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dothwrites · 3 years

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13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #dean winchester #castiel #teacher au #detective au #dothwrites #i forgot how much i loved tumblr ficlets

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mas-o-kissed · 2 years

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Hypnovember 5: Uniform

Here’s another prompt, a few hours late lol. CW for noncon/dubcon body & mind control. This one has some rather dubious manipulation from the POV character’s significant other, so be warned. Please read my DNI, and minors don’t touch.

***

My first thought as I looked at myself in the mirror was that I couldn’t let my boyfriend spend this kind of money on clothes.

I’d seen fitted suits run for $2000, even $3000, but $15,000 for a single outfit? That had to be far beyond what it was worth.

“Very nice,” Alec said, as he approached from behind me. I had to admit that it was true, the suit fit me very well. The dark fabric was cut to my small frame, and the effect was very flattering. Still, I couldn’t help but think I looked a bit like a butler, or perhaps like a waiter at an upscale restaurant. It felt like I was in a uniform.

“Thank you,” I said, “but I can’t possibly accept it.”

“Oh?” He smiled, “We’ll see, love.”

The look on his face made me feel like he’d made a joke that I’d somehow missed, but after a moment a sales clerk approached, carrying a tablet. “We’ll need to calibrate it,” he said, showing Alec something on the screen.

“Calibrate?” I asked, but the sales clerk didn’t pay me any mind, “What does that mean?” This time I looked at Alec, who simply nodded his head and pointed to something on the tablet.

In an instant, I felt shivers down my back. There was a pulse, and a feeling like static electricity working through the suit.

“What’s happening?” I wasn’t quite panicked, but the strange sensations from the suit did freak me out.

“Don’t worry,” Alec told me, “Just relax, dear.”

I felt my back straighten, and my hands clasped behind my back of their own accord. I realized very quickly that I’d lost control of my limbs. As the static ran through the suit, my body moved into various positions. My right arm rose in front of me and as I tried to push it down with my other hand, I felt my left arm rise as well. I bent backward, contorting slightly, then stumbled forward, nearly falling to my knees.

“Overshot a little,” muttered the clerk, tapping on the tablet.

“What’s going on?!” This time I was panicking, as the suit moved my body in ways that were totally out of my control. Alec put his hand in mine and helped me find my balance as I regained control over my body, the electricity fading to a light tingling sensation. I looked up at him, accusatory. “What are you trying to to do me?”

“You’ve told me that you want to serve me, to submit to me, but I know how embarrassed it can make you, my dear,” he said, lifting my chin. I felt my face turn red as I looked at the clerk out of the corner of my eye. He seemed fully occupied with the tablet. Of course, this must have seemed totally normal to someone who worked in a place that sold suits like this. Alec tapped my cheek with his finger, pulling my attention back to him. “I thought this might be fun for both of us. After all, what’s there to be embarrassed about if you aren’t in control?”

I tried to remove the jacket but found that my arms wouldn’t do as I wanted. When I tried to pull them out of the sleeves, they fell loosely to my sides. “G-get this thing off me,” I stammered, my cheeks getting hotter.

And yet I couldn’t deny, having so little control was really turning me on.

“The wearer can’t remove one of these suits unless instructed,” the clerk said, casually, “His body’s fully calibrated with the suit, so next is the head.”

I shook my head no, but Alec simply smiled down at me and said, “Proceed.”

I felt the tingling sensation rise up my spine and into my head. My face relaxed, and I caught a look at my reflection in the mirror. I looked totally blank, my mouth hanging loosely open. As the static filled my head, I could only think of one thing: it felt really good. My whole body was filled with warmth, and all of the fear flowed out of me.

I was only vaguely aware of the clerk’s voice as he told Alec that the suit had different settings. Alec left my side to look at the tablet, but I couldn’t turn to watch. I could only stand and look blankly ahead.

Obedient, I heard one of them say through the fog. Seductive. Bratty. A list of some kind, but my mind was too fuzzy to fully grasp the conversation. Service oriented. Bimbo. Pet.

Lovestruck was the word they stopped on. I heard it echo through my head, and with a tap on the tablet, I felt it rise up through my body and fill me with soft, romantic feelings.

Lovestruck.

In the mirror, I saw myself smile, my eyes half-lidded and fluttering. I turned toward Alec, and I heard my own voice say, “This is wonderful. Thank you, my darling. I love belonging to you.”

There was a part of me deep inside that cringed, especially after what he’d done to me, but it was completely out of my control. I snuggled up to him, burying my face in his chest, and he gently stroked my hair.

It felt so, so good.

Alec slid his credit card to the clerk. “Do you want us to wrap these for you?” The clerk asked, sliding the card through the reader on the tablet.

“No,” Alec said, “He’ll wear it out.”

#hypnosis #hypnovember #hypnokink #It’s 3am where I am so this isn’t my best lol #I’ll probably edit a bit when I can proofread tomorrow #my writing

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 3 years

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Wilfords Demands: Simple As That

Summary- 7.3k Curtis Everett x You. Realization of your predicament really sinks in, but Curtis wont simply let that happen. Wilford seems happy to extend the deal, after all Curtis is his favorite fighter, always has been. Confident that things wont be as bad as they could be, you and Curtis settle into preparing for the new child. Divider made by @firefly-graphics

Warnings- talks of pregnancy, hint of possible abortion (a sentence), smut. 18+ Only.

A/N- I can’t claim to know anything about pregnancy except what research has informed me. So descriptions will be vague and probably not accurate.

Chapter 4 / Wilfords Demands Masterlist

“Then my Dear, you better encourage Curtis to win.”

Those words sunk deep as you looked into Wilfords cold ice-sharp eyes, the way he was grinning as if this was a game. But it wasn't a game, this was your life, Curtis's life and ultimately the new life growing inside of you right now.

And right now it was better to stay with the devil you knew. Your hands flew to your still flat stomach, pressing it lightly while gasping out.

“But I'm pregnant, with Curtis’s child. You can’t give me to another while raising his child.” You pointed out, hoping that the facts would be on your side in this.

Wilford pulled back with a hearty laugh that made you feel sick, wanting to vomit hearing it. Claude to snickered at you as if you were to stupid to understand. Your confused look clouded your face.

“Girl, you think you get to keep that baby? No woman like you gets to keep them.” Wilford wiped under his eyes to clear the tears. You could feel the blood ringing in your ears now as panic settled in your chest.

“You are going to take away my baby?”

“Of course you stupid bitch, you all are not fit to be mothers. Other more capable women will take them, raise them.” Claude snapped out gleefully at your distress. Wilford leaned forward giving you what was supposed to be a comforting pat on the hand, which you pulled back to your chest out of his reach.

“Girl, you will birth that child and give him up to us. I might even keep this one for myself. If Curtis wins. I only keep winners. I expect you to be good to whoever gets to claim you after the tournament.” He shifted to a stand, putting his chair back. You were in too much shock to even comprehend what Claude and Wilford were saying to one another.

“Ah, Claude, you better take her back to Curtis. The pretty thing seems to be in shock.” Wilford sighed a bit. “If she wasn't a tail ender, I would keep her for myself. She is a lovely thing. I'm sure Curtis will do his best to keep her.”

You just stared ahead now while Claude pulled you to a stand with a mutter. “It is a shame Sir. But you don't really want to lower yourself to that.”

All of this was just mumbled nonsense to you, still rolling over what they said earlier, neither you nor Curtis were going to get to keep the baby.

Heading back towards the rooms, Claude paused you at the door and gave a nod to have it unlocked.

Curtis had been pacing the room. To watch him was like the large cats in the zoo, coiled muscles back and forth pacing, snarls of frustration escaping at his predicament. The creak of the door made him pause though and you stepped through, your arms wrapped around your midsection and a blank look on your face. That scared him. And when the door slammed shut behind you, you flinched and blinked suddenly realizing where you were.

“Y/N? Say something.” Curtis finally broke the silence, crossing the room to grasp your forearms, looking for another reaction from you. Anything to snap you out of the silence.

You blinked a few more times and opened your mouth to say something but the words seem to be stuck somewhere.

Curtis drew you to sit on the edge of the bed and lowered next to you waiting. Finally you looked at him, drawing in a breath.

“There's a tournament? And I'm the prize?” You asked it like a question, still disbelieving. Curtis’s face darkened with a nod.

“Yes. It's a gladiator style tournament once a year. I swear Y/N, I'm not going to lose and let anyone else have you. It’s why I have been training so hard.” He shifted in closer and let his hand rest on your thigh, squeezing lightly. “I have been training for these tournaments for years.”

You looked down at his hand and studied it a moment, his knuckles were thick with scar tissue, some still busted from use. Fingers dug slightly into your thigh, as if holding you to him in case anyone tried to take you.

Hands of someone who lived a hard life, but managed to be gentle on you most the time. You knew you would have to tell him the next part. This you didn't know how to deal with. It should have been joyful news, but it was so tainted by the situation. “I'm also pregnant, several weeks now. Did you know… when you got me pregnant that I wouldn't be keeping the child?” You cleared your throat a bit.

Curtis withdrew his hold on you, flexing his hand. “Y/N… I never was sure but I suspected. The other women I had with me, I never saw them again. I don't know what happened to them or if they were allowed to keep their children.” His shoulders hunched. “But you… Wilford told me you were going to stay. He told you specifically that he would be taking it away?”

You swallowed and pulled back into the bed, to use the wall as support, your legs stretched out before you and your hands resting on your stomach.

“He did, he plans on taking it as soon as I give birth.“ You say darkly, already feeling protective and deep sadness that you wouldn't be able to prevent this.

Unless… the idea was so dark, it made your stomach churn.

Curtis was quiet for that moment watching you, worried at how quiet you had turned. He made a move to touch you and you withdrew from him.

“Please don’t… just this once.” You asked and Curtis for the first time withdrew from you and moved to the chair at the table, rubbing a hand over his head.

Any other time this happened, it didn't mean much to him except that his current charge was leaving. But to hear that you had his baby growing inside you made conflicting feelings. Part of him was thrilled, for whatever reason he wanted to see you grow and need him. To cradle his child to your chest and whisper sweet nothings. Warming his bed and filling his life.

The dread followed close on that feeling, because nothing good ever happened on the train. Even if he won, you were still going to lose the child. And Curtis didn't think he could handle that pain, but more importantly, that you couldn't handle it. Pushing to a stand, he pounded on the locked door. Hard enough for you to jump “Curtis, what are you doing?” The door opened once more.

“I need to see Wilford.”

The guard shook his head. “Not till your appointed time.” Curtis surged forward, pushing the man back into the hallway wall and fisted his hand in his gear to lift him off his feet, snarling out.

“I need to see Wilford now.”

Let him come. Came a cackle in a walkie and Curtis let him go.

He didn’t look back as your panicked voice called to him once again. “CURTIS! What are you doing?” You were trying to untangle from the bed when the door slammed shut, the last view Curtis had of you was your look of confusion and panic.

Without a word, Curtis was escorted back to Wilford’s. Being let in, Curtis didn't even hesitate as he brushed past Claude, who huffed in annoyance. “Asshole.”

“You can’t take her child.”

Wilford was standing up in the engine. “Isn't she just beautiful Curtis? Every part of her has a function that keeps us alive and moving. I’ve worked so hard to keep her running so smoothly” Curtis went up the steps into the hellish thing, not finding the beauty that Wilford seemed to be admiring.

“Let her keep the baby.” He started again, clenching his hands at his sides to keep from grabbing Wilford. He knew if he did Claude would shoot him in two seconds, but the urge not to snap the man's neck burned through him.

Wilford finally broke from whatever he was admiring and turned sharply to ascend down the steps, leaving Curtis standing there. “You two can just make more Curtis. Why this time? You never cared before what happened to the women or children.”

“Because Y/N is staying with me, you take away that child and you will destroy a part of her.”

“Make her easier to handle then wouldn't it? No fight left.”

Curtis growled a bit. “She isn't a problem now Wilford.”

“Listen, I’m not an unreasonable man. You win, you keep it all. The girl, the baby. We will change the terms of your contract. You Curtis were always one of my favorites. If it makes you happy, then I can give you this.” Wilford finally said, acting as if he was doing Curtis a favor by the way he spoke to him.

“What's the catch? If I lose?” Curtis asked knowing there would be more and Wilford shrugged.

“Then you lose it all Curtis, just like always.” Wilford stated, snapping his fingers to have the guard come back in waiting for Curtis. “She belongs to the champion, she will lose the child and the terms of her contract with you will pass to whomever gets to claim her. Like I told your little Sweetheart, don’t mess up if you want to keep her with you that badly.”

Curtis glowered at him, straightening to his full height. “I don't plan on it.”

Wilford looked nothing but joyful and calculating. “Just what I wanted to hear.”

After that Curtis was directed to leave the engine, the steel door slamming in his face.

There is no other choice, not that there was much of one before going into the ring ever. If Curtis was to keep you safe, he was going to have to win. With that resolve, he went back to find you curled up on the bed, knees pulled up, arms hugging around yourself. As if you were trying to fold in on yourself and escape. Lifting your head when you heard the door open, Curtis could see the relieved sigh that escaped you. Your tension loosening in your hold as you shifted to sit at the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

“I just talked to Wilford.” He made his way to the chair at the table, easing down in it for a minute while the silence stretched between you two.

When Curtis leaned down to untie his boots, you ventured with your next question. Playing with your fingers. “About the child? Curtis if they take me away…” Your voice drifted, cracking a bit at the thought even passing your mind, let alone saying it. “Maybe it's just better that this baby doesn't come, you know? Maybe it's best to just-”

Curtis immediately snapped his head up, eyes blazing in anger as he barked out sharply. “Don’t even go there Y/N. You and that baby are not going anywhere.”

