of the keychain. 

How could Cassian remain unchanged when her entire world had been turned on its head?

He was the same man she’d known before: Genuine. Caring. Much too attractive for comfort. Those vibrant eyes still stared back at her as though she was the most priceless thing in his world. Or, at least, they had until she’d brought up the news about Owen. 

Her throat constricted at the reminder of the pain that had been evident in his features. She hadn’t kept their son from him on purpose, but she couldn’t quite erase the sense of guilt that had come over her.  

How had everything gone so wrong three years ago? She had been so determined not to let their relationship get out of hand, and yet, theirs had been the most painful separation she’d ever gone through. From what she’d heard today, it didn’t seem that Cassian had fared much better. 

Approaching her own door, she left her jumbled thoughts in the hall behind her and withdrew the key from her purse. A smile lit her features at the reminder of what waited on the other side. 

“Welcome back!” Harika greeted with a little too much enthusiasm. Her best friend was seated on the couch, keeping careful watch over the toddler playing on the living room rug. 

“Hey,” she returned, tossing her keys into a bowl on the kitchen counter. By the time she’d removed her jacket, she felt a small hand prodding the side of her thigh.

“How’s it going, big guy?” she asked, brightening even further to find her son’s smiling face turned up toward hers. “Did you have a good morning?” 

Owen took her hand by way of response, leading her back to the rug. Kellen’s initial pleasure at the interaction was mildly dampened by the realization that the child was much more excited for her to see his tower of blocks than he was to see her. 

Two was such a fickle age. 

Nonetheless, she knelt beside him and studied the architectural marvel he’d constructed. When his work had been sufficiently praised, she turned to address the woman on the couch. “Thanks again, Harika. I owe you a bottle of something very expensive.”

“I won’t let you forget. For now, I just want to hear about your date!”

Kellen rolled her eyes skyward and resisted the urge to respond to her friend with one specific finger. “It wasn’t a date. And it was about as surreal as you’d imagine.” 

“Do you think anything will come of it?”

“I’ve got no idea. We’re meeting at the park tomorrow so he can meet Owen. I guess we’ll see where things go from there.” 

The other woman humphed. “He’s a good guy, Kellen. And you should have seen the way he talked the other night -- he’s crazy about you. Doesn’t hurt that he’s in the running for sexiest man alive.”

“Harika!” she whispered, hands covering her young son’s ears. He batted his fingers in protest, but she held firm. “Trust me, I know that more than anyone. But this can’t just be about sex anymore.” She pulled her hands back to her lap and rocked onto her heels, surveying Owen’s tower. “There’s a lot more at stake.”

Lowering to the floor next to him, she absently began assembling her own edifice of yellow blocks from the pile. For a couple of minutes, the boy was content to continue building beside her, but she caught the exact moment that a spark of mischief entered his bright green eyes. 

“Owen…” she cautioned playfully, pitch wavering as he extended a hand toward her tower. “Don’t knock over my blocks.” 

Still reaching for her blocks, he stifled giggles with his other hand as though her admonition had been some grand joke Kellen couldn’t understand. At her shocked expression, he yanked the hand back to his side before being seized with another fit of laughter. Kellen couldn’t help echoing his laughter as it continued.

They followed the same pattern a half-dozen times, but the amusement never grew old. Finally, she reached over and tapped his blocks with a single finger. When she removed the hand without causing any damage, he smacked it over himself, shrieking with delight as the top half of the tower collapsed. 

“Ugh. You guys are too cute. I’ve gotta get out of here before I get a cavity.” 

Kellen smirked at the hollow complaint. There was a reason her coworker was on the very short list of people she trusted with her son. “We know you love us, Harika.”  

“Heeka!” Owen attempted, knocking the rest of the structure into a pile. “Heeka, Heeka!”

“Auntie Heeka needs to head home now, but I’ll see you again soon. Can I get a hug before I go?”

Owen complied, earning himself an affectionate hair rumple from his babysitter. 

“Be good, Owen,” she encouraged as she gathered her jacket and purse. “And Kellen?”

She cocked a skeptical brow. 

“Please be naughty, for my sake.”

Kellen released a breath through parted teeth, shaking her head at the ridiculous suggestion. “Bye, Harika.” 

“Bye!” she chirped before heading out the front door with a wave. 

“Bye! Bye, bye, bye,” Owen parroted back, scooping the fallen blocks across the floor in wide armfuls. 

He was such a happy kid. Kellen didn’t have a lot of experience, but he was a lot more content than she remembered children being at her parents’ endless social gatherings. If nothing else, she was doing everything in her power to ensure that his childhood was happier than her own.

Maybe that means having his father in his life she mused, unable to keep herself from brushing a particularly long curl out of his eyes. He was in desperate need of his first haircut, but she'd been dragging her heels about scheduling the appointment. 

Cassian would have been such a good dad. If either of them was naturally suited to be a parent, he was by far the more likely choice. She’d had similar thoughts many times before, especially in Owen’s infancy when she’d still felt completely unqualified to have a child. Those fears of inadequacy had nagged her intermittently for the first year of her son’s life. It wasn’t until he’d started walking and showing more autonomy that she’d realized she wasn’t failing him. He was his own delightful, goofy self, and all she had to do was be there to support him. 

She was trying not to see Cassian’s return as a threat to what she’d built with Owen over the past two years. Her gut told her that she could trust him not to do anything that would hurt her son, but it was impossible to know for certain. After all, she’d trusted him not to leave her too. 

“Mama!” 

An insistent hand slapped her knee repeatedly until she lifted her eyes from the floor and gave her attention to his latest creation. 

The tower was a patternless combination of blue, green, and red, standing more than half the toddler’s height. As he beckoned her to watch, she felt her heart catch in her chest. Would having Cassian back change what she had with her son?

How could it not? She whispered, pulse racing as she watched Owen demolish the tower a second time. Owen’s going to love him. I can’t let him get attached like that until I know he’s here to stay. 

Her hand was on her back pocket before she even realized she’d moved. Feeling the firm shell of her phone case beneath the denim, she hesitated. She couldn’t cancel on him. That wasn’t fair. 

Cassian deserved to know his son. 

And Owen deserved to know his father, even if he was too young to understand his significance. 

She tapped a nail against the hard plastic, fighting with the question one final time before pulling her hand away. 

As soon as Owen was down for his nap, she made her way to the home office  set up along one wall of her living room. It was considerably less space than she’d had prior to her move, but still the best place she had to get work done. Here, with the natural light at her side and the span of industrial brick before her, numbers and logic were as natural as breathing. 

Usually. 

As her fingers flew over the keys, she did her best to put all thoughts of Cassian on the back burner. There could be no daydreams of his alluring eyes. No reminders of the electric shock that had passed between them when he’d touched her knee. No longing for his ability to make her feel more safe and valued than she had ever felt before...

“Damn it,” she breathed as she realized how far her mind had wandered. “Why did he have to come back now?” 

Going to the kitchen for something to drink, she allowed herself a moment to mull through her thoughts of him. 

Cassian was the closest she’d come to a relationship since grad school. He was certainly the closest thing she’d had in the last three years, when work and taking care of Owen had left little time for anything else. After a history of problematic men and impulsive choices, he was also the closest she’d had to someone  who was good for her. 

Or he had been before he’d left. 

But in spite of his disappearance, she'd never been able to abandon thoughts of him completely. Her sleepy brain had bewitched her into imagining his arms around her more nights than she could count, and it had been impossible not to compare all of Harika’s ill-fated setups to the near perfection she’d had during that summer. If only she’d appreciated him more while she had him. 

Kellen took a long drink of seltzer water, grateful for the burning sensation that the liquid left behind. She needed her senses to be taken up with something that wasn’t Cassian. To aid further, she skimmed through notifications on her phone. She’d deleted most of her social media accounts when she’d changed her number, but there were still emails from work and a pair of nonsense texts from Harika. 

Quickly replying to a couple of them, she forced herself back into the chair to continue her work. Engrossed in her task for the next hour, it was a welcome distraction when she heard movement from Owen’s bedroom. Even without his quiet cries, the footsteps progressing toward her would have been enough to alert her that he’d woken up.

Her son was at her side less than a minute later, clutching his blanket with one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. “Mama,” he called with a voice that was still pitifully broken from sleep.

“Sit with me, sweet boy.” Careful to avoid his toes, Kellen pushed away from the desk and helped Owen climb into her lap. He nestled close, still hot and sweaty from his nap. She kissed his disheveled curls as the sniffling subsided.

Shutting the lid on her laptop, she cast a thoughtful eye over the child in her arms. She took in every detail, from the fingers that held tightly to the collar of her shirt to the long, dark eyelashes that still glistened with the remnant of his tears. Soon, he would be fully awake and craving his independence. The reminder made her pull him just a little bit tighter to her chest.  

When Kellen looked back on the last two years, moments like these were the ones she remembered most. They were the ones she was most afraid to lose in the future. 

And as much as she had trusted Cassian in the past and wanted to believe in his pure intentions, a sliver of doubt crept in whenever she thought of tomorrow’s meeting. Even if everything went smoothly and all of her fears were in vain, one undeniable truth remained: 

Their world had just become much more complicated.

#playchoices #playchoices fanfiction #witness: a bodyguard romance #cassian keane #cassian x mc

[yeoldontknow]

Totem

Author’s Note: this story is entirely an act of fiction. it contains strong, mature themes and features subjects which may be triggering or uncomfortable to read. these themes include, but not limited to: themes of abduction, references to ptsd, extreme trauma, and paranormal activity. please take these warnings seriously and do not read if any make you uncomfortable. | this story is written as a script, rather than a traditional prose fanfiction. even though its unusual, i still hope you enjoy it <3 happy spooptober! Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (oc; female) Genre: horror; suspense; thriller; haunted house au; light romance; au Summary: What follows is an account of YouTube vloggers Euripet3s1 and theJungProject. This is a report of the last known whereabouts of Jung Hoseok. Rating: M Warning: themes of abduction/ghostly possession; references to ptsd; extreme trauma; paranormal activity; explicit language; non-explicit nudity; graphic situations Word Count: 5.5K

Towards the end of my research for my Ph.D, I became fascinated by what has recently been cited as the "second wave" of realism films in production, thanks, in part, to the advent of creative social websites like YouTube and Vimeo. The introduction of reality and scripted reality television, alongside its relatively unilateral conjunction with the internet, sparked a new direction in filmmaking that prided itself on low budgets and the autonomy of immediate authorship. 

Where Vimeo encouraged, and favoured, well produced filmmaking and art house developments from a range of semi-professionals to professionals, YouTube saw a strong dynamic shift in what eventually was defined as vlogging. Video series like Marble Hornets, Fewdio, and curiously chilling uploads by users such as EverymanHYBRID became cult canon amongst internet users. Instead of humour posts, video game plays, and make-up tutorials, users sought creative expression in 'noise aesthetics' and the horror genre. 

On April 30, 2010, YouTube user Euripet3s1 (full name: Y/F/N Y/L/N) uploaded a video entitled #184-190 to her channel of 12,413 subscribers. It would be the final upload she would make before deactivating the account three weeks later, eventually removing herself from social media altogether. The video itself is an account of her trip to England to visit fellow YouTube vlogger and boyfriend theJungProject (full name: Jung Hoseok), who was residing in the country while finishing his degree, depicted through seven pieces of footage taken from video cameras and mobile phones. 

Euripet3s1's channel was a comedy and lifestyle channel, in which she would present everyday information in a humorous way. Therefore, the unsettling events in the final video left both fans and casual viewers stunned. Avid fans of the Marble Hornets series were the first to draw attention to the video, before it went viral on hundreds of forums, including Reddit and BuzzFeed. When the users’ account was deactivated, the video was removed from the website only to resurface two months later by user TwerK (full name: Kim Taehyung). There are only two videos on TwerK's channel: #184-190 and Help Explain This. 

Help Explain This was filmed in August 2011 and is the last surviving footage of Jung Hoseok.