You quieted for a moment, looking down at your hands after his raise of his voice and you heard Curtis curse from his seat, moving to grasp your chin and make you look up at him. “Trust me okay Y/N. I'm not going to lose.”

You wanted to, you could see the resolve in his gaze as he made you look at him.

This sadness that was all over your face pained Curtis and he wanted nothing more than to take it away. His grasp loosened slightly on your chin, your eyes still uplifted to bore into his, but you made no move to pull away from him. He did what he could only think of to do, lowering his head, his rough lips pressed gently against yours and his hands sliding to cup your face. You were so soft in his hard life.

This time Curtis didn't demand you to open for him, he waited, the top of his tongue tracing the seam to be allowed in. The action spun your head, and immediately the tickle enticed your lips apart, allowing him to tangle his tongue with yours. Pressing you back as Curtis continued forward, you fell back into the mess of the bed, Curtis moving over you while never breaking the kiss till you had to pull away to draw in a breath. But he didn't stall, bringing his mouth down to your jawline and the curve of your neck, pressing his knee in between your thighs so he could slot his hips there to press his weight over you.

A while ago you learned how pointless it was to fight against him and now at this point maybe you no longer wanted to. He could give you mindless pleasure, let you forget the mess of your existence for just a few moments if you just let him. Curtis’s fingers expertly plucking away at the ties of your pants and drawing them down, muttering for you to lift yourself which you listened to, raising your hips under him while dragging your palms to brace against his back, digging in your fingers through the layers of his clothing to hold onto him.

“Do you promise Curtis? I don't care what happens to me anymore. But this baby, Wilford cant have. Please promise me.” You gasped slightly under him as you felt his fingers start to stroke you, seeking for you to open once more for him. Arousal pooling with each expert touch heated you to a warmth that couldn't be found any other way. He dragged your shirt over your head, kissing against the top of your breasts and drawing a nipple into his mouth to suck between his teeth while you started to wither at the sensations he was drawing out of you.

“I promise Y/N, you just focus on growing our baby, m’kay?” He grunted as his hand covered your fluttering belly, not yet round or even showing. But knowing it was in there and for once he was going to get to see it all happen stirred something in Curtis. Something he never wanted or cared for before. Flicks of his tongue traced around your nipples, the warmth of his mouth was such a contrast to the coolness in the air, it drew out these soft little gasps that delighted the man.

Your hips started to rock into his hand while he started to finger you, stroking velvet walls while he lifted his head to watch your reactions. Always so expressive, you fisted your hands in his shirt while your head tilted into the pillows with a soft whimper, knowing that you were close. Curtis was rewarded when your eyes glazed over and warmth flooded his hand while you clamped around him. “Good Girl, don't hold back.” He praised you while tilting down to kiss you slowly, swallowing the aftermath of your orgasm, the tiny whimpers of his name and your pleas for him to finish.

How badly you wanted him to finish in you now.

Curtis pulled back to yank his shirt off and shove his pants down enough to release his cock, stroking himself over you. Your eyes lowered to watch him and for the first time ever, you reached to wrap your hand around his length. “Oh shit Y/N.” His voice stuttered when you squeezed slightly. He hunched over you, falling to his elbow while you pressed him between your swollen folds, looking up at him with a bite to your lip.

“Promise me Curtis.”

Blue eyes that were once so damn harsh and cold towards you simmered heatedly. You didn't know how you could ever think of them as cold as they sharpened with desire. Curtis pressed his forehead to yours for a moment, whispering. “On my life Y/N.”

You gave a slight nod at his answer and his mouth pressed against yours as he started to press into you. The stretch had you gasping though, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down to press your mouth back to his, his hands held onto the side of your head as he started rocking his hips, dragging himself in deep to the place only he has ever been. Dragging against your sensitive walls, you wrapped yourself around him while placing kisses against his mouth, gasping whenever he dropped his weight on you and speared back into your heat.

With everything going on, you let yourself enjoy being with him. The push and pull, the feel of his heavier body pressing yours into the bedding beneath. His heavy length filling you till you were clamping around him to keep him there.

Your fingers curled into his neck, twisting into the short hairs at the back of his head, and Curtis continued pressing harder grunting kisses against your shoulder, his hands curling around under your arms and grasping your shoulders to hold you close as his hips ground into you, his pelvis pressing against your clit.

The rush of it all, the feeling of him kissing you so passionately while he kept claiming you to spiral under him was so much. A cold fire in your belly and the flutters in you turned to clamping, trying to hold him to you while you came.

“That's right sweet girl, just let it happen.” He grunted once more when your body under him locked, twitching as you dug into the back of his neck and your knees gripped his hips to rock with him. His hand loosened on your shoulder and pressed between your bodies, his palm slightly pressing against your stomach to feel how full you were from him and then fell between your bodies to rub your clit to bring you to arousal again.

“Curtis-” You whined and he nudged your head back, sucking on your neck, pressing faster.

“One more, that's it. I know it feels good.” He hissed feeling you buck underneath him. “Feel s’good, right?”

You nodded your head hurriedly while he played you so expertly, all those other times he had grown to learn what made you wither and whine for him, the only man to ever make you feel like this. Which after the stress of the day, you needed to go mindless. “So-so good.”

Nip of teeth with a touch of his tongue, had you arching, the room filled with the harsh sounds of his body colliding with yours and the squeak of the mattress underneath you. Your toes curled and you sobbed out, dropping your hand to cover your mouth to keep your orgasm from bouncing off the metal walls, but he jerked your hand down, filling your mouth with his tongue. Harsh thrusts turned to grind out his own release, warmth flooding you in an all to familiar pleasure.

You dug fingers into his shoulders and dragged him over you, quivering underneath him while pressing your face into his chest, willing your heart to start to slow while his rat-a-tat-tat rapidly in his own chest, deep inhales expanding his chest and pushing you into the mattress while he gasped for air. Curtis went to move, but you clutched tighter. “Dont, please not yet.”

Reaching underneath him, he pushed to an elbow and fisted his hand in your hair gently to pull your head away to look up at him. “I'm not, just be patient Y/N.”

Curtis eased down enough so he wasn't smothering you, but could lay his head on your chest, his arms looped around your midsection. His hips kept your thighs pinned underneath him and his belly pressed against your waist, keeping you under him.

“Soon I won't be able to lay like this on you, you know.” He pointed out after a few minutes and you slipped your hand tentative over his scalp and along the back of his neck. Another first he thought to himself while he closed his eyes to enjoy the way you were willingly touching him.

“I know… I actually never knew I liked the way it felt.” You admitted, having always pulled away from him before after they finished.

Curtis didn’t either, sex had always been a means to an end, there was no intimacy really in it for him. It was a necessity to survive, so he never allowed himself to enjoy it like this, it was simply good in the moment and when it was over, it was over. It never really occurred to him that it could be this simple moment of bliss. But feeling the softness of your body just cradle him so easily, your warmth envelops him into a lull of relaxation. Well, maybe he could get used to feeling this way.

Feeling this way with you.

“Curtis… I have to get up.” You said after a while with what he hoped was regret in your voice. Planting his hands against the mattress, he pulled himself off to lay at the side while you shifted out from under him to sit on the edge of the bed and reach down to grab something to cover yourself with.

“Why do you do that? Cover yourself?” He asked, while you slipped the shirt over your head so that it pooled down around your thighs. You glanced over your shoulder, where he laid stretched out, comfortable in his own skin.

“Why wouldn't I? It's not like I'm anything special Curtis. Also it's safer in the tail end to not get noticed.” You said while pulling to a stand and disappearing in the bathroom. Curtis frowned to himself, he could understand not getting noticed, but the other he couldn't agree with. He was still genuinely surprised that you were a virgin when you were brought to him.

When you came back out, running your hands over your shirt and moving to crawl back in the bed, Curtis reached over and grasped your chin in his forefinger and thumb. “That's not true Y/N.”

You blinked at him wide eyed, confused in such an innocent way. The corners of his mouth tugged a bit seeing you blink at him owlishly. “What's not true?” You wriggled into the dip in the mattress you had left earlier.

“You claim you're not anything special. You are beautiful Sweetheart. Especially now that your health is returning. I'm not the only one to notice.” His fingers loosened and trailed along your cheeks that were filling out and were always so warm against his fingertips.

You huffed a bit and your eyes went downcast while settling back in the bedding. “I don't know if that is a good thing.” You wrinkled your nose and Curtis reached over to let his hand settle on your stomach.

“You are not going anywhere.”

First Trimester

Changes started so subtly. One morning your stomach turned at the sight of eggs Curtis brought that had you sprinting to the bathroom and over the toilet. You grasped the sides as you gagged over it, and Curtis cussed while placing the tray down, following you in to stand behind you, pulling hair back and rubbing your back. Once you stopped gasping and fell back to sit on your ankles, he let go of you and went to the bathroom sink to fill a cup with some water for you to clear your mouth with. Taking it, you swished some water and spat it out before handing it back to Curtis. “Thank you.”

“What was it?” He questioned while giving the cup a rinse and reached down to help you to stand.

“Uhh, the eggs maybe?” You took a deep breath just thinking about it and felt your stomach roll again while moving to the sink and grabbed the tooth brush.

“Want me to get rid of them?”

“Can you Curtis?”

He gave a smile and rubbed your back once before exiting the bathroom, giving you some privacy. Going back out, you saw the offending pile of eggs was gone. Alot of it was trial and error. You soon learned that you had a constant craving for milk as well, which Curtis was sure to start adding to all the meals he brought you.

You craved back rubs and shoulder rubs, which Curtis was good at you found out. As well as being so tired. All the time. You took several naps throughout the day, which at first you apologized for. Curling up in bed to sit whenever Curtis caught you dozing off. One day with a sketch pad stretched out before him, making lazy swipes with his pencil, he gave a shake of his head. “Sleep. You have to listen to your body and right now you are growing a person, no wonder you are tired.” When you started to protest by throwing the blankets off you, Curtis gave you a hard stare till you sunk back down, blinking back at him.

“You are being serious.”

“Aren't I always Y/N? Finish your nap.” He said curtly and went back to his sketch. The sun heated through the glass and the beams fell over you, lulling you back to sleep. When you woke up later, Curtis was gone. But his notepad was left, which when you got up, you leaned over it to see what he had been working on.

A sketch of you stretched out in bed, your hair falling around your sleeping face. You could tell he had been practicing his shading as he did it from several angles, and one where you had rolled to your hip, sure to focus on your hand pressing against the slight bump you had.

When he came back, Curtis would offer to take you around the train as long as you weren't tired. At first you declined, worried about further run-ins with people like Grey, New Years Eve not far from your mind. But the more times he offered and you grew restless, you took him up on the offer.

The greenhouse car was one you always looked forward to, the natural lighting in it for the vegetation soaking into your body, the air felt fresh from the plants and you would wander the aisles to attempt to learn from the greenhouse workers what they were growing. Curtis simply watched as you started to get braver, ask questions and help with the weeding, just wanting to feel the dirt.

One day you two were sitting under the trees, Curtis nodding off in the warmth, and you were reading a new book out loud to him when you eased the book shut.

“Curtis? I need some water.” You mentioned and his eyes snapped open, pulling himself up to sit. You would have just gone yourself to get it, but you knew he wouldn't allow that. So you stayed there while he pushed to a stand.

“How about a snack to? You haven't eaten much today and I saw them picking the cherry tomatoes when we first came in.” He inquired.

Giving a nod, he soon dipped out of the aisle to get what you asked for and you tilted your head back to relax against the tree trunk. But your peaceful moment was short lived. A shadow passed over you and a snickering voice taunted you to spring your eyes open and pull your legs back. “Well well well, Curtis left his little pet to wander around all alone?” Grey moved to a squat in front of you, a few of his friends crowding around behind him, all leering down at you while you tried to shrink away. Your tongue swelled up, unable to speak. When Grey reached a hand out to touch you, you pulled further away.

“Don’t.” You finally were able to say, causing him to jerk his head back and laugh deeply at your attempt to put space between you two.

“Oh you shouldn't be scared of me, I was your friend on New Years remember? Curtis is the one who beat you, not me.”

You folded your arms around your legs to hold yourself away from him, but Grey wasn't allowing you to shrink away too much, his hand moving to touch your knee, grinning at the way you jerked. “Don't touch me.”

Grey shuffled closer, the men behind him closing in further till the space of the greenhouse seemed to no longer exist.

“You're like a little unsoiled dove, so innocent in all this. I promise you though once I take you, you won't be able to play this act anymore.” Grey said coldly, his gaze glinting with promise as it raked over your face. He was close enough to feel his hot sour breath washing over your face.

The tension stretched between you two and you felt like you were going to snap when a low deep voice came from behind. “Step the fuck back from her.” The group parted enough to show Curtis striding closer the handful of cherry tomatoes in his palm crushed to drip the juices and seeds from between his fingers and the tin cup of water sloshing over the edge as he sped up, pushing past the others to grasp the back of Grey's collar and fling him back. Grey easily straightened, pulling an innocent look as Curtis moved to block you from them. You scrambled to get up, using the back of his shirt to pull yourself to a stand and stay behind him. A barrier between you and Grey.

“I thought I told you not to go near her again?” Curtis’s rage was laced in his tone and Grey shrugged a bit.

“Just saying hello Curtis, I missed seeing your girl since the party.” You eased around Curtis a bit and Grey caught sight of you, aiming a wink towards you. “Till next time Y/N.”