Numerous attempts at paranormal investigations have occurred in the last two years with no results. Psychics have been brought to every location depicted, though their efforts have been futile. The pocket watch in the film has been defined, by paranormal researcher David Kelwayne, as a totem. To quote David:

 "A totem is an item left behind by the dead which they had ascribed deep personal meaning or symbolism during their life. To come into contact with a totem is to contact the spirit attached to it, even if said contact is relatively erroneous; to become connected to the totem is to become connected with the spirit, often permanently" (Seeking Answers: Beginner's Guide To The Paranormal, 54)

This report exists only to present the video as it was found, in its untouched manner, for archival and historical purposes. The research to be found on the events, people, and locations involved has lead many in vast circles and down endless rabbit holes. It is my hope that the academic world will provide its resources for the many seeking answers about what truly happened to Jung Hoseok during that week in April. 

 ~~

Editor’s note: Heretofore, the speakers will be quoted using their first initials rather than their usernames.

#184

Duration: 1:46

[Exterior. Night-vision mid-close up of dirt path. Leaves cover the ground and crunch audibly. Feet remain in view as two persons walk the path in brisk, even steps. A low male voice is heard, his accent distinctly Korean. ]

H: Are you filming, Y/N?

[A second voice speaks, female. She is American]

Y/N: I have no idea. Your camera is weird.

H: It's no different from any American camera. It's a SONY. Has the green dot gone on?

Y/N: Well, it's different in the dark. Yeah, it has.

H: Then it's filming. Point it at your face, dummy.

[Camera is lifted and spun towards the holder's face, the night vision on the camera giving her a blue glow. She is young, no more than 24. The fringe of her hair gets caught in her eyes, trapped there by the hood of her sweater. She smiles brightly, waving at the camera momentarily.]

Y/N: And so we meet again! Today I am joined by theJungProject -

[camera pans left. A young man, also no more than 24, is walking briskly with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He squints at the light of the camera and pulls a face by sticking out his tongue]

- say hi, Hobi.

H: [nods once] Hello, Tiddy Harem.

Y/N [sighing]: Must you call them that?

H: [shaking black hair out of his eyes; he sniffs, not looking at the camera] You have thirteen thousand subscribers and 12,950 of them are men. Yeah, I'd say it's a harem.

Y/N: [snorting] I do not have thirteen thousand. And that's an insult to my fifty female subscribers.

H: You know I’m playing. [sniffs] You have fantastic tits, though.

Y/N: You’re literally disgusting. [turns camera back to her face] So, as you all remember I landed last night in Heathrow, after which I got embarrassingly drunk on incredible beer. We spent most of the day being hungover before getting on a train from - what station was it?

H: [in background] Liverpool Street.

Y/N: Right, yeah. We got a train from there to here, [pulls camera back to wave hand, denoting surrounding location] which is apparently Suffolk…specifically Sudbury. We had a grand idea to go to the Borley Rectory because I'm in England and apparently that means it's okay for Hobi to go on a midnight ghost hunt.

H: I'm not ghost hunting, I'm just…exploring.

Y/N: [faces camera; raises one eyebrow]

[Camera turns off] 

~~~

#185

Duration: 7:08

[Interior; night. Camera pans from left to right as Y/N breathes heavily. The windows of the rectory are shattered. Leaves scatter the concrete floor. What little furniture existing within the house has been tattered and worn over time, the sheen of its once extraordinary grandeur decayed with dust and time. Y/N walks to her right, into a small dining area. The camera pans over a wooden table that is badly scratched, three long distinct marks marring the mahogany. A hand comes into view, Y/N’s, as she runs her fingers over the marks. The camera pans up and to the left, showing cabinets that are missing their drawers. She leaves the room, slowly walking towards the foyer. A mirror hangs on the wall, the light reflecting off the glass into the lens. She waves.]

H: [distantly; calling] Baby, come up here.

[Y/N head turns right, facing the direction of Hoseok’s voice. The camera turns right as she walks straight back toward a carpeted staircase. Slowly, she ascends it, her footsteps quiet and muffled by both the camera and the foliage. She sniffles. As she approaches the landing, a painting of a pasture comes into view. It is crooked. When she reaches the landing, the camera moves from right to left. There are three bedrooms]

Y/N: [loud whisper] Where are you?

H: [voice from left] In here.

[Camera passes through a doorway. Long shot of Hoseok at chest of drawers to the left. There is an empty bed on the right side of the room, the mattress bare and torn. The video pixelates for approximately two seconds, correcting itself. The windows of the bedroom are in tact, though the carpet has been ripped up from the floor in a seemingly random pattern. Y/N walks to where Hoseok is standing. Atop the chest are several items: a broken hairbrush, a small empty picture frame, an empty ring box and a pocket watch. Y/N zooms in on the pocket watch. Hoseok picks it up, his grip indelicate. Y/N turns the camera, and zooms out to a medium close up of Hoseok’s face as he inspects it]

H: [whispers] This rectory had hundreds of residents before it was condemned. I wonder whose this was.

Y/N: [also in a whisper] Hobi, this place was destroyed by a fire in 1939. Isn't it weird to you that there's still…..things, objects…belongings in here? Nothing seems terribly ruined.

[Pause. Hoseok does not reply. Y/N returns the subject to the pocket watch, appeasing him by maintaining focus on the object though her discomfort is evident.] It looks really old. Can't be from any time after 1920, look at the design. Early surrealist or something.

H: [humming in interest] How do you know that?

Y/N: I’m taking art history for my electives. I’m just saying it looks like something I’ve seen.

[The camera zooms back on to the pocket watch in Hoseok’s hand. There is a patch of dirt along the rim of the cover, but an intricate design of intertwined clock hands and numbers is distinct.]

H: This is mental. You know the more you look at it, the more it resembles a kind of face. Like from a masquerade. 

[Long pause]

Y/N: I don't see it. Where are you looking? 

[Hoseok’s thumb comes into view. It presses the button on the side to open the watch. The cover pops open with a soft click, revealing an elegant Victorian clock face.]

H: Too much to ask for it to be working, isn't it. [laughs]

Y/N: Probably needs to be wound. 

[Hoseok closes the pocket watch.]

[Cut. Interior. Y/N thuds down the stairs after Hoseok, hands clasped and both laughing They come to a stop in the parlor. Hoseok inspects bookshelves, looking for something or nothing, running his fingers over the dusted wood. Y/N turns the camera away and zooms in on a picture frame. It is badly singed. The image of a woman, who looks almost sad, is barely discernible.]

Y/N: [muttering] Something about this……isn't……

[The sound of piano notes echo loudly through the room. Y/N screams loudly, swears, and is visibly shaken as she turns toward the noise. Hoseok sits at a piano by the back of the room, playing Erik Satie's "Gnossienne No. 1." He is chuckling. Y/N approaches him.]

Y/N: There's a fucking piano?

H: [plays uninterrupted] Scare you, did I? 

Y/N: Hobi, is there anything about this that's ok? You said this place was destroyed by a fire and has been abandoned. Logic this out for me: why would there be a piano in a burned down house? Wouldn't the city have this cleared out?

[Hoseok shrugs]

Y/N: I think we should go. 

H: Don't want to spend the night here? We haven't seen anything yet.

Y/N: I paid £35 for a train ticket to this hell. I'll cut my losses and say we’ve seen plenty enough, okay? 

H: [expression softening, he stops playing. The silence is deafening.] Okay, baby, we can go.

[Cut. Exterior. Y/N and Hoseok walking along a residential sidewalk. Hoseok is holding the camera this time, pointed at Y/N in a long shot. Night vision is switched off, faces now illuminated by street lamps they pass. He whistles seductively.]

H: [whispering] Don’t tell anyone until she watches this guys...but I think I’m in love with her. [He turns the camera to face him. The camera zooms out to fit his face.] I mean it. [He looks over the camera to her.] I love her.

Y/N: [distant, off camera] What are you whining about back there?

H: [laughing, he catches up with Y/N and aims the camera at her profile] Say what you said again. 

Y/N: [biting her cheek, but smiling nonetheless] I said you're a twunt.

H: Look at that! Y/N has spent 30 hours in this country and is already adopting its language. 

Y/N: Yeah, well you are. Tell the audience what you did.

H: [turns the camera to his face and holds it out. His leather jacket is unzipped, revealing A Horrors band-tee shirt] I've been a naughty boy. [His other hand reaches into his pocket. He pulls out the pocket watch] Y/N’s upset with me because I wanted a souvenir. 

Y/N: It's not yours, Hoseok.

H: [turns his face to Y/N, camera still aimed at himself. He puts the watch back in his pocket] It's technically not anyone's. Besides, this is one thing we could at least fix. 

[Camera turns off]

~~

#186

Duration: 2:01

[Interior. Hotel bedroom. Y/N sits at the desk provided, laptop open as she uploads footage from the video camera onto her computer. Her back is to the camera. The pocket watch twirls in front of the screen. Hoseok hums. The camera flips, revealing his face. It is clear he is filming on his iPhone. He starts to mouth lyrics to "Don't Stop Me Now," which is playing in the background. He flips the camera back to the watch.]

Y/N: [turns her head quickly over shoulder] Holy shit, come look at this.

[Hoseok drops the pocket watch and hoists himself off the sofa. He is wearing plaid flannel pants. He approaches the desk, leaning against the back of Y/N’s chair and extending his arm as he films.]

H: [kissing Y/N’s head off camera, voice muffled] What is it?

Y/N: You tell me. [looks back at Hoseok, anxious]

[Y/N has Final Cut open. She presses play on footage taken earlier in the evening. She has selected footage from when he ascended the stairs and entered the master bedroom. It plays without sound.]

H: What am I looking for….I don't…

Y/N: [quietly] Just wait. 

[The footage shows the camera panning through the room. As it comes to the bed, the footage warps, revealing a figure wearing black sitting on the mattress. It turns to look at the camera. It is wearing a white mask. The footage warps again. The figure is gone]

H: [reels back] What the fuck is that?! Did you put that in there?

Y/N: [turns to look at Hoseok] No. How would I do that? 

H: [words unsteady] I don't know, you're the film wizard. I still use iMovie. Maybe you have clever special effects or something. 

Y/N: I can assure you that I have no idea how to superimpose an image that clear onto digital footage. I took one semester of New Media, I'm hardly advanced.

H: How did you not see it when you were filming?

Y/N: I don't know, the camera went all pixelated when I was filming but I just thought the battery was running low or something. 

H: You better not be having me off.

Y/N: [brow furrowed, disbelieving] What does that sentence even mean? 

H: Is this punishment for taking the pocket watch?

Y/N: [pursing her lips briefly before she speaks] I'm really not that upset about the pocket watch. Why would I do that?

H: Whatever. Let's just go to bed and forget about it. I don’t want this to turn into a fight.

Y/N: Fine by me.

[Video ends] 

~~~

#187

Duration: 0:53

[Interior. Mid-Day. Close up of Y/N’s face. She stares at something out of view. Behind her, the scenery has changed. Band posters line the green wall, gig tickets and setlists framed next to them. This is what many assume is Hoseok’s bedroom.]

Y/N: [whispers] He's been like this all morning. I have no idea what the hell is going on. He was fine yesterday when we got back from Borley. Fine when we went to lunch, fine when we went to The Borderline for the Lescop gig. Now, he won't stop staring at that goddamn pocket watch. Look.

[The camera is flipped, again the film is from an iPhone. Hoseok sits shirtless on the bed, hickeys dotting his neck and collarbone, the pocket watch in his left hand. He stares almost impassively at it.]

Y/N: [loudly] Hobi.

[Hoseok does not respond]

Y/N: [louder] Hoseok, what the fuck are you doing?

[Hoseok does not respond]

Y/N: [mutters quietly] Jesus Christ.

[The camera tilts and wobbles, tipping down for a moment as Y/N bends to pick something up. A shoe is thrown in frame and lands on the bed right next to Hoseok. Hoseok lifts his head, dropping the watch. He smiles]

H: Want breakfast, baby?

Y/N: [long pause; quiet breathing] Uh huh.

[video ends]

~~~~

#188

Duration: 3:21

[Exterior. Mid-Day. Extreme long shot of Hoseok as he stands in front of a wooden sign that says Boxer's Lake. From the pockets of his leather jacket he pulls the pocket watch]

H: [looking over his shoulder; calls] You sure this is a good idea.

Y/N: [loudly; voice garbled by wind into microphone] You should have seen yourself, Hobi. It's gotta be the watch and I don’t want to go back there to return it.

[Hoseok reels back and throws the watch into the lake. He stares after it, shoulders drooped and jaw tense]

[Cut. Interior of a car. Hoseok is driving. Y/N points the camera at his face.]

Y/N: How do you feel?

H: Like my soul has been ripped from my chest.

[Pauses. Looks at Y/N]

H: [bursts into laughter] Chill out, baby. I feel fine. 

Y/N: [laughs weakly]

[Cut. Interior. Hoseok’s kitchen. Y/N films as Hoseok brews tea.]

H: You want any, love?

Y/N: Nah, water is fine.

H: [looks up at camera] Are you going to film everything? 

Y/N: We have an interested audience. Need to keep them satisfied. And besides, I’m only here for a week. I want to remember everything with you.

H: [begins to pull off shirt, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows.]

Y/N: [laughter] Don’t start with that!

H: [straightens and flattens shirt] You said satisfied! Y/N: [still laughing] Yeah, well, that’s just for me and I’d like to keep it that way.

[Hoseok bites his lip, happy, and walks to a cabinet to the left. He makes to open it, but his attention is brought to something on the counter beneath it. He pauses. His hand slowly drops from the knob of the cabinet. The colour drains from his face]

Y/N: What?

[Hoseok brings his eyes to the camera, lips parted. He is visibly disturbed. He lifts his right hand. He holds up the pocket watch. Y/N’s breath becomes heavy and labored]

H: [voice small] What the fuck.

[Camera shuts off]

~~~

#189

Duration: 8:32

[Interior. Mid-Day. Hoseok’s car, again. Y/N holds the camera as Hoseok drives, lens pointed out the windshield] 

Y/N: Slow down, Hobi.

H: [voice hollow] No. The fucking watch is ticking…and existing. How is any of what just happened possible?

Y/N: I don't know, I don't know.

H: This is fucking twisted.

Y/N: What are you going to do?

H: Leave it in a field? Pawn it off? Whatever, as long as it's far away from me.

Y/N: Why not burn it?

H: Any fire I make wouldn't get the metal hot enough.

Y/N: Just don't get reckless. [Pleading] Please, baby?

[Cut. Interior. A Pawnshop. The camera pans along a shelf. Various objects come into focus. A door opens and an older man comes into view from the back of the store. To the left of the frame, Hoseok walks over and introduces himself]

H: Hi. Uhm, I'm Hoseok. I need to sell a pocket watch?

[The store clerk looks from Hoseok to Y/N]

Clerk: Get your mate to turn the camera off and then we can do business. 

[Cut. Interior. Hoseok’s car. Y/N has rested the camera on the dashboard, pointed at the passing scenery]

H: WOOOO! £650 for a shitty old watch!!

Y/N: I think the fact that it was still working was what sold him.

H: Who knows how long it will work for. We practically robbed him.

Y/N: You practically robbed him. I almost got thrown out for having a camera.

H: Eh. He was probably drunk from boredom. I would be, too, if I had to sit in silence eight hours a day. 

[Cut. Interior. Night. Hoseok’s kitchen. Hoseok presses play on his answering machine as he takes off his coat. Y/N sits at a chair at the kitchen table and zooms in on a Sainsbury's frozen dinner.]

Y/N: Mmmmmm.

[In the background, a voice is heard on the answering machine.]

Recorded Voice: Mr. Jung. It's Geoff. You sold me a watch not two hours ago. I’d like to make it clear I don't appreciate being fucked with. [Y/N brings the camera around, landing on Hoseok who is paused at his refrigerator staring at the machine, frowning.] I get enough shit in my town, and I certainly don't need non-locals breezing through and pulling pranks. I'm giving you twenty-four hours to return the watch or my money to the store. If you don't, I'm calling the cops and we can settle this with legal action. [Machine beeps]

[Hoseok remains paused at the refrigerator - frozen. He begins to visibly tense and Y/N gets up from the kitchen table. She approaches him slowly, before Hoseok slams the refrigerator door shut and rushes into the living room]

Y/N: [shouts] Hoseok!

H: [yells] Where the fuck is it? WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT WITH ME?

[Y/N enters the living room and turns right. Hoseok is standing in front of his mantle, hitting his chest with the flat of his palms. He stares at the ceiling and screams]

H: [still yelling] YOU CAN HAVE YOUR FUCKING WATCH BACK, I DON'T WANT IT.

Y/N: [yelling over Hoseok] HOSEOK, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE.

H: [looks at Y/N] Of course there is! How else would any of this be happening? [Turns abruptly and heads down the hallway. He disappears into his room.

Y/N: Fuck’s sake. 

[Y/N follows and enters Hoseok’s room. Hoseok is pulling books out of shelves. He abandons that project and quickly goes to his bed, where he up-turns his mattress]

H: [yelling again] WHERE IS IT, HUH?

Y/N: Hoseok, calm the hell down!

[Hoseok turns and rushes past Y/N. Y/N follows]

Y/N: Hoseok, ripping up the house isn't going to solve anything!

H: It's not in my room, it's not in the kitchen. It makes itself known, right? It wants to fucking be seen. The goddamn ATTENTION WHORE.

Y/N: It's an inanimate object, Hoseok, stop!

[Hoseok stomps into the kitchen and picks up his jacket. He pauses for a moment, softening, and reaches into a pocket. He pulls out the watch]

H: [staring at the watch] Something…someone…whatever…wants me to have this. I don't. Fucking. Want it.

[**In the recorded footage, a voice is heard. It clearly says “But you took it.” Neither Y/N nor Hoseok reacts to it and neither has spoken. This voice was pointed out by YouTube user Sarkozam12**]

[camera turns off]

~~~

#190

Duration: 8:00

[Interior. Night. The couches and chairs have been removed from Hoseok’s living room. Two pillows are placed on the ground, side by side, beneath the coffee table where a ouija board as been set up. The scene is lit by numerous candles along the floor and mantle. Fingers over the microphone cause muffled noises and garbled sounds. Hoseok enters from frame right. He sits, in jeans a tee shirt, on one of the pillows. He takes a swig of cider before setting it next to him. He looks slightly above the camera.]

Y/N: [off camera] This is a terrible idea, Hobi.

H: [solemn] Is the camera set up?

Y/N: [pauses, sighs] Yeah, it's just about.done tightening the tripod.

H: Good.

[Y/N enters from the bottom of frame left. It's a long shot of the living room. Y/N sits next to Hoseok. They look at each other briefly. Hoseok draws his eyes away and onto the Oujia board. Y/N’s brow furrows, and she reaches to twine her fingers with Hoseok’s. The contact has him return his gaze to hers, smiling before he leans in and kisses her deeply. Pulling back, he kisses her knuckles three times. Hoseok’s expression hardens]

H: [quietly] I love you.

Y/N: [smiling; quietly] I’m still not used to you saying that. [pauses] I love you, too.

H: [inhaling deeply] Let's do this.

[Y/N pauses. Hoseok looks at her, concerned.]

H: Don't tell me you're quitting on this.

Y/N: [looks at the ground] Ouija boards are scary, serious shit, Hoseok. I don't think we should fuck around with this. We’ve already fucked up so much shit.

H: [shaking his head] I fucked up. And I just don’t know what other choice I have.

[Y/N pauses briefly, hesitating before leaning in to kiss him once more. They whisper to one another as they break apart, kissing for a few more seconds before separating fully. Pulling her hand from his, she sighs and places both hands on the planchette. Hoseok follows suit and does the same]

H: [uncomfortable] What do I say?

Y/N: [loudly] Is there anyone here with us?

[They remain quiet and wait. The planchette does not move.]

H: What if we contact Zozo? That's the opposite of what I want.

Y/N: [giggling, though her sense of amusement is unconvicing] Don't be stupid. 

[Both are silenced by the planchette which has started to move in swirls across the board.]

H: Is that you?

Y/N: No, I'm barely touching this.

H: [shaking his head] It's not me.

[The planchette stops on the word 'Bye']

H: [pauses] Well, that's sinister.

[The video warps into pixels and corrects itself. Three candles have been blown out. Y/N is panicked]

Y/N: What the fuck did that?

H: [loudly] What is your name?

[The planchette moves, quickly. Y/N says the letters it stops on.]

Y/N: L…A…I…R…R…E. D…D…D…E…A…T…H.

H: Lairreedddeath? The hell?

Y/N: I'm busy focusing on the part that - [The video warps. the masked figure from #186 appears behind Hoseok, getting closer after each pixel correction. A white hand with sharp nails reaches for his neck. It disappears] in the fire?

[The Marimba ringtone of an iPhone goes off]

H: Shit. That's mine.

Y/N: Leave it.

[The planchette spins out of control and falls from the table onto the floor. All the candles are blown out at the same time, though there is no wind to disrupt the atmosphere. The camera shifts to night vision. Both draw their attention to the bright light from the camera]

Y/N: Does your camera shift modes automatically?

H: No, what -

[A loud thud is heard, the sound of a door slamming open to the left, its metal knob hitting the wall. The door to what is considered a broom closet has flung open, but its interior is black and occasionally blurred by pixelated static. Y/N turns to look at the noise, but Hoseok disappears from view. We hear him scream]

Y/N: Hoseok?!? [Y/N searches frantically for where the sound is coming from. She turns her attention back to the door, eyes wide in alarm.] Hoseok? 

[Y/N gets up and approaches the closet but the door slams shut. The lights of the house come on. Y/N opens the door to the closet. It is just a closet. The tripod falls over. The screen goes blue and flashes NO BATTERY]

~~~

Given the found footage nature of the editing and the allusion by Hoseok that Y/N was proficient in film editing, at least once mentioning the capability of using special effects in post production, many of the initial viewers of #186-190 believed the story of Hoseok’s disappearance was a clever hoax. While this report remains unbiased, it is important to point out several facts. 

Firstly, it is true that Jung Hoseok went missing from his shared home April 25, 2010. The phone call received on his mobile during #190 was from his mother, mentioned in Y/F/N Y/L/N’s police report, who had not seen her son since April 11, 2010. Secondly, the pocket watch, and the clothing in which Hoseok disappeared in, have never been found. Until August 2011, the footage captured during #190 depicted the last known whereabouts of Jung Hoseok. 

When Y/N deactivated her account, #184-190 was removed from YouTube in accordance with YouTube’s privacy policies, however not before user TwerK had downloaded the video to a flash drive. In June of 2010, the video was uploaded to Kim Taehyung’s channel, with reasons citing the urgency for fans and interested parties to continue to study the video - i.e in search of clues or proof of a hoax. It is worth noting that while there is a well documented friendship and romantic relationship between Euripet3s1 and theJungProject (ie: both were subscribers to each other's channels, the earliest comments on each party's videos date back to 2008, Euripet3s1 tagged theJungProject in a video called Top 10 Films of 2009, etc) TwerK did not subscribe to either channel, nor has he confessed to knowing either personally. 

It is because of these reasons that the footage in Help Explain This is, in a word, astounding. The film itself was uploaded with a description consisting of a personal plea from Taehyung to help explain what he had caught. Once the video was live, Taehyung experienced a brief period of notoriety on the internet, while simultaneously going under fire by those close to Hoseok who called his video 'tactless and offensive.' 

It is also worth noting that Y/N has become reclusive since these events and has not been available for comment since late 2010, on advice from her therapist.

~~

Help Explain This

Duration: 4:03

[Interior. Mid-Day. Footsteps thud up the stairs of Borley Rectory. The camera is pointed at the landing, but the painting is gone. The person arrives at the landing and he speaks. He is Korean.]

T: Okay. So. Kim Taehyung here. I’m sorry in advance for any English mistakes, but a few subscribers wanted me to visit the rectory while I am here on vacation. Yes, yes, I know it's weird that my YouTube channel only has one video on it, but some of you on Reddit convinced me to make this.  Here we are [Camera pans right to left, light pours in from holes in the ceiling. The home appears to be empty.]. Exact same spot where Euripet3s1 stood. As you can see there is no painting on the wall. Ehm.

[He turns to his left and enters the bedroom, panning the camera right to left as Y/N had done. A naked figure stands in the back right corner of the bedroom, his back to the camera, facing the wall]

T: Again, the room is completely empty. The walls are badly burned. I know you all want to believe this was a hoax, but there's no way these two had the budget. You can't even get up the stairs easily without worrying about falling through.

[He turns left, zooming to an extreme long shot. The right side of the room out of frame.] 

T: This is where theJungProject found the pocket watch. No chest of drawers here. [Camera pans down, showing his feet] You can see the boards of the floor are burned. I'm too afraid to even put weight there. [He presses his foot to the floor, retracting it immediately.]