You pressed in behind Curtis, your gaze looking down the aisle to see members of the greenhouse take interest. From afar it would appear to be just a passing of words, and the tremors going through Curtis told you how he was holding back from attacking Grey. If he did, it would all seem unprovoked, Curtis words and yours against Grey and his crowd. It wouldn't end good for Curtis.

Curtis watched long enough to make sure they were out of sight and turned swiftly towards you, wiping his hand against his jacket till the tomato residue was off his palms and touched your face afterwards, tilting you to look up at him. “He didn’t touch you did he?”

A firm shake no answered him and he offered the mug of water which you tilted back to calm your nerves and moisten your mouth. “No Curtis, not really.”

“Son of a bitch.” He clenched his hand at his side, looking over his shoulder again and you reached to press your hand to his chest, bringing his focus back on you.

“Let’s just leave here, please?” Last thing you wanted was Curtis’s anger to sit with him the rest of the day.

He took a deep breath to let it settle in his chest before turning to you blinking up at him and part of him softened. “Come on… Got somewhere else you might like to see.” Wrapping an arm around you, you followed along with him as you two made your way out of the gardens aisle. Your fingers played at his sleeve nervously as you glanced behind once more, but Grey was nowhere to be seen. The silver train door whooshed and crossed into another threshold. Once it closed behind you, you turned your focus to the area Curtis had taken you.

It was filled with wild greenery, and the echoes of songbird calls bounced off the towering glass of the train's ceiling. Your lips split into a grin when you stepped from Curtis hold, your gaze lifted to see brilliant colored birds darting around one another. “I remember coming through here when I was brought to the front, what is its purpose?”

“An aviary, the last birds on earth that we know of.” Curtis informed you, his head tilting back to look up in the treetops crowding against the glass of the train, straining for freedom that would forever be denied them from growing to their full size.

Curtis watched your child like wonder as birds filtered down to land on you, tiny trills and warbles inquiring as they inspected you. You stretched out your arms for other curious birds, hoping down to peck at your palm looking for food. You happened to giggle with the ticklish feeling and to Curtis it was far better then all the songbirds in the aviary.

You were such a light in Curtis’s life now. These kinds of moments where you seemed to forget that you were held against your will but found a reason to laugh, your eyes bright when they looked at him and you danced into a small circle, the birds lifting off of you in a flurry of cries and wings, so you could come back to him excitedly. Curtis couldn't believe that he once saw you as a job, something he had to tolerate.

Now he didn't want anyone else sharing his space with him.

“There were so many Curtis! I didn't know there could be that many on the train…” Your hands fluttered back and forth with your words, rambling about how much you loved the moment, thanking Curtis for bringing you when he cupped your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks and his eyes bright while looking at you. It paused you in surprise as his head lowered against yours and pressed his mouth against yours. This was a different kiss then any he's given you before.

But this was a gentleness that was asking permission, his hold cradling and gentled, slightly rough lips easily pressing against yours and the tip of his tongue just swiping as in a way of saying ‘Please?’

Your hands braced against his chest and slid around behind him, allowing him to swipe in and roll his tongue with yours, pulling you in closer to him till your body was flushed with his own, his hold sliding from your cheeks and sliding down your back. When the two of you parted, foreheads leading against one another, panting slightly.

That kiss simply took the air from your lungs and you could feel it meant something more this time.

More than being forced together or trying to comfort. This one had something behind it. Part of it scared you that maybe this man meant more to you then he had before.

Second Trimester

You sat on the edge of the bed, a hand braced against the curve of your stomach, waiting. Curtis was nearby, nose in a book but he noticed that you had moved up to sit. A curious glance looked over the spine of the book. “Whats going on?” He questioned as you sighed a bit, sliding your hand to another spot, scrunching your nose.

“He was just moving, I swear he was getting ready to kick.” you looked down at your now protruding belly, rolling your shirt up enough to slide your palm against it. “But feels like he has settled down.” Curtis chuckled softly and set the book aside on the table, moving to kneel on the floor before you and ease his hand around the sides, exploring for himself.

“That's because he's decided to treat his mama well.”

You snort a bit and roll your eyes. “More like he's saving it for tonight when I'm trying to sleep.”

Curtis smirked a bit, and rested his hands against your thighs, winking at you. “Well he does take after his dad.”

You shoved at his shoulder with a scoff, leaving Curtis laughing heartily while falling back to rest on his ankles looking up at you. Moments like these he seemed so boyish, his laugh was genuine and rare. But the longer you two lived together, the more you got to hear it. It was a pleasant sound, one that seemed to make you forget for a moment that you two were stuck together in a glorified prison. “We keep calling him he, do you think he is a he?”

Curtis shrugged a bit. “Honestly, boy or girl doesn't matter to me. But yea...I think it's a boy. Just feels right when I think of seeing him for the first time.” He admitted admiring the glimpse of skin showing where your shirt had ridden up.

It was also easier letting him see more of you. It probably helps that during your pregnancy, you had cravings. Serious cravings.

Which even now started to curl in your lower belly and clench your thighs slightly under his hands that still rested against them. He felt it and arched a curious brow as you shyly looked away as if distracted. But he knew, he shuffled in closer and slid his palms warmly back up to your belly. “You know you just have to ask.”

Caught. You knew you were caught and you shifted slightly, twisting your fingers together. “I don't wanna ask though. I mean it's not like your job to have to anymore.”

“Y/N- will you just lay back? You want it and I don't mind giving it.” He instructed, pressing you to lay back on the bed, leaving your legs dangling over the edge of the bed. His hands grasped in the band of your shorts and started to draw them down to leave your lower half naked and you folded your hands together to rest on your stomach, looking down your body to watch Curtis.

“You may not mind, but I still don't want you to feel like you gotta.” You rambled on as he brushed his chin against the top of your thighs to nudge them apart and drew one leg up over his shoulder, brushing a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Your damn kid is making me horny, but I have other ways to handle it whenever-”

Curtis rolled his eyes in amusement to your rambling. Honestly he would be happy taking care of you like this, seeing you pregnant was driving him crazy with want. Knowing he made you need him so much, be able to take care of you and see you satisfied in his bed. Right now nothing was better than seeing you post orgasm bliss. You were still going on above him, but he stopped listening, his goal now to make you forget about feeling guilty for wanting him. Flushing kisses up your thigh and he brought the other one over his shoulder, he heard his name while he dragged the tip of his nose through your curls and to your folds that were starting to glisten with arousal.

“Are you listening, Curtis?” you voiced above him and he snickered a bit while spreading your folds apart and lapping along your quivering cunt, hearing your question turn into a gentle moan.

“I was, but now I'm not Darling, because honestly eating you out is my main priority right now.” He lapped again, sucking on your outer folds and was rewarded with another gasp above him and your hand falling to his head, curling your fingers against his scalp.

“Do that again?” You breathed out and you felt his tongue curl through you once more, just making you pulse and arousal seep from you that he was quick to collect with a growl as he sucked on you. You let your eyes close and mind clear to just the sensations he was creating in you. His fingers massaged the tense muscles inside your thighs as he looped his arms over the top of your thighs and spread them just a bit wider, burying his face in between your legs. He found your clit and proceeded to tease it in just that way that had you arching your hips for him and whimpering into your shoulder till you couldn't keep quiet anymore.

“Oh god Curtis… Curtis…” You started chanting his name while he played with you, continued pressing his tongue in all those places that made your core clench and thighs quiver and strain in his hold trying to clasp around his ears.

“Just let it happen Y/N, why are you holding back?” He teased you, the graze of his cheeks scratching along the inside of your thighs that he released so they clasped around his head and your hands started to press his face into your center. He plunged his tongue into you, teasing your fluttering walls till they were driving you blissed out, rocking into his face till you finally did as he said, letting go and letting your orgasm wash over you till you were floating happily in pleasure, a sigh escaping you as your toes curled into his shoulders then they collapsed over his back, humming out your bliss.

Curtis rolled his shoulders to let your legs fall off, one last lap through your core and a kiss to the top of your mound before he sat back and massaged your thighs till the tension seeped through them. Planting his hands on the mattress to pull to a stand, looming over you as he pushed your shirt up to kiss the curve of your belly.

“Better?” He asked as he fell to the other side of the bed, his hand massaging your hip, the other hand running through his beard and you slid an eye open to see him watching you for an answer.

“Thank you, he's settled down.” Your hand slid over your curve and he mimicked your touch, feeling for himself.

“Perhaps he decided taking a nap was better than being aware of his parents intimate time.” He teased and you covered your face in embarrassment, sighing.

“You are terrible Curtis.”

He snorted with a grin while pushing up to a stand. “That I am. Alright, time for me to go to the gym. Do you need anything before I go Y/N?”

You shook your head while pushing up to a stand yourself and brushing past Curtis to reach into the little fridge to grab an apple. “Nah, I'm good. Afterwards do you think we could go walking somewhere? My back has been killing me and the baths are not helping so much anymore. Walking around seems to help though.”

He gathered what he needed while nodding. “Sure, we will do that when I get back.” Curtis promised before heading out, and you plopped down in the seat he occupied earlier, easing back a bit and picking up the book he had been engrossed with earlier, looking to see where he was. Taking bites of the apple, you suddenly felt the baby start to wriggle again, and this time he gave the kicks you were expecting earlier.

“Oh now you wanna be a wriggler. Apparently your father was wrong, you have been awake.” You chuckled a bit while settling back.

A whoosh of doors announced Wilford as he stepped into the enclosed space off the engine. Humming to himself as his eyes glanced over the screens to different sections of the train. Everyone was right where they needed to be, his eyes glinted gleefully appreciating the order of Snowpiercer. Everything so wonderfully balanced, just as it always has been. He was there god, giving them life. Each one he looked at was absolutely perfect, all constructed by him. Wilford viewed them as stories, each one he could maneuver in the way he wanted. Settling down in his seat, he twisted his chair towards his prize tv screen, the biggest and clearest one.

On the screen was a black and white version of Curtis’s room. So far Wilford had let you and Curtis have moments of domesticity. Let you two get comfortable, sure that your lives were going to continue being peaceful.

Wilford grinned coldly while leaning forward to trace a finger over your form sitting in the chair, singing to your belly.

“That's right Dear… you keep on taking care of my baby so sweetly. You will be the perfect mother to my son.”

#wilfords demands #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett fan fiction #snowpiercer fan fiction #snowpiercer #curtis everett #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #dark curtis everett

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blookmallow · 3 years

Text

hi i binged through all of salad fingers for the first time in like 8 years and im fixating again here are. My Theories. pls talk to me if anyone else has Thoughts or wants to discuss things. this is really long i am sorry :’ )

also shout out to the salad fingers wiki for helping me keep track of details and also for this

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thought: salad fingers is not violent on purpose he did not mean to kill that kid

this is less a theory and more “if you slander my boy with accusations i will Get you” but listen. i see people going “but he mURDERED A CHILD!!” because of the oven incident but listen. listen to me. he didnt mean to and cannot be held to the same standard of morality and understanding consequences as a. person who isn’t..... in whatever situation and mental state he has going on

- yes, the kid getting trapped in the oven was his fault. but it was not intentional or malicious and i sincerely doubt he understands what happened or why.

he was asking for help reaching the fish (there’s no reason to believe he wasn’t just genuinely asking for help. he tears up in gratitude. theres no evidence of him Tricking People Maliciously in any other context i do not believe he would do that) and was distracted by the rusty nail, causing him to let go of the door. it wasn’t “he cares more about rust than about a child’s life” or something, i dont think he can actually hold “hey look at that i gotta check that out” and “i need to hold the door open so the child doesn’t get hurt” in his head at the same time, rust is his favorite stim/an impulse thing that takes over everything else and his perception of reality and the things going on around him changes very quickly and easily. more on that later. but the important point here is it wasn’t a malicious plot, or a neglectful careless action, he literally did not realize letting go of the door would cause harm

he stabbed himself accidentally with the nail and passed out for a while (the fact that he immediately bled that much is concerning too, he probably has hemophilia which is. a medical condition outside of his control, as well) and after all that he had completely forgotten about the child altogether (and says “i must have dozed off” so he doesn’t even understand he passed out. and might not remember the nail thing in the first place)

we don’t see what happened after this, we don’t know how he responds when he investigates the fish and inevitably finds an unexpected charred corpse in there, but i guarantee he won’t remember why its in there or understand that its a corpse. we dont see it again so its. entirely possible he didnt recognize it as a person and either just disposed of it or, uh, ate it. but if he did, it wasn’t with the knowledge and comprehension of it being A Corpse or the memory of how it got there

theory: on salad fingers and memory / comprehension of death and consequences

more on that subject

- we see him frequently doing things and then immediately forgetting he did it or forgetting what was happening. he accidentally squishes the bug (which also was not malicious or intentional, he intended to pet it but just. went too hard) and has no understanding either that its dead, or that he killed it. she has gone flat and gooey for some unknown reason. that’s strange. she needs to go have a wash, that’s no way to be.

he eats the jeremy fisher puppet at one point and then immediately goes “where have you gotten to??”

he even briefly forgets hubert cumberdale’s name and immediately comes up with another one without realizing it, and then later goes back to hubert cumberdale again with no mention of barbara logan-price

he refers to the same little yellow guy as “young child” and also Auntie Bainbridge later on. he keeps up the fantasy of... whatever the fuck yvonne was being his child for a pretty long time but then when he arrives at “auntie bainbridge” ‘s house he suddenly forgets why he’s there, and even apparently forgets what yvonne is and uses ‘her’ as a window rag instead and never mentions it again (I also don’t think she was in the sandwich at the end either. it’s hard to see but the sandwich contents are vaguely brown and theres a visible lump in the black goo behind him. i like the idea that the lil yellow guy made the sandwich for him)

salad fingers is constantly subconsciously adjusting his reality to fit Whatever Makes The Most Sense At The Time and does not consistently remember things (sometimes even major things. he remembers his puppets the most consistently and still even forgets hubert’s name) or have a concept of cause and effect

i think he possibly has some sense of recognition, “I’ve seen this person before,” but doesn’t always remember Why he knows them, and his mind just automatically fills in the blank with whatever makes sense to him. he doesn’t remember who the yellow guy is, but knows he knows them Somehow, so, ah, of course, it must be auntie bainbridge out for her sunday stroll :) and he knows he’s there for a reason, but not what that reason was, so he decides it must be time to clean the windows

- milford cubicle was already dead when salad fingers opens the door, but he has no idea that hes dead. this isn’t even a cause for concern. my, he must be tired, that’s all. he kept milford there until he rotted away, too, so there was never a point where he realized anything was wrong (until he became skeleton. more on That later too)

- he finds a corpse buried in the yard and rather than confronting the confusing and alarming reality of that situation, why it must be kenneth, back from the great war! at no point does he understand kenneth is definitely dead

theory: kenneth vs glass brother

i think he really did have a brother named kenneth who probably died in the war. could be some subconscious connection between “recognizing” a corpse as his brother, but i dont think he realizes any of that. i think the glass family is probably a trauma based hallucination, but a... well, reflection. pun not exactly intended lmao. on how his real family was and how they treated him

i dont think glass brother is the same brother as kenneth, since salad fingers interacts with them completely differently

kenneth is a corpse that salad fingers projects a personality on and speaks for, while glass brother seems independent and malicious toward him. i think he had a good relationship with kenneth (so, when salad fingers imagines that he’s here, it’s cause for celebration and he’s projecting onto something inert and “safe”) and also had another brother (who was probably his twin) who bullied him and acted violently, so when that trauma resurfaces, he hallucinates a vicious Other that he cannot control or speak for.

it also tracks that the abusive brother was his twin - he sees himself reflected in the mirror, and something in his own face reminds him of that lost brother until it “becomes” him

he refers to kenneth as his younger brother, and sees him as a being that does not look like him, while glass brother is literally his reflection, so it would make sense if he had one identical twin and one younger brother

ive seen theories that he had a real sister named bordois too, but i think him calling the bug “little sister” was just. a term of endearment or one of his little odd language quirks, he seemed to be talking to it more like a pet than like a sibling

theory: regarding mable

- ok people are saying salad fingers killed mable at the picnic but i Really Don’t Think He Did

we never see him acting out violently when he gets scared. he tends to try to escape situations that stress him out, he shrinks, he cries, he goes into his cupboard (which is. incredibly upsetting given the fact he was almost definitely abused by his family)

he takes on a kind of Authoritative Tone often, he gets sort of ruffled up and disdainful toward things, but that’s not what he does when he’s scared

when he’s actually distressed (rather than irritated) he tends to break down and retreat. this includes when other independent beings act in ways that unsettle and upset him

so i dont know where the “he freaked out and killed her” idea is coming from. he suddenly goes from outside at the picnic to having a breakdown in his house so. he most likely just ran

i think the Only time we see him act out violently is when he decides he has to punish marjory for not getting a haircut like he asked - he tears her hair out, but for me that scene was particularly concerning because it was so unlike him. that was an anger response, not a fear response, though, and he tends to be harsher toward things that he’s actually controlling (I don’t think we ever see him decide to Discipline something that was independent from him other than the horses, and he didnt hurt them)

ordinarily when something irritates him he just goes “hmph! so distasteful. how rude. i shan’t have this behavior, you know” but doesn’t really actually do anything about it, and moves on

anyway we never see mable again so i think either he freaked out and ran away and she just didn’t come back, or he scared her and she ran away, or both

there’s a dress visible briefly when salad fingers is making his Flesh Boy which could be mable’s (he did comment he liked it) but it’s not 100% clear, and that doesn’t necessarily mean he KILLED her for it. she could have changed into something else and left it somewhere and he found it. she could have died under unrelated circumstances, and salad fingers found her - he doesn’t comprehend death, so. probably he decided they’ve made amends now and she’s given him her dress as a token of friendship, or something

i dont think it really looks that significantly like hers but the fact that it stands out so distinctly from the rest of the Pile could mean something

but i just feel like if he had killed her we would’ve seen her corpse again, he doesn’t have a concept of murder, or death at all, or consequences, and his memory doesn’t hold out that consistently, so if he killed her, he probably would have calmed down later and then forgotten what he did and came up with a new way to explain the corpse in front of him - oh, how rude of me, mable’s here dozing right off and i havent even offered her a blanket. let’s get you to bed

like, he probably would have dragged her home with him, with the intention of being a good friend/host to his guest, not understanding what happened. he kept milford cubicle around a really long time

it wouldn’t be like him to have any concept of hiding the evidence

speaking of milford

theory: regarding milford cubicle

salad fingers keeps milford’s corpse around until it starts rotting, and then after a very confusing series of events, the corpse is suddenly a skeleton, which surprisingly alarms salad fingers considerably, and then he goes out to find a whole bunch of himselves eating various bits of gore. they give him a present, which is a hat very clearly made of milford’s skin

my conclusion: salad fingers, in some kind of dissociative fugue state, skinned and ate the remains of milford cubicle himself and turned the remaining skin into a hat. he also saves some of it to make hubert cumberdale (the real boy) later as well, probably forgetting where it came from. he does not realize he’s done this or remember doing it, so his scrambled mind tries to make sense of it with other selves eating unknown flesh, and a lovely hat appearing (which he doesn’t seem to notice is made of flesh)

you can also see milford’s original name tag in the drawer later on when he’s building the flesh boy, so. he kept that after the mysterious disappearance of milford’s flesh, apparently. more evidence that that skin is probably also his

some other scattered thoughts regarding the most recent string of episodes and salad fingers’ mental state:

ive been trying to figure out what the fuckhell happened with the yvonne incident and everything that happened in the birthday episode

im really concerned for salad fingers’ health and mental state, as it seems to be deteriorating

some yvonne theories ive seen:

1. he ate the burned corpse of the kid who died in the oven, and it made him very sick, which ultimately resulted in a charred mass he couldn’t digest - he steadily gets worse, until his body finally ejects it (yvonne’s “birth”) and after that his health starts to recover again. since the oven incident happens really early on, all the times he mentions his stomach being upset after that until he becomes deathly ill would make sense, so i think this is plausible

2. the hair he found in the cupboard was actually a parasitic worm that grew in his stomach after he ate it and became yvonne. i think this is Possible, it is a really strangely wormy looking hair, but it doesn’t move and he mentions stomach pains before this, so it seems less likely to me

3. i also saw the concept that salad fingers is a trans man who suffered a miscarriage at some point in his past and yvonne represents that, and i can definitely see where the idea is coming from but i do think something really physically happened to him in the present time, i dont think it was all a trauma-based hallucination, since the yellow guy reacts to the black ooze and something was definitely making him severely ill

so. i Don’t Know what the fuck that was about but i think the burnt corpse theory makes the most sense

on that note: there’s a lot of cannibalism imagery in salad fingers

we have no IDEA where he’s getting food from. im pretty sure its been confirmed that he is Not a zombie, we see him bleed, pass out, sleep, etc so it seems like he must be a living person who has ordinary needs. but we see him eat... his own puppets. hairs. sand. the soup glass mother instructed him to make, which made him very sick. he has a working oven but doesn’t seem to have consistent access to water. he had a fish somehow but who knows where it came from. it’s very likely he doesn’t get food often and some of his hallucinations and mood swings could be caused by starvation (and when he does eat, it’s things that are outright inedible or probably not good for him)

the burned corpse disappears and is never mentioned again (though salad fingers is very sick afterward). milford’s flesh disappears and salad fingers violently hallucinates multiple selves gorging themselves on unknown flesh

and what concerns me the most about that is that he loses a lot of time in that episode

he passes out in the woods and when he wakes up, it looks like a shit ton of time has passed

we don’t know how much is reality and how much is his warped perception, but it looks like a tree has grown and his physical condition has deteriorated

he looks really, really unhealthy and haggard for the rest of the episode

i think he had a huge dissociative episode and lost possibly weeks of time, probably due to starvation, and he ate milford cubicle and very possibly other people as well

so my question is. how often does this happen to him

and what happens to him during that state? does he become violent and dangerous without being aware of it when he returns to himself again? or has he just been ravenously scavenging corpses when he gets desperate enough?

its possible dr papanak is another personality he has, one that’s “buried out in the woods” that he becomes when he’s in a really, really bad mental and physical state

he looks much better in the next episode (though that’s also when he has his outburst with marjory. could be that he’s still staving off the violent urges/hasn’t fully come back to himself after the last incident) and I’m really hoping the fact that he was able to finally stand up to his family (at least in some sense) and smash the mirrors could mean he’s making steps toward recovery after whatever the hell all that was

there’s not really much space to do anything with his life or get much help given the circumstances but watching him slowly losing himself even more is Awful :(

i hope we get more episodes im so desperate for more information now

lastly, some random observations

i tried to read this newspaper and it looks like it’s actually written in french, which is interesting given that salad fingers seems to be british (but fond of france, and seems to speak french or at least knows one phrase)

i wonder where he got this, or whether it ever meant something significant to him

theres a lot of evidence that he can’t read (takes no notice of the “harry” nametag and immediately names him something else, “reads” a letter that is actually a newspaper clipping in another language he’s holding upside down, “writes” a letter that is just scribbles) so i dont think he learned his one french phrase from this or anything but, still. vaguely interesting. maybe he has been to france before and brought this back with him for some reason. maybe he’s actually in post apocalyptic france and was just originally from england. We Don’t Know

theres a weird little face in the. heater? whatever that is in the background for a second and i dont like it

salad fingers leaves horace in charge, but then sees him (as a live horse) in the woods, but then comes back to find him both still on the shelf (as a toy) and in the room (as a live horse, now with his, uh, surgery scars) but doesn’t seem to notice this and doesn’t comment on it

i dont know what the hell that means other than possibly his reality is even less consistent and logical than usual/a reflection on his mental state deteriorating

#salad fingers #pinned #media analysis

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

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Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 13

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: Future you, r u okkkk

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

You stared at Bucky and the gentleman who was with him named Sam Wilson, completely dumbfounded; as if they both had three heads. They were seated across from you, Bucky with a glass of water, and Sam with a bottle of beer in his hand. Sam was just finishing his beer, as well as his speech about his business proposal which had to do with you taking photos of his new products, and models.

Bucky introduced Sam as a long-time friend and an owner of a sporting fit apparel named The Falcons. The name did ring a bell as soon as you heard it. You suddenly remembered passing through it while you and Bucky were strolling down Fifth Street, vaguely telling you about a friend who owned it and six other stores scattered in California, Chicago, London, and Australia (and was planning to branch out more in Asian countries); and here he was right in front of you, hiring you as a photographer for his big-time business.

Sam didn't give you a sliver of time to intervene with his flawless little speech he had committed to memory, as he spoke so fast. Some words were even incomprehensible to you — or perhaps it was just because the world was still whirling around you, given the prior event that just took place.

And now this.

You tried to give Bucky some kind of signal by giving him a look but he encouraged Sam further and urged you to listen to his proposal.

"So, y/n..." Sam rested his hands on the wooden table, his attention solely focused on you. "What do you think?"

If only you could tell him the truth that your mind was completely blank, you would. But you didn't want to embarrass yourself or Bucky for that matter, so you just gave him a smile and did the first thing you could think of. "Mr. Wilson — "

"Oh, you can just call me Sam. There's no need for formalities."

You nodded. "Sam... Do you mind if I have a little discussion with Bucky? It will just take a moment."

Sam leaned back on the cushioned couch of the booth and nodded. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

You didn't give Bucky the time to question why so you immediately stood up, grabbed Bucky's hand from across the booth and dragged his body towards one of the closets the bar rarely used. You closed the door behind you, and switched the light on. Even with the small lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, the inside of the closet still looked dingy, and the dust crawling on the walls and flying in the tight air space were clearly evident.

"Bucky, what the hell is going on?"

"Isn't it great?"

You smacked his arm. "Steve just told me he's getting me fired so that I can focus on my career as a photographer."

"That's even greater!"

You smacked his arm harder this time. "I'm not done." You hissed. "He's giving me one week to figure things out and then I'm fired. If I don't have shit figured out in that one week, I'm not gonna be able to pay for bills. Did you say something to Steve when you came here this morning? Don't lie to me, James."

He was rubbing his arm, brows furrowed. "I told him nothing."

"You showed him the photos I took last night. What was that all about?"

He sighed in defeat. "I just made him realize that you needed to be out there and not stuck here. You said it yourself, y/n, you're stuck in a rut and the only way to get yourself moving is to break from that routine. To go out there and explore the world."

"And then you just swoop in and bring your friend?"

"Yes."

"So, Steve just happens to realize that I needed to go out there and explore the world, and then it just so happens that your friend needs someone to photograph for his business?" You scoffed. "Bucky, do you expect me to believe that this is just one big coincidence? That you're not the one pulling all the strings in this little weird puppet show?"

"Yes, okay, I may have done something about those, said something, but — "

"Oh my god, you can't do that." You had the urge to get some air, and to pace back and forth as you tried to put your thoughts into words, but the space felt tighter the more you spoke. "You can't just walk into people's lives and, and... control everything! This is not just about chasing a dream, this is also about survival. I'm not rich like you. I don't have a safety net when things fall apart. You... You can't put all your trust in me."

"Well, someone needs to." Bucky sternly answered. "And if that someone should be me then so be it."