[Raising the camera, he turns the camera back to right, slightly, showing the whole of the room. The figure from the corner has turned around and is standing naked in a full body shot. The camera pixelates. The figure is now close to the lens, able to be viewed from the middle of the waist up. His mouth and eyes are wide open, but blackened as though holes. The figure is clearly Jung Hoseok.]

T: That's it, then. Sorry the video was so lame.

[He turns and leaves the room. The camera does one last pan from the landing back to the room. The foyer below is empty. The room he had just exited is empty]

Fin.

Author’s Note #2: The locations in this story - Borley Rectory, Boxer's Lake, Liverpool Street Station, Suffolk, and Sudbury - are all real places. Borley Rectory was known as 'the most haunted house in England' and it did get severely burned in 1939. There is actually a woman who haunted the building named Marie Lairre. 

#hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #kpopwonderlandtag #prettyboysnetwork #jhope x you #jhope scenario #hoseok scenario #jhope au #jhope fanfic #jhope fanfiction #hoseok au #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #jhope imagine #hoseok imagine #bts au #bts horror #bts scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts imagine #jung hoseok #horror au #tw: horror #tw: ptsd #tw: ghosts #tw: hauntings

[mostweakhamlets]

SummerOmens: Ice Cream

Written for @thetunewillcome‘s summer omens prompt list! Again, I’m doing fileflies, but the husbands make an appearance in this one. 

All of the prompts I’m filling are also on my AO3 in one work! 

--

Dagon knew that it wouldn’t be the smoothest outing of their time on Earth, but she had gotten along fairly well with Aziraphale and Crowley once they had all made peace. As much peace as they all could after thousands of years of torment on Hell’s end and one traumatizing farewell to Crowley. The traitors had promised they had no intention of harming the demons (a relief as Beelzebub now had no power over Crowley who was both physically and supernaturally intimidating to them) and were only interested in a quiet life alone--with exceptions to help Beelzebub and Dagon adjust so long as the pair played fair. There were awkward, tense dinners and afternoons in one another’s gardens before they were all comfortable enough to bury the proverbial hatchet. 

Beelzebub looked at themselves one last time in the mirror. Dagon had convinced them to wear a pair of jeans out rather than their typical full suit. It was far too hot for such an outfit, and even Dagon had toned down her usual look in favor a grey t-shirt and light trousers. 

“It’ll be good for you to get out of the house for a little bit, and the traitors promised that we’ll enjoy where they’re taking us.” 

“I don’t trust them,” Beelzebub said, looking at their floral, short-sleeved button-up. “And it’s called sloth. We’re demons. We’re supposed to embrace and enjoy doing nothing.”  

“It’s called depression, and I know you’re not enjoying laying in your own sweat and filth for hours every day. Probably. Maybe you do.” Beelzebub did like their filth, but Dagon doubted that their recent habits were motivated by enjoyment. “And I don’t trust them, either.” 

“Then why are we going?” 

“Because it’s something to do up here, and the angel wouldn’t let me say no.” 

“You’re a Lord of Hell and you couldn’t say no to a principality?” 

“I’m as much of a Lord as you are a Prince right now.” Dagon regretted snapping as soon as Beelzebub clenched their jaw and looked back to the mirror. “And he’s not just any principality. He’s immune to Hell fire and stopped Armageddon. He must have done something to not let me say no. A mind trick or something.” 

In reality, Aziraphale had just used his pushy charm and insisted again and again that she couldn’t say no, that he and Crowley would plan the trip, and how does Wednesday at noon sound to you, dear? Before Dagon knew it, she had solidified a date and time and Crowley looked amused. 

“Where are we going?” Beelzebub said. 

“Not far from here. If you’re uncomfortable, we can turn around.” 

Beelzebub nodded. “I’m uncomfortable.” 

“I meant if you’re uncomfortable once we get there.” 

“Fine.” 

                                                           ~*~

Aziraphale had rambled for a good 10 minutes about how beautiful the old quarter of the town was, how nostalgic for the 19th century he was in the middle of it, and where all the divine places to dine were. Crowley listened with a sappy expression. Beelzebub tuned him out. Dagon actually took mental notes for future reference, though she didn’t acknowledge him. 

“I hope you don’t mind walking,” Aziraphale said after finishing his one-sided discussion on the cafes. “It’s a lovely day, and I insisted on enjoying the weather.” 

“It’s fine,” Dagon said. “Beelzebub needs the exercise.” 

Beelzebub only responded with a huff. Crowley snorted and smirked until Aziraphale said, “Crowley did as well.” 

By the time they arrived to the Old Town, they had drifted back into silence. Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look and a smile and lead them into the narrow streets of shops, pubs, and cafes. 

                                                         ~*~

Beelzebub would never admit that they enjoyed looking into the windows of shops and seeing the various things on display--odd dolls, old books, and various knick-knacks selling at high-prices. 

“A lot of it is to get tourists to waste their money,” Crowley whispered to them as Aziraphale stood by street musicians, listening with a wide smile and hands clasped together. “Humans are gullible when it comes to this type of stuff.” 

Beelzebub smirked. “So, humans are taking advantage of other humans with useless shopping?”

“Sort of. But it makes the other humans happy. They sort of know they’re being taken advantage of, and they don’t mind it if they can be happy in the moment.” 

The smirk disappeared. “Oh.” 

“But it is still... pretty evil. It’s capitalism at its worst if you ask me.” 

“Did you have anything to do with it?” 

“Yup.” 

                                                          ~*~

Dagon entered a shop with Aziraphale to look at secondhand books. She hadn’t taken to leisurely reading books yet (only gossipy tabloids), but was secretly interested in looking into them. She was used to pouring over paperwork in Hell, and with her new free time, she longed for something to hold in her hands and consume for hours on end while Beelzebub slept or moped. 

“What are looking for?” Aziraphale asked. 

“A book.” 

“Well, we’ve walked into the right shop.” He laughed at his own joke, perhaps one he would have told to his own customers if he had actually enjoyed their presence. “What do you want to read about is what I’m asking.” 

“What are books about?” 

Aziraphale lifted a hand to his chest and sighed. “Anything you can imagine.”

“Then find me something about death.” 

Aziraphale’s smile became tight, but then relaxed into something a little ornery. “Luckily, humans can be just as morbid as demons. I think something historical would suit you. How do you feel about tyrannical rulers?” 

“I know most of them.” 

“Let’s see what they have, then.” 

                                                          ~*~

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s hand as they strolled down the street. “What do you say to a treat?” 

Crowley followed his gaze to an ice cream parlor a few shops down from where they currently stood. He turned around. 

“Do you two know what ice cream is?” 

Dagon and Beelzebub shook their heads. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. 

It sounded appalling to Beelzebub. Cream that had been turned to ice? They didn't like the sound of that. And what was its purpose? 

“We have to now, dear. The poor things have never had it. Think of the disservice we’d be doing to them if we didn’t--”

“We can get ice cream, angel! No one said ‘no.’“ 

Crowley turned back to the confused demons. “Do you want to try it?” 

Dagon and Beelzebub looked at each other. Beelzebub shrugged. They hadn’t been asked about they wanted to do in a long time. They were both used to following and giving orders.  

“What’s it like?” Dagon said. 

“Uh... it’s creamy and, uh, ice-y. It’s like soft, frozen, sugary milk. You can get it in different flavors.” 

“Is there a pasta flavor?” Beelzebub asked. They were only familiar with pasta. 

“No. You can usually get chocolate or vanilla. Sometimes there’s little things in it like sweets.” 

“We’ll help you decide,” Aziraphale said. 

And no one had offered to help them with anything before, so Beelzebub and Dagon stared at the angel. It was more autonomy and assistance that they had had in their entire existence because, despite willingly revolting against Heaven and their strict regiment, they had lived by rules and high expectations sculpted by fear and Her writings. 

They finally nodded together, unfamiliar with the feeling they both had in their chests and stomachs. 

Aziraphale ended up suggesting they start with vanilla, and they were handed two shallow cups with two scoops in each. They sat together at a patio table outside the shop where the sun could irritatingly beam in their eyes and the wind could whip their hair around. But as soon as they were settled and after Beelzebub fixed their hair for the third time, the wind died and clouds slid over the glaring sun. 

Dagon scooped a small bite on her spoon. Beelzebub followed suit and put it in their mouth. 

It was as Crowley had described it--soft, frozen, sugary milk. But it was lovely. It was creamy and rich and the perfect balance of sweet and bland. Beelzebub wondered what the other flavors tasted like, if they were equally sweet and had the same texture. They wondered what the cone that Aziraphale had tasted like. 

They wanted to experiment with the sweets in the little jars inside the parlor tasted like when combined with the vanilla and the other flavors. The imagined a crunch to it if they added chocolate chips or a stickiness to it if they had chocolate sauce. 

Their tongue was cold and the sugar rested on the very back of it, encouraging them to eat more to remind of the fresh flavor. Their lips were sticky, and they licked the corners of their mouth to swipe what they had missed. 

“Ow.” 

Dagon sat her spoon down and pressed her hand to her forehead. Her eyes were squeezed together in pain. Beelzebub touched her shoulder, forgetting about the frozen treat they had wanted a love affair with. 

“It’ll pass,” Crowley said, smiling as he took another spoonful. 

Beelzebub glared. They knew the whole trip was a ploy. If they could, they would have set the entire table ablaze with Hell fire. They would sent a swarm of flies out. They would have called on other demons to pull Crowley and Aziraphale down to the deepest pit they had in Hell. 

But then Dagon sat up seconds later, fine. “What was that?” 

“It’s called a brain freeze,” Aziraphale said. “It happens if you eat something too cold too fast. It’s nothing harmful. Just annoying.” 

Dagon pushed her ice cream away. “I think I’ll pass on this in the future.” 

Aziraphale’s bottom lip stuck out. “I’m so sorry, dear. We should have warned you. It took us by surprise the first time it happened to us.” 

Beelzebub made sure to take small, slow bites of their ice cream until it was gone and when they reached for Dagon’s half-melted, abandoned cup, no one said anything. 

#good omens #fileflies #fly wives cottage au #beez likes human food okay

[ashleyswrittenwords]

How to be a Queen [Part 20]

Summary: Princess Zelda is at a loss. Her handed royal responsibilities have begun to weigh heavily on her and she is eventually backed into a corner. Live a life she loathes or run away from everything she’s ever known? Navigating life is hard, and Link forces her to learn that she doesn’t have to do it alone.

Previous

Next

Part 1

How To Be A Queen

In total, it amounted to three months of attending war cabinet meetings to make my presence known.

The first month spent shadowing the men with the decorative swords before running off to my uncle’s room to make sense of their terms. At first it was intimidating, they paid their respects in short bows yet didn’t acknowledge my being for the long duration of each gathering; ranging from two hours to an entire day. It was as if they were hoping if they hadn’t looked at me, I would disappear into the background.

The room was a matter in itself. If a stranger to the castle had no prior knowledge and mistakenly walked in, its purpose would make itself known immediately. To glorify a place known as a war room would be as to what it was known as and was. It was a recessive area of the castle, tucked down underneath any luxuries I had come to know. Maids and servants were replaced with decorated officers and veterans. The doors were forbidden to remain propped open, even on the most humid of days, and nothing inside was ever to be divulged. This was the only hall of the castle untouched by renovation for it was the place where every war began, and every war ended. The war room was Hyrule’s trigger.

Walls dripped in colors of ancient Hylian war paint; red, black, and gold. Weapons of all kinds were decorated, gilded within a frame. Their owners ranged from daring knights to heroes of old. In the center was a table that spanned the length of the room with intricate carving of legends, although on top was the most important piece. It mirrored an old map on the wall, but this one had black pawns to represent all potential threats. They stood like towers against the terrain with wooden carvings to imitate cavalry and foot-soldiers. Red pawns mirrored these dolls, which stood east of the Gerudo sands.

By the month end, I had every rank of command memorized and each division under each admiral written neatly in a leather-bound book.

It took two weeks for the admirals to meet my eye. The evenings were brimming with careful studies, and once Impa returned, I stole her sleep as well to fill in the gaps of political history that were closed off to me as a child.

Three weeks of my questioning went by until they recovered from the fact that a woman was speaking; an additional week before they had the gall to answer their high princess.