"I don't even know why you're going to great lengths for me." You looked down on the floor. "I... I don't get it, Bucky. I don't get you at all."

"Hey, hey, hey, listen to me, doll." His hands made contact with your skin, lifting your face to look at his blue eyes. "I apologize for taking things too far, I guess I could act so rash as well but I just wanted to do what I know is right and what would make you happy. Seeing you last night was... heartbreaking."

"So, you pity me." You sighed. "Everybody does."

"Call it what you want, y/n. But people who pity you won't ever believe in you and in what you do. But here I am putting all my trust in you. Your boss Steve does too. And Sam." A smile formed on his lips, making the insides of you flip.

"Your friend Sam sounds like a big deal and he hasn't even seen my photos. How can he trust me to do all this for him?"

"I put my word in for you. I told him if I was wrong, then to hell with me. And if you're worried about people assisting you during the shoot, don't. Sam has people all over and he just needs your beautiful eyes and hands and brain." He laughed. "Sam's a good guy and you're not going to be working for some big corporation. I know you hate those. This is perfect for you, trust me. And right now, all I need you to do is say yes to Sam, say yes to me, and most especially say yes to yourself. Please?"

The atmosphere became lighter, and the room didn't feel that tight any longer. His flattering words forever engraved in your mind. His warm hands stayed on both sides of your face, his face pleading.

You sighed and nodded your head slowly, finally convinced. "Okay, yes."

A grin started to crawl to his face and for a moment, his face drew closer to yours. "Okay, good. Now let's get out of here and tell Sam the good news."

You nodded but a touch of disappointment came, as Bucky's hands left your face. You never knew the presence of Bucky's skin against yours was one thing you could miss. You didn't even know if you should.

As soon as you sat down, you told Sam the good news and quickly ordered a bottle of champagne. You were supposed to get it for them but Bucky told you to sit down and let loose for a while, so you did.

Nat approached the booth with the cold champagne, and some glasses. She bent down and whispered to you, "You better tell me what's going on here. I wanna hear everything."

Sure, she did. Nat always wanted to. When it comes to water cooler gossip or any kind of gossip for that matter, Nat always wanted to dig her nose into other people's stuff. With a wink and a slight sway on the hips, she retreated to the counter and took more of people's orders. Beside her, you noticed Nick steal a glance in your direction but was averted away by people trying to get their drinks.

"Alright, let's toast." Sam declared. Bucky was just finishing filling yours when you focused your attention back at the two gentlemen in front of you. You thanked Bucky and mirrored Sam as he raised his glass. Bucky followed, his eyes with a luster glaze on you. "To new partners, beginnings, and to y/n."

"Thank you, Sam." You laughed, clinking your glasses. "And to Bucky, for trusting me enough to do this."

"To Bucky who wouldn't leave me alone until I said yes." Sam replied, emptying his glass.

You gave Bucky a look and shook your head. Being the cheeky man he was, the ends of his lips curved slightly which triggered the beat of your heart. The sudden changes you have been feeling when it came to Bucky have been scaring you but it wasn't a "bad scary"; it was the kind that excited everything inside you. A thrilling feeling that left you wanting more.

At the taste of the sprinkling cold champagne, for a moment, you were brought back to last night's events. A montage-like of red, blue and white lights illuminating the street, Howard waiting in the limousine, Wandavision, and then Bucky. After that, it was just Bucky's presence beside you and as you looked back at him, all you could think about was his soft warm lips pressed on your forehead. The entirety of it felt like you were living a dream — there were parts you couldn't remember and parts that you could, and the latter were just the ones you kept replaying in mind (even with Bucky in front of you), trying to imbue this dream-like memory and convince yourself that it was a memory.

Nat's voice pulled you out of your thoughts (and boy, were you thankful for it). "Hey, your shift's almost ending." She reminded you, passing by the booth, then turned to face Bucky and Sam. "Anything you want from the menu, boys?"

"No, thank you." Bucky replied then turned to you. "We should also be heading up."

"Oh." Nat's change in voice was so evident that you wanted to pull her out of here as soon as possible. "You guys are heading up, huh?" She teased, her eyes now on you.

"It's not what you think." You said. "He's just looking after me. Parker's gone to some corporate retreat for a week."

"Man, you're a babysitter!" Sam butted in, punching Bucky's arm lightly. "Oh, I can't believe this."

"No, I'm not."

"You can't even take care of your damn self, how are you gonna take care of her?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"He's actually taking good care of me." You said, looking at Bucky.

"I'm sure he is." Nat chuckled which made you step on her foot. She cleared her throat in response.

"Anyway, I gotta go say goodbye to Steve." You said, standing up. "Hey Nat, do you want me to say hi to him for you?"

With her mouth slightly open, and eyes furrowed, she replied very slowly. "No."

You smirked. "Okay then."

You headed towards Steve's office, leaving Nat stunned in her place. Steve's office was slightly open so you didn't bother knocking and just went inside. "Hey, Steve. I'm off for tonight."

"Sure." He replied. "Hey, about earlier."

"What about it?"

"I'm doing it because I truly believe in you." He smiled. "And your new friend Bucky does so too."

You smiled at him right back. "Yes, Steve. Thank you."

"Take care, y/n."

"You too, boss!"

And with that, you headed towards the booth where Bucky and Sam were.

Out on the side of the street, the three of you parted ways, Sam hailing a cab and you and Bucky heading towards the apartment building. Once the elevator doors opened, you stepped inside and was greeted by its metallic smell.

"Hey, Bucky?" You said, quickly grabbing his attention. "T-thank you for this and for basically everything you've done for me for the past few days."

"Please, you don't have to thank me for this. I'm just really glad I'll be able to help you."

"And I promise once I get my shit done, have money and everything, I'm gonna pay you back — "

"Hey, hey, hey." He cut you off. "Who said anything about paying me back? You don't have to do that, okay?"

"But I feel like this is all too much, like, there's this thing tying me to you."

"Is that a bad thing?" He asked.

"When it comes to money, yeah kinda. And you've bought me all kinds of stuff — "

"Y/n, just..." He sighed. "You don't have to do or say anything. You don't have to worry about paying me back and even if you will, I won't ever ever accept it. Can we leave it at that?"

You sighed in response, the little ding! right on time. "Yeah, okay."

By the time you got in the apartment, you practically ran towards your room because of how exhausted you were but before you could even open the door, there was one more thing you needed to do.

"Bucky?"

“Yes?”

"I-I'm sorry again about last night and no," he was about to do his face whenever he cuts you off, "please, don't cut me off, let me finish."

Bucky walked towards you, his back facing Peter's room.

"This is about what I said... when I asked you to, uh, kiss me. You were right to stop me. I was drunk, sad and vulnerable and the moment wasn't right. It wasn't right. I would have regretted it the next day and would be so ashamed to face you. I might actually avoid you for a month." You sighed. "I'm really sorry you had to see that side of me. A kiss at that moment would be really inappropriate. When we — if we ever do, um, it wouldn't be like that... just like what you said. You said that right? You said, and I quote, not like this. 'Cause I keep hearing your voice saying that in my head." Bucky nodded, affirming it. "Okay. Um, yeah so in conclusion... I am sorry."

He slowly smiled, nodding his head. "You make a lot of speeches."

"Yeah, I'm the queen when it comes to it."

"And apology accepted, of course."

You warmed up with a smile. "Okay, thank you. Good night."

“Good night, doll."

Once you turned around, you felt a strong force on your arm, spinning your body which then collided with Bucky's, together with his lips crashing on yours.

It was like an impulse you couldn't avoid: for you to close your eyes, to move your lips in his rhythm, and to savor his breath. He tasted like cold champagne, and mint, with a hint of coffee. His lips, luscious, warm and soft; you were afraid of tearing them apart with your teeth. He kissed you with all the fervor of a lover. A lover talked about in books, movies, in fairytales.

Bucky's hands found their way around your hips, pulling you closer towards his body, while you rested yours on the sides of his face, pulling every inch of him, craving more of him. Slowly, you opened your eyes and tore your faces only an inch apart, foreheads touching. Lips empty but still hungry. You stayed right where you were; You never dared move an inch and so did he. You were still like statues. The only movement was the rapid rise and fall of your breathing.

Bucky's hands slid from your waist. You felt his fingers on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing your lower lip and giving it a small, passionate kiss.

"Just like this, doll." He whispered. "Just like this."

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yamayuandadu · 3 years

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Circe by Madeline Miller: a review

As you might have noticed, a few of my most recent posts were more or less a liveblog of Madeline Miller’s novel Circe. However, as they hardly exhausted the subject, a proper review is also in order. You can find it under the “read more” button. All sorts of content warnings apply because this book takes a number of turns one in theory can expect from Greek mythology but which I’d hardly expect to come up in relation to Circe. I should note that this is my first contact with this author’s work. I am not familiar with Miller’s more famous, earlier novel Song of Achilles - I am not much of an Iliad aficionado, truth to be told. I read the poem itself when my literature class required it, but it left no strong impact on me, unlike, say, the Epic of Gilgamesh or, to stay within the theme of Greek mythology, Homeric Hymn to Demeter, works which I read at a similar point in my life on my own accord.

What motivated me to pick up this novel was the slim possibility that for once I’ll see my two favorite Greek gods in fiction, these being Hecate and Helios (in case you’re curious: #3 is Cybele but I suspect that unless some brave soul will attempt to adapt Nonnus’ Dionysiaca, she’ll forever be stuck with no popcultural presence outside Shin Megami Tensei). After all, it seemed reasonable to expect that Circe’s father will be involved considering their relationship, while rarely discussed in classical sources, seems remarkably close. Hesiod’s Catalogue of Women and Apollonius’ Argonautica describe Circe arriving on her island in her father’s solar chariot, while Ptolemy Hephaestion (as quoted by Photius) notes that Helios protected her home during the Gigantomachy. Helios, for all intents and purposes, seems like a decent dad (and, in Medea’s case, grandpa) in the source material even though his most notable children (and granddaughter) are pretty much all cackling sorcerers, not celebrated heroes. How does Miller’s Helios fare, compared to his mythical self? Not great, to put it lightly, as you’ll see later. As for Hecate… she’s not even in the book. Let me preface the core of the review by saying I don’t think reinterpreting myths, changing relations between figures, etc. is necessarily bad - ancient authors did it all the time, and modern adaptations will inevitably do so too, both to maintain internal coherence and perhaps to adjust the stories to a modern audience, much like ancient authors already did. I simply don’t think this book is successful at that. The purpose of the novel is ostensibly to elevate Circe above the status of a one-dimensional minor antagonist - but to accomplish this, the author mostly demonizes her family and a variety of other figures, so the net result is that there are more one dimensional female villains, not less. I expected the opposite, frankly. The initial section of the novel focuses on Circe’s relationship with her family, chiefly with her father. That’s largely uncharted territory in the source material - to my knowledge no ancient author seemed particularly interested in covering this period in her life. Blank pages of this sort are definitely worth filling. To begin with, Helios is characterized as abusive, neglectful and power-hungry. And also, for some reason, as Zeus’ main titan ally in the Titanomachy - a role which Hesiod attributes to Hecate… To be fair I do not think it’s Hesiod who serves as the primary inspiration here, as it’s hard to see any traces of his account - in which Zeus wins in no small part because he promises the lesser titans higher positions that they had under Cronus - in Miller’s version of events. Only Helios and Oceanus keep their share, and are presented as Zeus’ only titan allies (there’s a small plot hole as Selene appears in the novel and evidently still is the moon…) - contrary to just about any portrayal of the conflict, in which many titans actually side with Zeus and his siblings. Also, worth noting that in Hesiod’s version it’s not Oceanus himself who cements the pact with Zeus, it’s his daughter Styx - yes, -that- Styx. Missed opportunity to put more focus on female mythical figures - first of many in this work, despite many reviews praising it as “feminist.” Of course, it’s not all about Helios. We are quickly introduced to a variety of female characters as well (though, as I noted above, none of these traditionally connected to the Titanomachy despite it being a prominent aspect of the book’s background). They are all somewhat repetitive - to the point of being basically interchangeable. Circe’s mother is vain and cruel; so is Scylla. And Pasiphae. There’s no real indication of any hostility between Circe and any of her siblings in classical sources, as far as I am aware, but here it’s a central theme. The subplots pertaining to it bear an uncanny resemblance to these young adult novels in which the heroine, who is Not Like Other Girls, confronts the Chads and Stacies of the world, and I can’t shake off the feelings that it’s exactly what it is, though with superficial mythical flourish on top. I should note that Pasiphae gets a focus arc of sorts - which to my surprise somehow manages to be more sexist than the primary sources. A pretty famous tidbit repeated by many ancient authors is that Pasiphae cursed her husband Minos, regarded as unfaithful, to kill anyone else he’d have sex with with his… well, bodily fluids. Here she does it entirely because she’s a debased sadist and not because unfaithfulness is something one can be justifiably mad about. You’d think it would be easy to put a sympathetic spin on this. But the book manages to top that in the very same chapter - can’t have Pasiphae without the Minotaur (sadly - I think virtually everything else about Pasiphae and Minos is more fun than that myth but alas) so in a brand new twist on this myth we learn that actually the infamous affair wasn’t a curse placed on Pasiphae by Poseidon or Aphrodite because of some transgression committed by Minos. She’s just wretched like that by nature. I’m frankly speechless, especially taking into account the book often goes out of its way to present deities in the worst light possible otherwise, and which as I noted reviews praise for its feminist approach - I’m not exactly sure if treating Pasiphae worse than Greek and Roman authors did counts as that. I should note this is not the only instance of… weirdly enthusiastic references to carnal relations between gods and cattle in this book, as there’s also a weird offhand mention of Helios being the father of his own cows. This, as far as I can tell, is not present in any classical sources and truth to be told I am not a huge fan of this invention. I won’t try to think about the reason behind this addition to maintain my sanity. Pasiphae aside - the author expands on the vague backstory Circe has in classical texts which I’ve mentioned earlier. You’d expect that her island would be a gift from her father - after all many ancient sources state that he provided his children and grandchildren with extravagant gifts. However, since Helios bears little resemblance to his mythical self, Aeaea is instead a place of exile here, since Helios hates Circe and Zeus is afraid of witchcraft and demands such a solution (the same Zeus who, according to Hesiod, holds Hecate in high esteem and who appeared with her on coins reasonably commonly… but hey, licentia poetica, this idea isn’t necessarily bad in itself). Witchcraft is presented as an art exclusive to Helios’ children here - Hecate is nowhere to be found, it’s basically as if her every role in Greek mythology was surgically removed. A bit of a downer, especially since at least one text - I think Ovid’s Metarphoses? - Circe directly invokes Hecate during her confrontation with king Picus (Surprisingly absent here despite being a much more fitting antagonist for Circe than many of the characters presented as her adversaries in this novel…) Of course, we also learn about the origin of Circe’s signature spell according to ancient sources, changing people into animals. It actually takes the novel a longer while to get there, and the invented backstory boils down to Circe getting raped. Despite ancient Greek authors being rather keen on rape as plot device, to my knowledge this was never a part of any myth about Circe. Rather odd decision to put it lightly but I suppose at least there was no cattle involved this time, perhaps two times was enough for the author. Still, I can’t help but feel like much like many other ideas present in this book it seems a bit like the author’s intent is less elevating the Circe above the role of a one note witch antagonist, but rather punishing her for being that. The fact she keeps self loathing about her origin and about not being human doesn’t exactly help to shake off this feeling. This impression that the author isn’t really fond of Circe being a wacky witch only grows stronger when Odysseus enters the scene. There was already a bit of a problem before with Circe’s life revolving around love interests before - somewhat random ones at that (Dedalus during the Pasiphae arc and Hermes on and off - not sure what the inspiration for either of these was) - but it was less noticeable since it was ultimately in the background and the focus was the conflict between Circe and Helios, Pasiphae, etc. In the case of Odysseus it’s much more notable because these subplots cease to appear for a while. As a result of meeting him, Circe decides she wants to experience the joys of motherhood, which long story short eventually leads to the birth of Telegonus, who does exactly what he was famous for. The final arcs have a variety of truly baffling plot twists which didn’t really appeal to me, but which I suppose at least show a degree of creativity - better than just turning Helios’ attitude towards his children upside down for sure. Circe ends up consulting an oc character who I can only describe as “stingray Cthulhu.” His presence doesn’t really add much, and frankly it feels like yet another wasted opportunity to use Hecate, but I digress. Oh, also in another twist Athena is recast as the villain of the Odyssey. Eventually Circe gets to meet Odysseus’ family, for once interacts with another female character on positive terms (with Penelope, to be specific) and… gets together with Telemachus, which to be fair is something present in many ancient works but which feels weird here since there was a pretty long passage about Odysseus describing him as a child to Circe. I think I could live without it. Honestly having her get together with Penelope would feel considerably less weird, but there are no lesbians in the world of this novel. It would appear that the praise for Song of Achilles is connected to the portrayal of gay relationships in it. Can’t say that this applies to Circe - on this front we have an offhand mention of Hyacinth's death. which seems to serve no real purpose other than establishing otherwise irrelevant wind god is evil, and what feels like an advert for Song of Achilles courtesy of Odysseus, which takes less than one page. Eventually Circe opts to become mortal to live with Telemachus and denounces her father and… that’s it. This concludes the story of Circe. I don’t exactly think the original is the deepest or greatest character in classical literature, but I must admit I’d rather read about her wacky witch adventures than about Miller’s Circe. A few small notes I couldn’t fit elsewhere: something very minor that bothered me a lot but that to be honest I don’t think most readers will notice is the extremely chaotic approach to occasional references to the world outside Greece - Sumer is randomly mentioned… chronologically after Babylon and Assyria, and in relation to Persians (or rather - to Perses living among them). At the time we can speak of “Persians” Sumerian was a dead language at best understood by a few literati in the former great cities of Mesopotamia so this is about the same as if a novel about Mesopotamia mentioned Macedonians and then completely randomly Minoans at a chronologically later point. Miller additionally either confused or conflated Perses, son of Perseus, who was viewed positively and associated with Persia (so positively that Xerxes purportedly tried to use it for propaganda purposes!) with Perses the obscure brother of Circe et. al, who is a villain in an equally obscure myth casting Medea as the heroine, in which he rules over “Tauric Chersonese,” the Greek name of a part of Crimea. I am honestly uncertain why was he even there as he amounts to nothing in the book, and there are more prominent minor children of Helios who get no mention (like Aix or Phaeton) so it’s hard to argue it was for the sake of completion. Medea evidently doesn’t triumph over him offscreen which is his sole mythical purpose. Is there something I liked? Well, I’m pretty happy Selene only spoke twice, considering it’s in all due likeness all that spared her from the fate of receiving similarly “amazing” new characterization as her brother. As is, she was… okay. Overall I am definitely not a fan of the book. As for its purported ideological value? It certainly has a female main character. Said character sure does have many experiences which are associated with women. However, I can’t help but think that the novel isn’t exactly feminist - it certainly focuses on Circe, but does it really try to “rehabilitate” her? And is it really “rehabilitation” and feminist reinterpretation when almost every single female character in the book is the same, and arguably depicted with even less compassion than in the source material? It instead felt like the author’s goal is take away any joy and grandeur present in myths, and to deprive Circe of most of what actually makes her Circe. We don’t need to make myths joyless to make them fit for a new era. It’s okay for female characters to be wacky one off villains and there’s no need to punish them for it. A book which celebrates Circe for who she actually is in the Odyssey and in other Greek sources - an unapologetic and honestly pretty funny character - would feel much more feminist to me that a book where she is a wacky witch not because she feels like it but because she got raped, if you ask me.

Circe evidently having the time of her life, by Edmund Dulac (public domain)

#circe #madeline miller #greek mythology #madeline miller circe

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remmushound · 3 years

Text

Beyond the Bay Chapter 10: Whats up with Yoshi?

Summary: While Raphael tries to calm down with the help of Splinter, Donnie has a talk with Leonardo about Yoshi.

Tags: @selfindulgenz @digitl-art-monstr @ilo-artistry @brightlotusmoon @rottmnt-addict

Leonardo stood up just as suddenly as Raphael had, leaving his plate at the table as he stormed out of the kitchen.

“Leo!” Donatello was the next to stand, hurrying after his brother.

Michelangelo didn't react. He just as stiff and speechless as his guests were. His expression broke. His lip began quivering as he tucked into himself and started to cry. Tears came heavy and fast; Raph was the quickest out of his seat and ushered to the box turtle’s comfort, wrapping Michelangelo in arms as big as he was. Michelangelo leaned into the hug, resting his head against Raph’s neck and curling his body into a tight ball that the older shinobi could easily embrace.

“Perhaps we… overstepped our bounds…” Splinter said slowly, his eyes holding nothing but patient understanding toward the young teen. “I apologize for causing such emotional distress…”

Michelangelo wanted to respond, but the tears wouldn’t stop to let the words through. Instead, he just leaned his weight further into his friend to hide away from the world.

***

Raphael needed to calm down. He needed to breathe and think somewhere away from questions, even the ones left unsaid. His hands were shaking too badly for the accuracy needed to knit, and when he had tried all he succeeded in doing was clacking the needles together and making nothing more than a tangled wad of yarn. Busywork always seemed to help, so that’s what he fell to doing. He settled on making up Michelangelo’s room for the brotherly sleepover that Michelangelo was so excited for. It would be cramped quarters, but he was sure they could all fit in Michelangelo’s race car bed with a little maneuvering; Raphael even had his own rubber sleeper shell so his spikes wouldn’t hurt them in the night! The bed had been a birthday gift from Donatello the previous year, and Michelangelo himself had handled the decorations of the wooden frame. As one would expect, it was just as vibrant as Mikey was.

There came a gentle knock at the open door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Splinter said in that soft, humble voice of his.

“Uh… n-no, just some... “ Raphael let out a long breath and motioned vaguely toward the blankets and pillows he had assembled into a comfortable nest. He couldn’t find the words, so he melted away into low mumbles.

“I see.” Splinter nodded, “It looks very comfortable. Are you sure you don’t mind sharing your rooms?”

Raphael shrugged. “Eh, it’s whatever. Mikey loves sleepovers, so…” Raphael bit his lip out of habit and rubbed his arm.

“Still, I appreciate your generosity.” He approached Raphael at a slow gait and held out his paw near Raphael, but not quite touching him, allowing Raphael to take that final reach if he so choosed; and he did. Splinter ran a finger carefully across the far-larger hand, his expression a splitting smile. “I’m sorry if my family overstepped our boundaries at supper. Leonardo is simply… eager to get back home, as we all are.”

“No no no, it’s not your fault!” Raphael quickly reassured. “I know how Leo’s can get when they’re antsy.

Splinter gave a cheerful laugh. “Yes; I suppose my son and your brother are more alike than we initially realized.”

“Yeah, especially recently...” Raphael caught himself. He growled, swiping at his face trying to clear the cloud in his mind. “Sorry. Just a lot on my mind right now.”

“Of course.” Splinter nodded, “I understand completely.”

Raphael sat down with enough force to shake the room; Splinter sat down beside him.

“Your father is… unwell?” Splinter asked cautiously.

“Erm…” Raphael pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful grunt. “Uh. Physically he’s as well as he can be— Leo and Don make sure of that.”

“But mentally?” Splinter prompted.

Raphael couldn’t answer. It was all he could do to shake his head and give a weak, gasping sob, though no tears came to match. Almost out of habit, Raphael pressed his weight into Splinter and rested his head on the old rat’s shoulders; Splinter carried the burden of Raphael with little trouble, carefully shushing the mutant's sobs while stroking his carapace.

“There there, it is alright.” Splinter soothed. “I can imagine how difficult it is to care for your father while maintaining your duties at the same time.”

“It is.” Raphael shook his broad head. “And… and I try to balance things so we can do both, but Leo’s just making it so hard! We’re yelling at each other all the time, Donnie holes up in his bedroom, and Mikey is just so sad. I don’t know what to do…”

“Hey, easy…” Splinter stroked the unscarred side of Raphael’s face, “You will figure it out. Would I be overzealous to ask about…?”

“Uh.” Raphael took a deep breath to think. “We took him to a yokai specialist that uh… said LBD or something like that. Protein deposits in the brain or nerve cells or whatever. I… kinda blanked out.”

“Of course.” Splinter nodded, “It is only natural.”

“Leo handles all of that medical stuff anyway.” Raphael waved a dismissive hand, “Doctor appointments, physical therapy, stuff like that…”

“You’re awfully lucky you have all those options.” Splinter said, “Perhaps we could get Michelangelo checked out— my son, I mean. Donatello is wonderful with him, but internet searches and medical books can only go so far.”

There was no verbal response, but Raphael grunted and nodded with eyes averted. Splinter frowned and lowered his head to meet the snapping turtle’s gaze, smile just as patient.

“Do you agree, Raphael?”

Raphael shrugged. “I dunno. I mean— it’s worked so far for us. I get that Leo wants dad to have all these specialists and these caregivers and—and I understand that dad needs the care, but it’s expensive and we can do half that stuff by ourselves! If dad really needs something then it’s not an issue, but Leo keeps wasting all this time and money to get the same exact answer! It’s stupid!”

“I see.” Splinter nodded, “I understand that pride may be a difficult thing to overcome with something so personal…”

“And it’s not just the appointments!” It was nice to have someone to talk to, an unbiased source, so Raphael just kept talking. He could feel a weight lifting off of his shoulders and chest. “Leo’s has it in his head that dad needs a full-time nurse!”

“You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know…” Raphael shook his head, “I mean, I can’t really stand the thought of some stranger coming here and… trusting someone we don’t know with taking care of dad.”

“You’re untrusting of strangers…”

“Well, yeah. We’ve been pretty sheltered most of our lives. All of this… out in the open stuff is really new to us.”

“It is a valid worry.” Splinter reassured, “Is there any alternative?”

“I don’t see why we can’t do what we’ve been doing! You know— take turns staying behind to take care of dad.”

“You would split up the team…”

“I mean… it’s for dad! And it’s what we’ve been doing for the past two months, and it’s worked out great! Leo just doesn’t want to put in the work…”

“I’m certain that’s not what it is at all!” Splinter insisted, “You said Leonardo was taking your father to all of these appointments! That doesn’t seem lazy to me!”

“It’s lazy when it gets him out of training and patrol constantly.” Raphael said bitterly.

“Ah.” Splinter understood, “Well, why not take turns accompanying Yoshi?”

“I tried that; Leo’s the only one who knows enough about this stuff to fill in the doctor's.”

“Your Donatello isn’t of help?”

“Not with medical science. He’s more of a tech nerd.”

“My Donatello is much of a… jack of all trades, if you would. Perhaps during our stay he could help out.”

“You think he would?” Raphael had a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“I don’t see why not. I will ask him about it in the morning.”

“Thanks.” Raphael breathed, his smile coming back with a more genuine emotion, “Gee, we really owe you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“We didn't help you boys just to get something owed.” Splinter stated, “It was just the right thing to do.”