The creases under my eyes were deeper and a newly returned Anju complained about the amount of stress I was putting myself under, but – goddess – the feeling of autonomy was a welcome one. As far as royal propriety went, I was free to do what I pleased and choosing to be included was one I picked easily. Though, this newfound freedom came with its own restraints – its own guilt.

Father was becoming scarcer. With the making of amends between us, he drew more distraught over Uncle Nathaniel’s decaying health. Rarely would I find him outside his bed chambers or his study. Soon, I was asked to bring food to his room, so much so that it became apart of my newfound routine. Most of the day was split between Uncle and his war cabinet. In some sense I was his liaison and he was my mentor. Though, I hoped desperately he would continue to be once he overcome this illness.

My evenings were visiting Father. Some days were better and he would change into proper clothes, others were darker and he hardly had the strength to get out of bed. The latter where I would eat supper in his room and watch over him, hoping he would finish his meal.

Tonight, I suspected, would pose to be darker.

Uncle’s cough was raspy and guttural and his nurse withdrew the spoon of stew. Once it subsided, she fluffed the pillows that propped him up to a seat and scooped a spoonful again. I thumbed the pages of my book between my fingers, distracting myself with the rough texture.

Finally fed up with the doe eyes he was giving the women, I let out a noticeable sigh. “I don’t understand it,” I said once he looked away. Truly, the nurse was beautiful and at last he has found a woman to dote on that wasn’t twenty years younger, but did this flirtation need occur with his niece present?

“Trust me, little one,” his voice was weak and didn’t carry the volume it once had, “If I knew my brother’s mysteries… well, I dare to think I would solve the secret to life itself.”

His light laugh sloped into a coughing fit.

“Dear Tressa,” he put a light hand on the nurse’s arm who smiled warmly at him. “Would you mind fetching me a bed warmer? I fear I will catch a chill.”

She set the stew on his nightstand and excused herself. I took the chance to take her seat as he looked at me with a face that seemed a decade older than when I left the castle. My heart sunk with fear for him.

“You were but a child when your mother passed, and I suspect you took notice in your father’s absence during that mourning period,” he stopped to smooth out his night shirt as if it were his formal wear, “Rhoam is an intelligent man. He holds pride in his crown, as any king of this great country should, but there is a price to pride. Gold is as beautiful as it is blinding. It will confuse you when you lose focus and drag you down. His way of closing off is a form of this.”

I sat with a strained expression that made him pressure me.

“Between your condition and, and Father’s,” irritation sank into my voice, “I feel this is my fault for leaving. Somehow… somehow a punishment of sorts.”

He watched me fold my hands over themselves, “It is not.”

Uncle Nathaniel waited until my hands stilled, “It is not because of you.”

“But-!”

“I won’t hear it,” the sternness in his voice was not what a sick man would possess, and it silenced me. “What you did with that boy was invaluable, Zelda. Did you meet people?”

“Y-yes.”

“Did you face struggles?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have fun? Find beauty in your country? Find beauty in your people?”

My smile wobbled, “Yes. I did.”

“Then your only regret should be that you hadn’t been gone longer.”

I nodded, folding my hands once more in my lap and leaving them.

We let silence fill in and he eventually sighed against his pillows, “It is more than Rhoam has done. You will find that every action in these suffocating walls have their own set of consequences. Without the right people around you-” Uncle stopped and lifted his brow at me, “The throne will pull a veil over your eyes.

“When Mariam died, it did just that. Grief subdued him and the whispers of his advisers wormed in. Fear of a calamity. Fear that he would lose not just a family, but a kingdom. With all the good intentions the priests had, they forced Rhoam to abandon values your mother upheld for him.”

I pressed him, “What do you mean?”

“He was harder on preventing Hyrule’s vulnerabilities from showing. Our pacts with neighboring regions were nullified in effort to create a semblance of self-sufficiency. With that created new problems that he didn’t acknowledge,” he hardened and swallowed dryly. I saw frustration in my uncle.

“The rural Gerudo tribes,” I said suddenly, dread burrowed into me. “Father caused the food shortages.”

My uncle’s eyes left me, but a thin smile met him, “Yes. I remember, years ago when I traveled, going to the far reaches of the desert. The people there were kind, amiable. They saved me from dehydration at a small oasis they build their villages around. I was introduced to their culture, their norms.” When he looked up, the smile gone. “Twenty years later I would be ordering the slaughter of their people.”

A moment strained and I witnessed the anger in his eyes. Slowly, it devolved into remorse and then resolve. “Zelda,” Uncle Nathaniel said, “These people are not primitive. Stereotypes be damned, every man who was there knows that.”

“I-I was under the pretense that they were fanatics, that they-”

“They are a scorned and abandoned people. Try going hungry for months on end,” he sighed, but his anger was present. “Seeing children shriveled up on the side of roads and passing mourning women. Hungry people grow desperate and whoever can bring comfort to that and create the confidence I saw on that sand…”

He grew quiet and looked on to the window where the sun was high. Somberly, he declared, “I fear such a man.”

  When the day drew to a close, I had surprisingly found Father in the parlor of his chambers. I returned his polite smile when I placed a plate of meat and vegetables before him and sat on the loveseat across from him. The hearth between us glowed warmth.

He bookmarked his novel and put it aside, “You’ve been busy today.”

“I keep myself busy,” I said, glancing up to him.

We ate in silence where he would make the occasional comment about the food and I would agree. Once we finished, I let him know about my day. It was something that I hadn’t done for years and within the last couple months has become the norm. As happy as it made me, I wished it was born of different circumstances.

Another new routine between us was reading through requests, filtered by Impa the day before. I picked them up from the cushion beside me and began reading them to my father. He sat silently, sometimes asking me to make notes on responses.

“King Dorephan has written condolences for the general and sends his prayers,” I said, going for the pencil.

“Write back saying great thanks and how we hope for the best,” he paused, “Then give kind regards for the Zoran prince and princess.”

When my writing stilled, I looked up to him. My fingers sealed the envelope with the letter inside to draw out a reply later when Impa was available. “Father,” I started, “May I ask something that is out turn?”

My father blinked in surprise but nodded. “Please do.”

“Why haven’t you seen Uncle Nathaniel?”

There was a beat of quietness that settled as he thought, “Somehow, I suspected you would eventually ask me something to that effect.” He readjusted in his seat and brought his hand to his beard. He breathed in slowly, then out like he did during stressed conferences. “I’m afraid for him.”

I tilted my head in confusion and he took notice.

“The physicians keep saying that he will be on the mend in a matter of weeks. It’s been almost four months, now,” he frowned, in his words were distress. They grew taunt. “It is startlingly similar to what they said about Mariam.”

At that, I looked away and to my skirts. “Oh.”

“I know it’s selfish. It’s just… false hopes are more difficult to lose.”

“Father,” I shook my head. “I understand how you feel, but he asks about you often.” I trailed off, trying to give voice to my feelings and shake off my old fears of overstepping. “I do love you very much and I perhaps if you saw him, it will lift your spirits as well as his.”

The lines in his face were deeper than I remember, then he laughed a laugh that reminded me much of his brother. “Will it quell your worries if I see him at noon tomorrow?”

“Enough to stop me from pestering you further,” I said, warmth growing in my chest at his smile.

“Very well then,” Father glanced at the clock. “I trust you to look over the rest of those papers there for me, Zelda. I must retreat to my bed.”

The warmth grew to the blossoming smile I tried to repress at his words. He trusted me.

“Thank you, Father.”

Promptly, I bid him goodnight and once he was in his bedroom, I took leave as well. In my head, I ran through the list of notes he had given me, nearly running into a servant in the hallway.

“Your Highness, my deepest apologies,” he said, bowing shortly.

“It’s no matter, sir,” I nodded politely.

“May I inquire if the king is in commission? Reports for him and the general have just arrived.”

“I’m afraid he has retired for the evening,” I replied lightly, “But I am working with him and his cabinet to alleviate the workload. I can take them off your hands.”

As I stacked the ribbon tied pile of letters underneath my current load, a question took hold of the tip of my tongue, “Um, sir, does there happen to be anything requested to me?”

“Nothing for Her Highness. This is mostly correspondence with the front lines,” the servant bid me a good evening and ran off with piles for the admirals. I stood there for a moment, disappointment ebbing. I carried on through the halls and heard no footsteps behind me. It wasn’t as if I should have been expecting it, though it was the first time I had someone this month. Father had been somewhat right about how false hopes hurt.

I tried pushing the plaguing thoughts away, only for him to return to them. I wasn’t foolish, I knew where my former knight attendant was. I took small notes when his unit was discussed in the war room. He couldn’t be in immediate danger and I kept reminding myself that no war had been declared.

There would be war, though. Today the Gerudo aristocracy had requested reprieve at Hyrule Castle. Rebels were launching attacks on the borders of their capital and Hylian troops were mobilizing. They were proving to be more strategic than our opponents in the Uprising, leading the war cabinet to suppose that we were in for a far longer fight than ever before.

“By the goodness of Hylia, where did that come from,” Impa said, ripping me from my worries. She stood outside my chambers and opened the door for me as I approached.

“The messengers from the desert had come in when I left Father,” I laughed, somewhat incredulous myself. “And honestly with the state Uncle Nathaniel is in, I’d like to at least go through it for him.”

Impa continued staring as we continued to the hearth of my bedroom. Pillows and cushions riddled the floor as well as a small coffee table to write on. I threw the stack on the bed and Impa pulled some of the ties to my dress so I could slip into something more suitable for the floor.

“That little maid will kill you if you’re up for long,” she chided, making me laugh once more.

“Yes, I do think she will.”

We got to work quickly, reading through and sorting the parchments from level of importance. The most important meant that they needed to be answered and delivered first; for example, Father’s letter from King Dorephan. The second level varied from requests for assets by noblemen to simple reports from officers; these didn’t need immediate response and typically waited a day on this table. The third level was littered with letters that need no answer at all yet still could yield value to Father – or more commonly now, myself. It was incredibly monotonous, but it proved to be efficient.

“Chief Gor Coron wants King Rhoam’s consideration to betroth you to his son,” Impa mumbled. “Again.”

I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, “He’s a very sweet boy, but he’s also fifteen.”

“Do you think it requires a reply from the Crown?”

“I vote for fourth pile.”

“Fourth pile it is.”

The fourth pile – the fire – was everything that His Majesty didn’t need to mind at all.

I placed a letter a lord who couldn’t gather an audience with the king into the second pile. Impa handed me the opener and announced she was going to chase down a kitchen maid for a strong pot of coffee. I had barely acknowledged her declaration by the time she had left. With the opener in one hand and the next envelope in the other, it slid across the paper cleanly. At least through this I got the pleasure of hearing the straight tearing of paper.

Absently, I wondered what time it was as I scanned the paper and stopped abruptly. The handwriting was scratchy and precise, resembling one that had been sitting under my mattress for months. My knees drew up to my chest from my relaxed seat.

General Nohansen,

In the hopes that this letter finds you well, I write to you my routine update of the state we’re in.

Currently, we’re stationed at the coordinates given by Admiral Fierlin the month prior. Gerudo Town is only ten leagues from our camp. My contacts within have alerted me that every tenth night there is some form of attack within public places on the outskirts of the city. Obviously, they are organized and deliberate. For weeks, at your request, I have pushed the Gerudo officials to request protected travel from their capital to our own…

The letter derailed into specific numbers about supplies and increasing men still arriving.

…Again, in regards of your health, we all pray to Hylia for your steady recovery. Until then, I’m at your disposal as usual.

Cpt. Forester

 I read his letter thrice before putting it down.

Mechanically, I let it fall into the second pile so that I would remember to share it with Uncle the next day. For whatever reason, it hurt worse each time I read it. I knew Elian had delivered my letter. He was at the castle last month, doubling for a messenger. Goddesses, I had spoken to him and asked if he had. Even then, my heart pleaded that he hadn’t. Surely, because Link would have written back.

Maybe… I was misled.

Impa opened the door with a maid in tow. She placed a tray of coffee on the table beside the mess of papers, poured the pot of coffee in two cups and quietly left. The older woman sighed, sitting cross legged on the pillows before taking a sit. As she did, she watched my silence to the letter sitting neatly at the top of the pile.

She swallowed the bitter liquid, “Zelda.”

My heart tried to steer my mind. “Yes?”

“You’re upset.”

I went to shake my head, “No—I.” I laughed quickly to cover my uneven breath, “I’m simply tired.”

My hands went for a new envelope and the letter opener. Impa repeated my name.

The curved blade of the opener missed the slip of the envelope, making me curse to myself until it made it in. He hadn’t even referenced me. Inelegantly, I retched it upward. The tear ended halfway down the envelope and hands stilled my own at my wrists.

“Zelda!” she said, carefully taking the letter opener from me. By then, I was reduced to shuddering gasps and spilling tears against her. “Af… after everthing-” A wail that fell to a sob escaped, “Three months of…  of nothing!”

Nothing of his condition or his whereabouts. How many letters has he bothered to send while I waiting patiently for anything from him? What has changed so drastically? I wasn’t so dull to forget that at the end of the day he had a job – we both did! Still, it didn’t stop me from thinking about him at night. It hadn’t not worried me when his commanding admiral made passing comments of bomb threats. The feelings I had thought we shared were still present and very much alive in my heart.

Then, in other bouts of his silence, it made me irrevocably angry. After all, he had left.

And, perhaps, that was it. That was all there was to it. The note he left at the inn had no remarks about wanting me to write to him. There was nothing to be said about wanting to see me again, not in the way I wanted to see him.

We sat there as she smoothed out my hair and whispered my name among shushes. It could have been hours or the entire night, but eventually I came to. Exhaustion overtook me and I slumped in my seat. Impa pulled away, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

“I know you are grieving for much right now,” she said, “but you cannot lose sight. Whatever… whatever transpired between you two – I won’t inquire.” Impa looked forlornly at me with ruby eyes, “You should understand that what happened in your reprieve from the castle mustn’t continue.”

My stomach dropped at the thought. I saw his face from the inn, one of longing and regret. The feeling of heated cheeks when he’d look at me. His smile at my silly comments. I saw my ring in his hand and the resolve in his eyes and the callous of his fingers. The tender needs of a man who could put up a stone front so convincing that you’d thing he had lived his entire life without speaking a word and break it down just as easy – just for me.

Then, I saw the letter addressed to the general.

“With your coming of age and the current state of the Crown, Zelda,” she pulled my attention again. “You should consider the possibility of assuming the role of acting Queen of Hyrule.”

I sat quietly, neither confirming or negating her. It had been a thought that seemed more imaginary than plausible, but now Impa gave it life. Six months ago, I would have laughed at the notion and chalked it up to an implausible prediction; now it felt startling.

“I have,” I sniffed, brushing my wet cheek with my nightgown sleeve. “If my country needs me, I will not run from it.”

#i think this is the earliest ive posted a chapter #htbaq #how to be a queen #loz #zelink #zelda #link #legend of zelda #fanfiction #zelink fanfiction #ashleyswrittenwords

[plush-rabbit]

Doting Over Tomura Shigaraki - Headcanons

Request: can i request tomura with a s/o thats always buying/making clothes for him, cutting his hair, doing his skincare and just caring for his appearance in general

A/N: i tried knitting once, i wasn’t good at it immediately and i gave up

-

Tomura isn’t one to care for his appearance, not because he’s lazy or unable to do something about it, but rather because he is apathetic about it. The dry skin does have it’s setbacks- itchiness, cracking skin that bleeds easily and brittle skin- but it’s nothing that he minds too much. At this point in his life, he’s used to how he appears- he doesn’t hate his appearance and he’s made peace that any product applied to him just makes him feel uncomfortable. However, when you come along, you dote over him, wanting to take care of him and make sure that he feels his best whenever possible.

You don’t try to change, but rather help him feel a bit better. You’ve dealt with your fair share of skin problems and even just having dry skin is enough for you to feel uncomfortable. You do your best to find the best creams for him, making sure to figure out what textures and scent she isn’t fond of and what ingredients he reacts negatively to. While the experience takes time away from his duties as a leader, he doesn’t mind it too much. He has you with him, sitting on his lap with your hands pressed against his face- cupping at his cheek or twirling with a piece of hair- so he’ll sit still and lean into your hands as you take care of him.

You’ve gotten into habits of knitting and sewing so when his shirt has a hole in it or his sweater sleeve, you’ll patch them up. You make sure to add a match color so nithing stick outs. It’s then that you realize he has no clothing prepared for the winter cold and that he’s left with just a thicker sweater to wear. You decide to buy yarn and stitch something for him- a sweater to keep him warm and it’s a bit oversized and a few loops out of place towards the end, but it's made with love. He’ll take it in his hands and give you a sort of wide eye look as you explain that you wanted him to have something personal. You wanted to make him gloves but you’re sure knitted gloves wouldn’t work well with a missing finger hole or two and that it sort of defeats the purpose to keep him warm.

It’s a bit of a mess when taking care of him. He’s independent and apathetic about his appearance so when you approach wanting to try to give him a semblance of love and care, he is at a loss for words. He allows you to do what you want, but he feels as if he has to repay you back in some sort of way. He’ll hold your gifts in his hands, his pinky lifted and eyes narrowed as he asks what it is that you want in return. He can’t promise he’ll get it by ethical means, but he can promise to get it. He doesn’t understand the nature of a gift, he wasn’t given gifts when he was under the care of AFO without some sort of repayment. He had to do something good to earn things so when you appear gifting him knitted clothes, he stares at them, not knowing what you want or what he did to warrant something nice. He can only nod his head and give you a rough kiss on the cheek when you tell him its gift and that you expect nothing in return.

His closet is filled with similar types of clothing so, you like to buy him outfits and at first it was more about a bit of selfishness by dressing him in things you like and changing to things that he’s more comfortable in. You buy outfits that are dark in order to keep up the villain's attire by playing around with it and gifting him turtlenecks and different types of jackets. While you wish you could play around with color for his more noticable outfits, you know that he relies on stealth for a decent part of his work. You tend to give him colors for his sleepwear or even outfits for him to relax in. It starts off with bursts of color, wanting to see which one you think he will look nice in- you end up choosing warmer tones like reds and oranges and a few cooler tones like dark and light purples and dustier types of blues. You want him to have fun and you also want him to be happy with his style and feel seen so you decide to buy more gaming related things for him. Rings with a symbol of a console attached to it or mirroring one from a game, to shirts that have a logo or even a panel from a manga or scene that he likes. You like gifting him accessories just a bit more. It’s nice to see him wear something small and be reminded that he actually enjoyed the thing rather than just stuffing it into a drawer.

For the most part, he doesn’t really touch his hair, choosing to let it grow out rather than messing with it. On the rare occasion that he does cut his hair, he does it on his own. He isn’t a fan of having other people touch him, especially with something so sharp close to him. When he does cut his hair, he’s a bit reckless with it, seeing it as a form of expression rather than wanting to make it look something proper. Music will blast from his phone speaker, drums and loud screaming that matches his mood as he stands in front of the mirror, a pair of scissors in his hand as he snips around, fluffling up the sides and twirling the ends. While he isn’t one to care for appearances, his hair is the closest that he’ll take autonomy in, wanting to decide for himself how to style it.

Touch is something that he can be rather odd with. He craves it, wants it and will press your hand close to his nody desperate to just have you touch him, but there are other days where he is repulsed by it, touch so toxic to him that it makes his throat close and acid burns his tongue. One the occasion where he does enjoy touch, and he’s too tired to cut his own hair, he’ll drag you to the bathroom. He’ll sit in the shower, the tile cold underneath him as your hands run through his hair. Shivers will run down his spine when you press your lips to the crown of his head. You’re much gentler with his hair than he is, trimming at the ends and fluffing it with your hands, asking for his advice and wanting to follow it. He doesn’t let you do any more than just trimming the ends and sections where the hair is split, but even then, he appreciates that you did it for him.

Despite being in a relationship with you, he always expects you to turn away from him, to reject his touch or to simply grow bored of him. Yet, you’re still with him, gentle and caring, pulling him close to you and washing his hair. Your nails scratch against his scalp and you make sure that no soap reaches past his eyes, your voice a low hum as you mumble a song between your lips. It’s these moments where he can just fall asleep, he’ll lean into your touch and close his eyes, teeth piercing into the insides of his cheeks, desperate to hide his growing smile when the cool water rushes down. You might push, but you care for him.

He’s told you his sob story, has mentioned how he was raised under All For One and how he was denied things until he did what he was told, but he never expected anything from it. He hadn’t realized that you would want to care for him in ways that he had never been cared for before. Your hands are gentle, pressed against his face in a soft kiss, cream thin on your hands as you rub the cooling gel against him. Your hands hold his as you clip his nails, pressing your lips to his knuckles once you’re done. You give him love, your tenderness showing through and your smile gentle as you don’t expect a thing in return, only for you to kiss at the scar under his eye and pull away with a cheeky grin.

Time and time again, he’s been under your touch, welcomed and in awe of it when you are still gentle with him as if it were the first time. You call his name, a lilt in your voice as you pull out various things from your bag, gifting him various items with a smile wide on your face. He’s kissed you before, your lips soft compared to his, sweet like honey and making his teeth ache but he never tires of it. Your touch is something new to him, something old and wanted, something so heavy and intoxicating that he’s sure you are too good to be true. Shigaraki holds you close, his eyes half-lidded as your hand combs through his hair while he lays on your chest. He can feel your heartbeat through his chest and it’s his own personal lullaby listening to the rythmic thumping of it. His face will be red when you call him pretty, your hands still on him and his name on your tongue. Hidden from your view, he’ll smile and feel tears prick at his eyes.

#bnha #bnha shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagine #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #bnha shigaraki tomura #tomura headcanons #mha shigaraki #shigaraki headcanons #can yall tell me if i already posted this #it wasn't bolded when i checked #and i cnt seem to find it #and it was defs a recent one i finished

[threewaysdivided]

I appreciate the response. Yeah, among other adjustments, had the plot been handled a little differently, I feel like Sam’s relationship with her parents could have evolved into something like that of Danny and Jazz and their parents. And don’t get me wrong; I still like Sam, too.

(In reference to this post and follow-up ask.)

Good to hear from you again 😊

I think there were a lot of things across the board that could have been tweaked or edited to improve the integrity of the series.  If I had to boil down the problem with DP to a single point I’d probably say it’s that the most interesting parts of the show are the characters/world/implications but the writers (or some of them anyway - I suspect there might have been some conflict between Hartman, the lead writers and the execs’) wanted certain plots, aesops and gags, and chose to brute-force them in regardless of whether they actually worked with what was already there.  Basically, it lacks consistency and internal logic.

For Sam in particular I think there are a few things that could have been handled better:

First one’s more a general complaint at the show and might light a fire under my notes but heck lets go there anyway but the writing has kind of a sexist bent that really doesn’t fit the characters or need to be there. Considering how much Danny and Jack are shown to love and respect Maddie and Jazz there’s no way they’d call their involvement in Genius Magazine “the swimsuit edition”.  Paulina might be traditionally feminine but “She surrendered her individuality for a boy! I’m so proud of her!” is not a line that any human girl in the history of human girls would say unironically.  There’s also a few too many jokes that basically boil down to “male character is emasculated/ vulnerable/ likes feminine-coded things, hyuk hyuk hyuk”.

I’m bringing this up not just because they’re gross cheap gags but because for Sam specifically, this pervasive low-key contempt for women and femininity in the writing, especially the tendency to portray almost every non-sympathetic girl her age as one-note, brainless boy-crazy cliches that she can’t connect with, really does not help her character.  I would have loved to see more genuine interaction between Sam and the other girls, even if it most of it was Kim Possible-Bonnie Rockwaller style antagonistic rapport.  We could have seen her develop some kind of tenuous connection with one of the A-listers, or even just have a secondary-female-character to be cordial towards - kind of like Mikey is for Danny and Tucker.  Hold up, outside of Valerie, Star and Paulina are there any named secondary girls at Casper High?  Sam doesn’t seem to have a single female friend in the show and considering how vocally judgemental she is, it can almost read like she’s rejecting them outright for being girls, which really undercuts attempts to make her seem feminist. (I mentioned it in a past tag but this feels like an early-2000s-male-writer mistake of equating Female Empowerment™ with the ability to tear down other women and belittle traditional femininity - which isn’t so much Feminism as it is Internalised Misogyny.)  Even just mixing up the pairings to put her with Star instead of Kwan in Lucky in Love would have helped.