“I know!” Raphael insisted, “And helping you guys is the right thing for us to do!

“You are a very kind soul, Raphael, and I am so thankful that me and my sons had this place to turn to in our hour of need. Friends to rely on.”

Raphael took Splinter’s hands in his. “You’re always welcome here! We would have visited sooner but… life happened.”

“Do not be guilty, young Raphael. Guilt does not suit those eyes well.”

Raphael rumbled a laugh. “I’ll try to remember that.”

~~~

“Hey.” Donnie opened the closet to find Leonardo sitting inside; he closed the door and joined Leonardo, having to pull his knees tight to his chest to cram all seven feet of him inside.

“Hey.” Leonardo muttered, hardly acknowledging Donnie’s presence.

“Your Donnie’s looking for you, you know.”

“How’d you find me first, then?”

Donnie shrugged. “I’m a ninja. Do you… wanna talk about what happened?”

“What’s there to talk about?” Leonardo scoffed, almost laughing, “You saw what went down. There’s nothing more to it.”

“Oh, I think there is.” Donnie said; when Leonardo looked in the box turtles eyes, he was met with the cold, cobra stare that Donnie was known for. “I’m curious. Enlighten me.”

Leonardo gulped. “Just… the past six months have been an… all-round crap fest. Just one thing after the other— it’s exhausting! And arguing with Raph doesn’t make things any better.”

“Haven’t you and your Raph always butted heads?”

“Not like this! Not every day— and not so violent! Not over something as important as this… as important as dad.”

“Do you know what caused it?” Donnie asked vaguely, but he trusted in Leonardo to know what he was talking about.

“It’s LBD.” Leonardo shook his head, “Doc says so.”

Donnie frowned. “LBD shouldn’t have progressed so quickly. You said it’s only been six months?”

“Five months, and that’s since he was diagnosed, not since it developed.” Leonardo corrected, “He’s had it for a long time we just… didn't notice. Little things like… forgetting our names and mixing up who was who…”

“That would have been around the same time as your injury, right?” Donnie asked, “I mean, I can only estimate given how much you’ve healed.”

“Yeah, right after it.” Leonardo took a shaky breath.

“That must have been… difficult to handle?”

“Raph… struggled a lot.” Leonardo’s voice began to waver, “I… let’s just say I was MIA for a while. I… wasn’t there when… But he got through it. We’ll get through this too. Always do.”

“You have access to doctor's, don’t you?” Donnie said, “Neurologists, geriatricians, physicians?”

Leonardo nodded, “All of those. And I’ve been looking into palliative care, but it’s… hard to find all this stuff in the Hidden City. Yokai illness and human aren’t the same and… and dad’s isn’t either of those.”

“It sounds like you’re doing everything right to me.” Donnie assured.

“Try telling that to Raph! I told him that we needed a nurse to help us stay on top of this whole thing, and he nearly blew a gasket. He’s too proud to admit that we need help.”

“Pride is a dangerous thing.” Donnie agreed, “How can I help?”

“No.” Leonardo shook his head, “This is personal business. You don’t need to get involved.”

“Leon.” Donnie’s voice dripped with venom.

“D-don’t you do it.”

“Leon.” Donnie leaned closer to Leonardo, his eyes wide and slitted as he hissed out the words in a slow voice, “How... can I... help…?”

“You can start by not looking at me like that!” Leonardo shoved Donnie away and shivered.

Donnie blinked and his eyes were back to normal. “You’re not in this alone, Leon, and I won’t let you think that you are. Just know that.”

#what’s up with Yoshi?#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt #tmnt au #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #bay turtles #beyond the bay

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tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Betrothred Ch. 1 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Chapter 1: Bride

Summary: After making your choice, there’s no going back from it.

Warnings: Blood, Murder, Threats, Angst

Words: 2390

Story Masterlist

A/N: This first chapter is kinda angsty but it gets better, I swear!

Today is the day.

Even though only mere hours would separate you from becoming a part of the Zoldyck family, the whole situation still felt very much surreal to you.

To be invited and welcomned on their property was one of the greatest honor of all, but to be considered a fitting consort for their eldest son was just unimaginable.

One of the butlers was harshly braiding your hair, trying to get it in a position you’d usually never wear. Another one would be working on your make-up, something you’d usually find unnecessary considering your profession.

Why would an assassin care for their physical appearance anyway? Well, all of this was probably part of some kind of tradition or ritual.

No matter how roughly they were tearing and tugging on you, trying to modify your body until you wouldn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror, you’d take their invasion of your personal space in a calm demeanour.

Because that’s how you were raised.

Obey, endure and function.

Your bloodline had a long history of both feared and powerful Head Hunters, for decaded being third place of all known assassin families - with the Zoldycks claiming the indisputable top.

Torture, poison and death were your fellow comrades throughout your whole youth, even though there were limits:

Only the most promising children would be chosen to become Head Hunters. The others were free to choose their way as they wished.

Your upbringing was strict, yet loving. And it was forbidden to break your free will. Serving the family should be an honor, not a burden.

Other than the Zoldycks, your family believed that emotions could become the surce of strenght.

There were other moral standarts: Murdering children was off limits, for example.

And your ‘carreer’ was just about to begin when it took this unexcpected turn.

You had met your soon-to-be-husband after finally completing your formal training, now allowed to take on the Hunter Exam.

Already accustomed to the basics of Nen, it was easy for you to see behind the disguise of the man calling himself Gittarackur.

At first being rather passive, even as the two of you completed the Trick Tower together, he soon stated to be impressed by your exceptional strenght and capability.

Truth be spoken, you always thought yourself to be mediocre at best. So that sudden compliment hit you off guard, especially after he casually revealed his true identity and heritage.

Immediately after the exam, you gathered all of your courage and asked Illumi to teach you in the ways of a true assassin - so you could grow and become the next leader of your clan.

And much to your surprise, he instantly accepted, not even wanting anything in return. You were useful to him and his missions, he stated. That would be enough.

After that, it wouldn’t take long until the stoic man announced that you’d make for a formidable spouse, asking your father for your hand in marriage.

Even though you weren’t quite sure if you made the right decision, his proposal alone the greatest honor for your kin and you just couldn’t disappoint them.

Illumi had always been very reserved about anything else than his work, making you doubt he was even capable of feeling anything else than the joy of killing.

Yet he was a reliable ally, both smart and strong - and admittedly very good looking. You were convinced that he wasn’t the monster most people saw in him: He had just been molded to be the perfect assassin.

And because of that, he would make for a good husband as well.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” The voice behind your back was Kikyo, dismissing the servants with a single gesture of her hand.

You wanted to stand up and make a curtsy as a sign of respect, yet felt her palms on your shoulder, pressing down so you’d remain in your seat.

Looking in the mirror, you saw your mother in law behind your back, her visor making it hard to read her intentions. Her aura gave it all away, though.

Illumi’s proposal surprised her just as much as yourself, and she obviously wasn’t content with it. You actually doubtet that she’d ever consider someone good enough to marry one of her children, so you didn’t take it personal.

The pressure would only help you grow.

“You’ll become the perfect partner for my son, won’t you?” Her fingernails dug deep into your flesh, but you didn’t even flinch. “Of course, honorable mother.”

“Good.” Apparently your answer didn’t calm her fury, since her fingermails only turned in the wounds they dug into your flesh. She only stopped when she realized that the blood was staining your clothes.

“I don’t expect any less from a lowlife like you are.” Seems like you should stay alerted around her. But that was no surprise, and it didn’t scare you either.

You knew what you were getting yourself into. And it was worth it.

To prove your worth, you’d go even beyond your limits.

“It’s time, Y/N.”

Up until now, you hid your emotions very well - but hearing that familiar, monotonous voice, you couldn’t help but smile.

“Illumi!” Kikyo shreeked out, “You’re not allowed to see Y/N before the ceremony!”

“Unnecessary superstition” he retorted quite unaffected, approaching both of you.

Kikyo stepped back, revealing you fully. He took in your appearance, rather observing than anything else. “Is that your blood?”

“Nothing worth mentioning.”

He grabbed your ankle, forcing you up from his seat to look at him. “How did this happen?”

You didn’t dare answering. It was not your place to drive a wedge between your fianceé and his mother, even though you highly doubtet that he would care at all.

Illumi turned around, his blank stare now directed to his mother, who defendingly put her hands into the air. “I-I was just advising-”

“No need for that” he cut her off. “I can take care of any business concerning my partner myself.”

Now she got all hysterical again, just as you got to know her. “B-but-”

“Never touch them again, or I’ll kill you.”

Kikyo relented, then having a mental breakdown for excactly 5 seconds, screams and cries filling the room.

The air had gotten incredibly thick, the unsettling atmosphere making you wish to just disappear right on spot.

“Oh, Illumi!” she exclaimed, sounding jubilant all of a sudden. “Being so cruel to your own mother...You’ve grown so much!”

What a weird fucking family.

“Show me your arms” Illumi demanded after he told his mother to be left alone, yet you flinched away.

“I apologize for having provoked an argument” you spoke all humble, “My wounds are of no concern. Don’t worry.”

“Starting today, I’m expected to take care of you. So you should obey and let me patch this up.” You sat down with a small sigh, exposing your shoulders and presenting them to him. “It would be a shame if you get scarred by something else than a honorable battle.”

Eventually you found time to appreciate your fianceé’s exterior: Illumi had his hair braided back, wearing a fully black suit with a white shirt and a bow tie.

It was the first time you ever saw him in formal wear, and it actually suited him very well.

“You’re very handsome, Lumi” you absentmindedly blurted out as you watched him bandage the wounds on your shoulder.

And Illumi would acknowledge your looks in his own way. “Your appearance is very adequate for this occasion as well.” That counts as a compliment, right?

“Glad you like it” you smiled, “But sadly the stains won’t get out. And we have no time to clean off the blood.”

Illumi swiftly helped you on your feet once again, vaguely explaining “Don’t worry. It won’t stand out after the ceremony.”

You linked arms with Illumi, who led you to the main room as you still pondered about what exactly he meant with that statement.

The celebration would be a small one, not even your own family being allowed to attend. When you entered the generously decorated hall, there were only Silva, Kikyo, Zeno, Kalluto and Milluki.

“Welcome, Y/N” Silva spoke in a way more welcoming tone than his wife earlier. You bend your head as you stood in front of the table where the family had gathered, greeting them politely before making your way to the altar.

Zeno would be the one to confirm the bond. You were actually glad that it was him, because he had already grown fond of you.

“Are you ready?” the old man wondered, noticing how you were trembling.

“Far away from it” you chuckled without doubt, adding “But I’m prepared to do anything.”

“That’s a honest but brave answer, young adult” he paised in an attempt to calm you down, then arranging both you and Illumi to stand facing each other. “And just what you need to become part of this family.”

One sign of Silva and the door swung open, a Bunch of butlers dragging in a terribly inured human.

Much to your shock, the person was not dead - not yet.

“So it begins” Illumi whispered as he saw the man wince in pain, begging for his life, and he almost cracked something like a smile.

“Wha-” Before you could even comprehend what was happening, it hit you like a brick: You were supposed to finish that person off.

That was what Illumi meant. A few blood stains on your wedding dress really were your smallest problem considering what awaited you from this day on.

“That man invaded our property with the intend to kill us” Silva explained to you, his stare bringing across his demands. “You’ll prove your loyality through ending his life.”

At that moment, you knew that you’ll disappoint them - because you were frozen in place.

You had taken and destroyed so many lives, yet always had the full information on them and could decide through your own standarts. But now?

What if it was a lie? You didn’t know that man, why he was here or if he deserved death.

Maybe he had family or came for revenge. Goddamn it, he could even be a reporter who just sneaked in to snatch a photo! Or they had presented you a completely innocent man, seeing if you were the undoubting slave they wanted to have!

Madness runs in this family, apparently.

It was a test. You knew that much. Quite fitting for someone from a family which was only rank three, known for their rather humane way of working.

“No Nen allowed” Kikyo completed the task, “No guns or similar either. You may only use your bare hands or close combat weapons.”

Yes. It was way harder, imprinting your soul to kill that direct way. How you’d deal with the situation was crucial for the outcome of this wedding.

But were you really ready to throw all of your morality abroad just for your own sake?

“We won’t kill you if you decline the order” Illumi cut off your brooding. Was it out of sympathy? You had no idea. “You’ll be considered unfitting, but you are free to leave and no one will ever bother you again.”

“N-No” you stumbled across your own words, “I’ll do everything for the family.”

“Interesting” Zeno stated. “I never doubtet your spouse, Illumi, but I thought they'd take longer to decide.”

"I think Y/N will make for a great companion.” Silva’s wide grin streched across his face, making his eyes wrinkle a bit. “In both family and business.”

When all was said and done, Illumi grabbed a knive that was placed on the altar. “Let’s do it together, then.”

You almost felt guilty that you became flustered in a moment like this, but couldn’t help it as Illumi genuinely smiled at you, taking your hand as you took firm steps towards the enemy.

“P-Please have mercy!” the man pleaded to no avail, and determination swelled in your chest at that intense moment.

Taking someone’s life together - it would connect two people in a cruel yet beautiful way.

Whatever else could be more fitting for the marriage of two assassins?

It would be an easy kill. He was unable to flee or fight back. Just a single strike, ending his life quick as act of mercy.

“You should’ve known better than to mess with my new family.”

Both of your hands intertwined, wrapping your fingers around the handle of the knive before thrusting it into the victim’s chest.

And then it dawned to you.

“A needleman?” you sulked, ripping out one of Illumi’s needles out of the stranger’s head, while the others broke out in boisterous laughter.

“Yeah. He was already dead” Illumi shrugged. “I know you don’t like burdening yourself with victims you didn’t choose yourself. But we needed to test you anyway. It’s a tradition.”