I’d have also liked to see more awareness of and consistency in the conflict between her activism and her wealth.  It kind of undercuts the significance of her activism when you realise that she’s wealthy enough to make these choices with little cost to herself; it’s much easier to go vegan or buy renewable/ recyclable /sustainable /fair-trade when price isn’t an issue, especially if you also have serving staff to offset the time cost.  Once you notice this it makes her activism feel more tokenistic, and also like she doesn’t really understand her own privilege when she tries to push her agendas onto the school/ her classmates without considering why they mightn’t be able to do so as easily.  It’s also weird because the source of her family’s wealth is a cellophane-toothpick-wrapper (i.e. something that basically produces litter) but she still seems very comfortable enjoying the material benefits despite her pro-eco anti-consumerism sentiments.  It’s bizarre that she’s more concerned with the social consequence of ‘fake friends’ than the ethics of capitalism.  It can come off a bit “do as I say, not as I do”. 

It would have been nice for the show to give more screen time to reinforcing that Sam is aware of that conflict and is making an active effort to hold to her principles even at the cost of personal comfort; maybe showing some unease at the source of her wealth, trying to live below her means and only spend up on ethical/ eco-friendly/ sustainable products, op-shopping or hand-making her goth accessories, going out of her way to re-use or re-purpose things even if buying a new one would be ‘better’, actually showing or referencing her doing substantial hands-on activities (e.g. going off-screen or taking the boys to do tree-planting, litter pickups, soup kitchens, animal-shelter work etc).  Just something to help make it clearer that she genuinely cares and isn’t just doing the low-mess lip-service activities because she enjoys indulging in the image of Wokeness™.

These things would have helped regardless of how her family was written but let’s hop back on topic and talk about them.  I don’t have any prescriptive preference but let’s spitball a few different options and how they could have played:

#1 Sam’s parents don’t respect her interests and want her to fit a mold

In this case I’d make it that they don’t really pay attention or show much caring for who Sam really is as a person; their image of and interactions with her are more of a fantasised version of the ‘perfect’ daughter they want, they make very little effort to encourage her actual interests and are perhaps restrictive about what they let her do in the few moments when they do bother paying close attention (you might compare to some versions of Tim Drake’s Parents from DC Comics).  Classist, overly image-conscious, snobby and superficial.  

This would be the most sympathetic portrayal of her character without changing it very far from how it is in DP canon - helping contextualise why Sam is so fiercely defensive of her autonomy, why she pushes so hard when trying to get her opinions across and why she’s so judgemental of rich people and disdainful towards classic femininity - even possibly explaining her more hypocritical/ manipulative/ entitled traits as learned behaviours.  It would also give her more legitimate reason to be less empathetic towards others - after all even if they have struggles and family troubles it’s still better than what she’s dealing with (Danny’s parents may not be attentive but hey, at least they love him for himself, right?)

For this version I’d probably put her arc around growing past the “suffering olympics” model of viewing other people’s pain, but also in her finding family in Danny/Tucker/her Grandmother’s circle of connections, learning how to have healthy power-balance and communication in her relationships with others (aka: getting over her hypocrisy and realising that assertiveness is about communicating that “I matter, and so do you”) and pulling away from her parents’ influence - maybe even living with Ida a lot of the time.

#2 Sam’s parents are well-intentioned but overbearing

For this one, Sam’s parents would genuinely want the best for her… only they have an overly old-fashioned and restrictive view of what “the best” is and are a bit set-in-their-ways.  They’d probably view “hippies” and “goth” stuff as “dangerously rebellious hooligan-activities” and likely to be somewhat patronising about Sam’s passion for it being “just a phase”.   They’d be worried about her hanging around “the Fenton Kid” and “the Foley Kid” both because Danny’s parents are kind of irresponsible screwballs about safety but also because they put a lot of value in image due to their belief in social connections being the way to get ahead.  Them pushing Sam towards classic femininity and specific activities would be less about disrespecting her identity and more about their overly narrow view of “success” and worrying that she’s going to end up losing valuable opportunities and “wasting her life” if she keeps on down her current path.

This would still give Sam more sympathetic context for her views on femininity and pushiness about self-expression. 

Personally I think the arc I’d like to see here is one themed around responsible/considerate assertiveness and valuing alternative perspectives.  Sam coming to realise her own hypocrisy - that she can’t push her views onto others while complaining about her parents doing the same - developing more sympathy for Danny as she realises that he’s in a similar position with Jack’s insistence that he’ll inherent Fentonworks and his parents’ narrow-mindedness about ghosts, interacting with other girls and seeing their perspective, learning how to assert her opinion while making allowances for others’ (maybe an alternative version where she connects with Star in Lucky in Love and, after Aragon’s defeat in Beauty Marked, Sam still says she personally thinks it’s dumb but then steps down and lets Star win because she understands that Star values it), and getting her Grandma’s help in convincing her parents to widen their perspective while still responding to their concerns.

(This one has the overall kindest message and I think I like it best).

#3 Sam’s parents are trying and Sam’s actually the problem 

This one is the one that’s the least sympathetic to Sam.  Her parents still don’t get the Goth/Activist thing and they have some concerns about safety but they understand that it makes her happy and they’re okay with it so long as she’s not getting into trouble or mixing up with anyone that could hurt her.  Them pushing her towards more feminine/optimistic things is less pushing and more trying to encourage some hobbies that offer a bit more common ground.  They might have reservations, and they might not always have time, but they would like to be part of their daughter’s life… except for the problem that Sam has wrapped herself up in a teen-drama persecution complex and got it into her head that they “won’t accept her” are “pushing her to be someone else” and “don’t understand” so there’s no point even trying to explain or connect.  In this one Ida isn’t taking sides on purpose but she ends up accidentally enabling Sam a little because Sam reminds her of her younger days and she likes spoiling her granddaughter (and doesn’t much care for her daughter-in-law).

In this case Sam’s flaws would be framed much more as flaws born of her making superficial snap judgements, thinking she knows better and being too proud to admit she’s wrong.  There would definitely be moments of her coming across as an entitled, privileged holier-than-thou brat who invents problems because she likes feeling sorry for herself, especially early in her arc.

This version of the story would go the hardest on Sam with the general lesson being “you need to respect that other people are people who have their own problems, feelings and needs that are as real and valid as yours”.  She’d still have good qualities and Danny and Tucker would still obviously like and value her but there’d also be times of strain where they don’t want to hurt her feelings but are clearly getting worn out with the nonsense.  At its worst, maybe a “you’re like mustard. Great in small quantities, but a lot of you is…a lot” type confrontation.

I’d also give the secondary cast the most fleshing out, agency and sympathetic-ness here, and have beats where Sam has to realise that they’re lot more complex than her 2D stereotyped view of them and are dealing with actual serious problems to which hers are largely non-issues by comparison.  I’d probably play Dash and Paulina similar to in the fic Alibi (go read it, it’s good) - Dash being gay and performing aggression because toxic masculinity, insecurity, and being terrified of anyone outside the A-listers finding out (still not okay that he’s a bully but at least more understandable), while Paulina is hiding high emotional perceptiveness behind her pretty face and deliberately bearding for him to keep bigoted parents/ teachers off his back.  I’d also probably have a subplot in an alternate Life Lessons where Sam follows Valerie around because jealous/possessive and, like Danny, ends up realising that she’s working two jobs to help her Dad with their financial problems.  Basically she’d be getting hit with the Reality Stick a lot.

There’d also be more instances of Sam getting directly called out by the other girls. Fleshing them out as people and showing that their dislike is less superficiality and more because she unfairly judges and antagonises them all the time.  Giving them more agency in Beauty Marked and have them be direct about “we know you’re just here to be smug about how much ‘Better’ you are but have you considered that we’re doing this for ourselves and actually enjoy it?”.  Having Paulina be less “tee hee I am indeed a Witch” in Parental Bonding and more “Ugh fine, fine, I don’t really like him that much but you were being so obviously Jealous and Judge-y and I figured if I played a little you might actually step up.  But fine, if you’re sure.  Here’s your necklace back, I’ll let your dorky ‘friend’ down tomorrow.  But pro-tip?  You like someone you gotta go for it - otherwise don’t complain when your boy-toy gets taken by someone who actually means it.”  (Still petty, but emotionally intelligent pettiness, which… not really much better, but at least more interesting.)  A lot more of Sam realising that she’s not a particularly good feminist and that she’s no more entitled to Danny’s affections than anyone else.

To be honest, while I could say the most about this version and there’s a lot of potential drama there it’s the one I like the least because it means canonising my least favourite proto-abusive bad-faith narcissistic reading of Sam, casting her as an almost-villain and essentially punishing her over and over until she character develops into a decent human being.  Sure it’s an important message about how you treat others but it’s not a very nice or kind story and while there might be the odd fic that makes it cathartic I can’t say I’m a huge fan.

Again, if I had to pick, I’d probably go with something like #2. 

But there we go.  Another thrilling instalment in the “overly long posts about Sam Manson” saga.  

Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for stopping by!

#Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #Character Analysis #Storytelling suggestions #the mustard quote is from John Green's Turtles All The Way Down BTW (haven't read but heard it and thought it was a good turn of phrase) #there was so much potential in this show #they were really not good at writing girls in particular #cw: mentions of abuse #cw: sexism discussed #anonymous #3WD Answers

[straykidsupdate]

Stray Kids Talk Songwriting, Career Goals and Their First U.S. Tour

“Authenticity” is a keyword thrown around a lot more often in K-pop these days. With crossover potential in the foreground, there’s more at stake when it comes to shaking the dismissive notion that it’s “manufactured.” Companies are investing more in idols — not just as performers, but as visionaries of their artistic direction. It just so happens Stray Kids have emerged as a rookie boy band challenging these preconceived notions.

This nine-member group hails from one of Korea’s “Big 3” music agencies, JYP Entertainment. They’ve only been around for a year, and they’ve already hit huge career milestones. After snagging several Rookie of the Year trophies at Korean award shows, they just won their first music show at M Countdown on April 4.

“When we won first place for the first time, we were so happy and thankful towards our Stay,” main rapper Han told Forbes, referring to the group’s fandom. “We thought to ourselves that we would need to work even harder now to show an even better side to our Stay. One memory we have from that day is when our win was first announced, Seungmin and I cried a lot.”

Part of what sets Stray Kids apart is their heightened emphasis on self-composition. While it’s increasingly common for idols to pen their own songs, you’ll be hard-pressed to find a Stray Kids track that doesn’t feature a member in the liner notes. They even have their own in-house songwriting team: 3RACHA, featuring members Bang Chan, Changbin, and Han.

“We’re given a lot of freedom,” said Bang Chan, the Aussie leader of the group. “It’s mostly what we want to speak. It is our lyrics and our melodies. So we would write all our songs. We finish a song, and we would show it to our big boss, JYP. And he would give feedback on it. And yeah, it’s beautiful teamwork.”

The fate of a K-pop group’s lineup is often pre-determined by top-down management, but Stray Kids are presented as having an unprecedented level of autonomy. Auteurship is in the details, from Bang Chan hand-picking the members to his handwriting forming the group’s logo.Their discography — which has rapidly grown since their March 2018 debut — is representative of K-pop’s genre agnosticism. One minute, they’ll throw a bit of rap-rock your way. Next, they’ll hit hard with a well-timed EDM drop. They excel at blood-pumping bangers like latest single “MIROH,” but they can get more pensive on songs like “Grow Up.” While they have built a sound around a razor-edged intensity, they still make room for playful and light-hearted fare like “Get Cool.”Despite the diversity of their catalogue, there’s always a few song components they have to keep in mind when constructing a track. “BPM is very important especially because we are the ones who are performing on stage,” said Bang Chan. “Another important factor is the song structure. In my opinion, the song structure represents the flow of the whole song, so depending on the mood of the song, the song structure is quite important.”He’s not kidding. Take their third single, “My Pace.” The flow is disjointed by plenty of vocal breaks, speeding up just as soon as it slows down again. It’s a delicate balancing act, the way they anchor the hooks while keeping the listener on their toes by switching up the rhythm. But this temporal shapeshifting has a larger purpose. It feels conceptually poignant on this track, where the lyrics explore the theme of going through life at your own speed.

“Honestly, having the opportunity to even write songs for the team is a great big honor,” the 21-year-old leader said. “But because we still have a long way to go, we hope to become songwriters who can inspire others and give energy and hope to people in need.”

Stray Kids are already off to an impressive start, wrapping up the three-EP I Am series in less than a year. The group threaded together a whole narrative cycle across the albums I Am Not, I Am Who, and I Am You. Their world-building began in the dystopian “District 9,” where they escaped authoritarian uniformity to forge their own paths.

I Am is fundamentally a bildungsroman brought to life by a group in their teens and early 20s, taking the listener on a journey to self-discovery. “The message of I Am Not is realizing that I don’t feel like myself,” Bang Chan previously explained during 3RACHA’s “pre-talk” with JYP. “I Am Who throws a question, ‘if I am not myself, who am I?’ As for I Am You, it sounds like we made a conclusion. But in fact, we have yet to find out about our identity.”

That lack of resolution makes sense because it reflects the group’s own transitional state of entering into both adulthood and celebrity status.

“While I was going through school, I would think, ‘What’s my dream? Do I really have to do this? My parents expect me to do this but is this what I want?’” Bang Chan said. “Honestly, I haven’t found the answer yet. I still don’t know who I am. But I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who thinks like this, right? I just really want to reach out to people who are having the same problem like me — well, not problem. It’s not a problem, but I guess [people] who are going through the same thing. This is the reason we wanted to express that in the I Am series.”

Naturally, these themes also bleed into their follow-up album series, which kicked off with March’s Clé 1: MIROH. In particular, “19” — with lyrics solely written by 18-year-old Han — paints vignettes that dig deeper into his hesitations about entering adulthood.

But the connections between the I Am and Clé series go beyond shared thematic content. “In the music video for ‘I Am You,’ we were looking down at a maze-like city from the rooftop [in District 9],” Changbin said. “This city’s name is MIROH, and MIROH is our new world.”

Stray Kids are practically building their own cinematic universe, and their latest album teaser for Clé 2: Yellow Wood — which will be released on June 19 — could be mistaken for a movie trailer. Note that the setting is in an elevator, which brings to mind their pre-debut single, “Hellevator.” Visual callbacks to their previous work are part of the fabric of their ongoing narrative.

“It is a bit challenging,” said Bang Chan. “But when we write our songs, we do think about what we’ve written before and how we need to continue off of that and what we need to think about writing on next. It’s okay, it’s not that difficult. But we do need to think about [it].”

When they’re not dreaming up dystopian cities, they’re taking their tagline “Stray Kids everywhere, all around the world” seriously. Just last month, they headed out on their first U.S. tour, making sold-out stops in Newark, Houston, and Los Angeles. Come July, they’ll take their Unveil tour to Europe. “Through these stages and performances, we want to be able to show later on more people in more cities what we’re made of,” main dancer Hyunjin said.

On May 17, they played a show at the Pasadena Civic Auditorium that was simultaneously characterized by the sensory onslaught of their adrenaline-inducing performances and the vulnerable affability of their frequent ments, or speaking segments. Their raucous spin on K-pop maximalism literally left the 3,000-seat venue shook, as Stays rattled the balcony in their excitement.

But the nonet also made use of the relatively intimate space, placing more emphasis on fan engagement than your average concert. By the time the evening rolled around to their goodbye talk, the members had some heartfelt words for Stay. “I always read our Stays’ letters, and you guys are always afraid of the future,” Han said on stage. “I just want to tell you [to] believe in yourself and just don’t look back. We are on your side.” It was a moment that captured Stray Kids’ penchant for speaking about issues faced by young people.

“We’re always showing and sharing our own music,” the youngest member I.N said over the phone. “We want to be known as a group where we can give good emotions and influences to people around us.”

(source)

#stray kids #190606 #era: clé 1 miroh #t: article #forbes

[dahniwitchoflight]

Candy 15-17

Alright I know this is supposed to be sad but this feel so ridiculous it’s funny

“He ventures a glance at Dave, who is at the front of the line carrying a smaller casket containing Dirk’s decapitated head. “

why is there a seperate casket for the head, that’s not what funeral homes do xD

“It would be absurd were it not so tragic, and possibly also predictable.” 

“He looks at Dirk’s casket, sitting diagonally in a hole in the floor and popped about 13% of the way open.”

That’s a strangley specific number

Am I to take the imagery of something being diagonal as imagery for a “4″ and then complete it with the 13 to make 413?

Cuz is so, that’s heavy handed and ridiculous probably just as Dirk intended

“ROXY: and give it over to someone whos way more eloquent than me

Dave gets to his feet”

right because Dave is always so eloquent when it comes to delicate emotional matters lol

I don’t know why I’m finding this all so hilarious instead of tragic, maybe because it’s so melodramatic and in a way that feels scripted specifically by Dirk himself

ah, 3 quarters 

3 1/4′s

413 backwards now

“or even worse that he was somehow cosmically fated to become that person no matter what he wanted or did to prevent it “

I’m noticing more and more every time the phrase Cosmically fated is used in some form of Homestuck media its always bringing to mind ideas of Doc Scratch, like he’s the one who said it actually or it’s said in reference to him

so, +1 point to DS = DS again

“Gamzee:  I may not be all up and learned about his life, but I’ve got deep spirital connections to his death.”

yeah you sure do, and we’re not even talking about his decapitation right now aren’t we Gamzee?

This is actually a really solid point that the day “Dirk” died was the day his ultimate self got poisoned through the unholy merger that is Lord English/Caliborn/Gamzee/AR/Equius

So he’s probably been a bastard ever since Lord English started existing, which I mean “I am already here” blahblah means Dirk was very likely like this from the start potentially, but he was probbaly only really a bastard ever since Arquis got sucked into Caliborn/Gamzee

“GAMZEE: ThIs WaS nO cOiNcIdEnCe. It WaS a HiGhEr PoWeR gUiDiNg My PaTh.

GAMZEE: tHeSe PoWeRs MaDe SuRe ThAt I wOuLd Be ThErE, tO rEcEiVe A gReAt WaRrIoR’s FiNaL mEsSaGe, AnD rElAy It To YoU oN tHiS dArK aNd DrEaRy DaY oF dEaTh.

GAMZEE: HoNk!

The clown thrusts his hand somewhere beneath the waistband of his pants and starts obscenely rooting around. He retrieves a piece of paper, crumpled and soaked from the rain outside, and attempts to smooth it out over the lectern. The wet paper breaks apart immediately beneath his oafish clown paws.

GAMZEE: AwWw, ShIzZ. i GuEsS i’Ve GoT tO uP aNd WiNg It!”

yeah that note was probably the last shredded remnants of good dirk since there’s literally no reason to leave a sentimental note like that for his friends, makes sense Gamzee was guided by “a higher power” to grab it and make sure it gets relayed more like ruined to his friends

“KARKAT: THAT WAS HALF A HUNDRED WORDS TO EXPRESS A THREE LETTER SENTIMENT.

KARKAT: I’D SAY HE’S DOING FINE.”

What? How does “I’d say he’s doing fine” translate into “a three letter statement”?

Are they just hamfisting in the threes now or what?

“DAVE: i dunno dude thats

DAVE: a little fucked up actually

JOHN: you think so?

DAVE: yeah

DAVE: dirk was a complicated guy

DAVE: dude obviously had reasons for doing what he did

DAVE: if you go back and just rewrite his decision

DAVE: thats like denying him his personal autonomy

JOHN: huh. i... didn’t think about it that way.“

Yeah if only they’d realize that what Dirk needs is a huge heaping helping of someone pushing back against his dumb decisions for once

Gotta give it to John though, he’s struggling against this drugged up haze so hard, he knows getting married to Roxy isn’t right and tries to think about that

but then he gets caught up in the drugged up candy haze and starts giggling, yeah you guys are gonna be happy alright, happy in a nice little drugged up stupor

lampshaded by John still reaching out to terezi despite being at his human wedding

Aww, trolls don’t have a concept of weddings? well, that makes sense but still

oh man it just keeps happening, this is supposed to be the story where John and Roxy get their love story, but all were actually getting is the faded echoes of what should have been which is apparently John and Terezi

oh god, Jane, jane why did Gamzee have to be your third partner, what the fuck even

I don’t wanna think about Gamzee about in relationships nope this is where I start getting uncomfortable

confirmed jade attempting Blackrom with Karkat, that’s interesting, and she’s bad at it too meaning she must not really have an interest in it

oh wow, she’s really just doing it because she thinks its what Karkat would want isnt she? Girl really is just desperate for love

“Three months later, John is still thinking about his last conversation with Terezi.”

See, this is how you know the JohnRoxy relationship is doomed/not meant to be

John Egbert, lover of Con Air and Nic Cage, has a loving wife and (probably) daughter and NOT ONCE has this narrative shown them OR made the joke, we just absolutely passed over the whole wedding and birth event in one fell swoop of unrequited feelings jam with another woman

Why is Roxy praying? That’s such a weird thing to drop as a small detail, who would she even be praying too?

“What’s bugging him about it is that Roxy didn’t seem to have any suggestions of her own.”

Yeah relationships built on social chameleon-ing aren’t happy for the chameleon either

Yeah John, little bit late to be having this sudden realization that you didn’t actually solve the problem (LE) by running away from it, even if everyone else has accepted that version of events

“ JOHN: you gave me a list of instructions and told me that i had to use my retcon powers to go back to a very specific point in time to defeat lord english when he was still just a kid. “

*THEORY INCOMING KILL BILL SIRENS ACTIVATE*

Wait, is that what Rose said at the beginning? No it isn’t, I remember the bit about John has to go back inside canon and defeat Lord English, I don’t think the method was ever fully explained though, nor the idea that he had to defeat him as a kid, it was never said he had to go back in time, just go back to canon

and that’s not what happened in the Meat timeline either! Nobody went back in time to defeat Caliborn when he was a kid, they just had the big showdown with LE exactly the way Rose is describing that went horribly wrong

this is practically screaming NEITHER Meat or Candy is the true version of events 

Actually yeah, defeating Caliborn really IS the way this should be settled, because it’s also the way that Dirk get saved as well, can’t get his ultimate self tainted if the taint is destroyed before it ever comes into contact with him

also im rereading the prologue now, it’s is NEVER explicitly said that John has to go and defeat lord english’s child form!

She said “you have to go back to canon to defeat LE” NOT go back in time to defeat caliborn

and “you can’t recklessly attack his hulking adult form without the house juju”

not “you can’t attack him as an adult at all” but “you can do that WITHOUT the juju” and describes it being used in the same way that Vriska ended up doing in Meat

yeah, she never mentions any plan to defeat him as a child in the prologue, which probably means Rose only saw a vision of his defeat as an adult as well

It’s gonna be JOHN who gets the idea to go back and kill him as a kid, because that’s how he understood Rose’s instructions!

But this is great, everything is vaguely worded enough that it COULD be applied to a fight against a young caliborn too! but just hasn’t yet!

What if you take the empty cursor and fill it with a young caliborn? instead of unleashing a full one against an adult LE? which proves to be pretty useless in the long run despite Rose’s apparent clouded vision?

Rose even says herself its only purpose is as an empty vessel meant to be filled by something, talk about totally understanding yet missing the point, this is probably what she meant by being unable to see any path beyond the meat or candy routes, she couldnt see the possibility of using the juju on caliborn before everything goes down just like how it was used on John and friends to trap them in there in Meat!

It’s Caliborn’s destined time out spot! Removing him from Canon and from being able to influence it without needing to kill someone who technically hasnt done bad things yet but absolutely will in the future solving the baby adolf problem with Caliborn

Oh man, what if they even trick Caliborn on using it against himself? talk about an earthbound reference, defeat Gigyas (LE) by tricking Pokey (Caliborn)  to trap himself in the "Absolutely Safe Capsule” (House JuJu)

Oh man back on the Candy train though John’s having an absolute breakdown, being infused with that canon retcon power seems to be the only thing preserving his ability to care about stuff beyond this happy drugged up paradise

Earth C has become Homestuck’s Ba Sing Se

“ He braces himself, as if splashing an imaginary glass of cold water in his own face, and reminds himself once again that he has a wonderful life. A perfect life. He’s HAPPY, god damn it.”

You really aren’t John, this is very clear, dousing yourself with some more Void to try and drown that out ain’t helping

#Homestuck #Meat or Candy