Was he actually respecting your boundaries?! What the-

“I like your guts!” Silva attempted to pat your back, but it felt rather like he was going to break your spine. “Sorry for our harsh methods. I know it can be a bit much at the beginning. You’ll get used to obey our rules slowly, don’t push yourself.

Even Kikyo embraced you, now almost convincing motherly. “Reminds me of my first kill for the family!”

It almost felt like those people could actually feel compassion for others. They at least had undoubtingly strong bonds with each other, even if their way of living together was rather unusual.

Stiff movements as always, Illumi placed his hand on your head, almost as if a robot was trying to mimick human interaction. “I’m proud of you. I knew I chose well.”

The rest of the ceremony was just as you expected it: No vows, no rings, no music, no kiss. Just you and Illumi hearing to whatever Zeno had to say about bringing honor and wealth to the family, bearing strong offsprings, and other things that were the exact opposite from romantic.

“Blood for blood” Zeno stated now instead of “You may now kiss”, and every family member repeated it.

You took the knife from the altar once again, cutting your palm until it drew blood without any hesitation. Illumi would now do the same, then reaching out his hand for yours to hold.

As your fluids mixed before dropping to the floor, you unsucessfully searched for any hint of emotional reaction in your husbands expressionless face.

His eyes however would never leave yours, his hand firmly squeezing yours before Zeno announced:

“Your fates are now inextricably connected.”

____

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@roseburry-jam @food-cures-all @oprah-winfriess @ullinic @sun-and-moon-elfingsmeme @chocolateislovr @sapphic-ghoul @coco724 @jessiejunebug @yukiwins @weflyinfluff @readlatersnowy @gibk @spasmodicterror @djgirl66 @pweeenis @trblsicheng @theromaniangirl @cluelessmxnd @s1sterofthemoon

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#Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #Illumi x Reader #HxH #Illumi Zoldyck #Zoldyck #Arranged Marriage AU #Writing #Self Insert

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shadowed-dancer · 3 years

Text

My Thoughts on the New MHA Opening and Ending

I have thoughts, and I will share them because oh boy if I don’t get this out I’m gonna explode

Vague Spoilers for the manga (up to chapter 258 and vigilantes) because I discuss the upcoming arcs, but I don’t discuss any major plot points in detail. Still, proceed with caution if you’re anime only

Keep in mind, this OP and ED will cover the Endeavour Agency Arc and the MVA Arc, so I will be judging them accordingly.

First, the OP

This is a good OP... in theory (that’s going to become my catchphrase for this post). It’s nice to look at and flows pretty well, but my biggest problem is that it doesn’t do it’s job. An OP is supposed to be a sort of... summary (?) of the Cour it plays for. That means any cool plot points, emotional beats, and important characters should be featured in some way, shape, or form. We’ll talk about that more later, but first let’s discuss the music.

The song is really good. I have a feeling it will continue to grow on me as I listen to it more often, but yeah my first impression is that the song sounds great. My only complaint about the music itself is that it ends kind of abruptly (I noticed this is the JT opening too). The previous openings used to have a bit of instrumental to “play us out” and lead us to the end card, but this one feels like it ends very suddenly and unnaturally.

As for the visuals...

Yeah alright I’ll admit, the visuals are stunning... in theory. I appreciate the variety in backgrounds and colours, it makes the OP really interesting to look at. This was actually one of my biggest problems with the JT Opening, it all took place on the training grounds, so there was no variety (everything was metal tubes with a blue sky, with only 3 shots set somewhere different). I appreciate the style of this OP.

But like I said, that’s only in theory, as in, through screenshots these are all pleasing to look at. The pacing of this OP is wild, and I truly don’t know who to blame for this.

That sunset shot above? It lasts approximately 12 seconds, zooming in every few to make it seem like something is happening (when in reality it’s still the same poses, angles, etc). While there’s nothing wrong with a nice, drawn out shot, it becomes irritating when compared to the pacing of the rest of this op.

At the 41 second mark, we are given the shot above. It has flowed directly from the previous sunset scene. We still have not moved away from the image of the trio (aside from the opening shot and the title card) yet we’re approaching the halfway mark of the OP.

The next shot is the MLA, which lasts about 5 seconds. Ok, perfect. Not too long, but also not short enough to be confusing. It cuts away a little fast once the dude on the far left appears, but does anyone actually know who that is? No, seriously, I’m asking. I don’t remember his name and he’s not on the wiki, so I can only assume he’s not important. Therefore, it’s not all that bad if the shot cuts away shortly after he comes into frame. The audience is able to take in the scene without having to pause...

... And then the problems start

While this shot is fine in theory, it pans up fast and cuts away quickly. You know how hard it was for me to get this screenshot? Really hard. You want to know why I struggled so much? Because, due to the timing of the cut and the way it pans upwards, it’s almost impossible to pause on Dabi’s face. I literally had to go frame by frame to get it, because he’s in shot for so little time that naturally pausing is guaranteed to miss him.

When watching this in real time (without pausing) the cut away makes you feel as if you missed something because “something was there, I just couldn’t register what because now it’s gone”. Unlike Compress, who wears a very colourful coat you can recognize the entire time, Dabi’s pants are more blended into the background.

It also doesn’t help that this shot is literally composed to draw your attention away from Dabi until the last possible second. Due to framing, your eye is naturally drawn to the brightly coloured Toga in the foreground, making it super easy to miss Dabi in the back (until, of course, his bright face appears and contrasts against the background, drawing your eye just in time for the scene to change, leaving you to wonder who or what you missed).

I know this sounds like nitpicking, but this shot is the only group shot we get of the League, and is also the start of a seriously weird trend for the villains in this OP getting the short end of the stick.

Anyways, then we get what I’ll call “The Carousel Shot” in which every Class 1A kid shows up and poses dramatically, as if they were on a carousel. It’s a lovely sequence and I really enjoy watching it but... why is it in this OP?

Seriously, this is a genuine question. Class 1A barely shows up in the Endeavour Agency Arc, and NONE of the students are in MVA. This sequence (not counting the three boys at the end) lasts 8 seconds. Why is this much time dedicated to characters who are barely in the arc? (Unless Studio Bones extends their work studies into fuller plot lines which oh my gosh please don’t do that, or if they do, do it quick).

We then get what I call the “Oh God I Blinked And Missed Everything” sequence, which lasts 3 seconds (not including the longer, moving shot of Shigaraki at the end) and features NINE INDIVIDUAL IMAGES, none of which are related to each other. Not only is this 3 images per second, but the fact that they are all unrelated means you can’t even use previous information to fill in the blanks.

What do I mean by that? Well, imagine if I show you 9 images of various pro heroes posing. If I play that in 3 seconds you’ll absolutely miss some of them, but as long as you catch some you’ll still get an idea of what I’m trying to show to you. Your brain is able to fill in the gaps that “I recognized 4 pro heroes, therefore the rest must have also been pros” even if you didn’t register every single frame.

That doesn’t work if every frame features a completely different subject. The shots in this sequence vary so widely that it’s impossible to find a through line. Some feature multiple characters, some feature one, some are closeups, some are super far away, some are character’s we know, others are characters we don’t. It’s impossible to get a solid read on what you’re being shown.

Now, again, there’s nothing wrong with these super quick shots... in theory. The problem comes from the fact that these shots are the only indicators for some of the major themes that will be explored during this Cour (like Twice’s growth and young Shigaraki).

That being said, let’s move away from criticism and talk about speculation, because hidden amongst this sequence are two... interesting images.

This All Might one is very reminiscent of the shot in Chapter 257, where Aizawa and All Might have a conversation while staring up at the stars. However, this is technically the start of the “War Arc” (or the “prologue”, if that’s what you want to call it), so this might indicate that we’re going to get farther into the series than a lot of us guessed.

(Many people suspected we’d get to that cliffhanger at the start of the season (if you read the manga you know the one), but after seeing the pacing for JT a lot of us assumed we’d be lucky to even finish Endeavour Agency. It seems we’re back to the cliffhanger now though lol).

This is another really interesting shot because it’s indicative of Shirakumo, meaning we might get to see Aizawa and Mic confront him some time this Cour (this also makes sense, since this confrontation technically happens before that All Might scene I mentioned in the previous paragraph).

But the cat specifically is a really strange addition. That cat is named Sushi and, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think Sushi is ever mentioned in the main series. I think he’s only in Vigilantes.

This might just be a little Easter Egg for Vigilante readers, but I’m personally hoping that they’ll add at least a few Vigilante shots in there to really tug at the heart strings. I’d say I want a whole Vigilante episode but I don’t think they have the time (unless they really cram MVA, which I do NOT want).

I don’t have much to say about the last bit of the OP. The action shot between the 3 boys was nice, and it follows the sort of narrative through line they established from the early shot of them sitting at the sunset. I also like the shot of Endeavour fading in to replace All Might, even if it’s very simple.

But I want to talk about an overarching problem I touched upon earlier in that villain shot: the way the villains are handled in this OP.

This is a good OP... in theory. The problem is, it doesn’t represent half the arcs in the cour! Every shot of the League is so rushed that you can barely register that they were on screen before they’re gone.

I have no idea how many Episodes Endeavour Agency will take, but I’d assume 3 (4 if you count the Christmas episode). 12 episodes for this Cour minus 3 for Endeavour Agency = 9 episodes left. If we truly do get the prologue for the War Arc (and if we assume it’s only 1 episode) that leaves us with 8 villains episodes.

8/12 episodes (aka two thirds of the Cour) will likely be about the villains. And yet they’re pushed to the background so hard in this OP.

I want to dream, and I want to believe that this OP is going to magically change when MVA starts. The song fits super well, and I can imagine like an inversion of the OP but from the Villain side! Wouldn’t that be neat? Imagine right after the “it’s alright” part Shigaraki just freaking decays the title card... oh man that would be so cool. But, alas, I highly doubt they’d do that.

Side rant, but you know what was so fun about MVA in the manga? It’s that, for 21 chapters, we leave the kids behind and the villains become our protagonists. Suddenly Shigaraki is the one we’re rooting for, suddenly we’re learning backstories for everyone, and suddenly we find ourselves just as attached to the villains as we are to the kids. It’s an inversion that’s SO RARE to find, and I think many people (myself included) were hoping it would be reflected in the OP.

A big part of being the protagonist means featuring heavily in the OP, and a lot of us just wanted the villains to get that honour, even if only once. As is, the OP still treats them as the antagonists when... really they aren’t. Not right now, at least.

So yeah, final thoughts on the OP are that it’s good, it’s just not very representative of the arcs it’s supposed to cover. If this was just for Endeavour Agency, I’d say it’s actually really cool, but if we assume that this is what will play for the Villain Arc, then it simply doesn’t do it’s job. And it makes me sad to say that because, again, this OP is really well done.

If I had to rate it? Hmmm

If Studio Bones actually grants my wish and creates a different visual for the Villain Arc (while using the same song) and then this version only plays for the Endeavour Agency Arc and the War Prologue? I’d give it an 8/10. It’s really good, but it could use a few more elements that are clearly derived from the Agency Arc (ahem, Todoroki siblings).

But if this is the OP that will play for the entire Cour? a 6.5/10. It’s nice, but it’s not representative of one of the arcs it’s going to cover. And, unlike other arcs like Pro Hero or Summer Exams, the villain Arc is so important and takes up so much time that it honestly feels like a bit of a disservice.

Now for the Ending

I want to say that I appreciate how soft this ending starts. This cour will likely feature a lot of episodes that end on... heavier themes, and I think the sight of peaceful, falling raindrops is the perfect way to let the audience process their emotions before starting the ending in earnest.

The song itself is very nice, and I like that it’s a bit slower than the more recent endings.

(Side note, but the FUNNIEST moment in the entire series is when Sir Nighteye dies because it’s so emotional and everyone is standing around his bed in his heartwrentching silence, only for the ending to come BLARING IN out of no where. If you forgot how jarringly hilarious it was, go listen to the Eri ending and tell me that’s not the funniest thing this series ever did. Anyways yeah I’m glad that’s not gonna happen this Cour).

This ending is a bit all over the place in terms of it’s visuals, but honestly I think it works. Most endings usually have a theme tying them together (all the Class 1A girls, a fantasy AU, old photographs, planning a party, etc) but this ending’s theme is a bit harder to identify.

That being said, I think it’s just supposed to show everyone going about their day. It’s calm, it’s peaceful, and it’s just very sweet to think about

I like this shot. Actually, scratch that, I like this whole sequence. I enjoy anything that allows Class 1A to chill and have fun.

Hawks is featured quite heavily in this ending which, fair. He’s pretty important in this arc.

I really love the shot where Endeavour immediately switches to Hawks, I thought that was a lot of fun, and very good symbolism on how Hawks wants to be like Endeavour. I also love all the shots of Baby Hawks, because it’s adorable.

Something about this shot is just so cute. It’s the little domestic things like waiting for a bus that make this ending feel... idk the word, real? It shows a side of the characters that we’ll never see in the episodes, but we know have to exist.

Like yes, of course the kids have to wait for the bus. We never see it, but of course there are those moments of quiet. Agh, I love it.

The villains also make an appearance and I’m very happy about that (I’d love to see more of the villains just chilling around, I think they deserve it). I kind of wish they weren’t sitting in a dark room for the sake of being edgy, since I think it would be nice to see the villains just... sort of existing, but honestly it’s still a nice shot. I also like how this shot sort of mirrors the first one with Class 1A (someone coming in while everyone else is sitting and waiting for them).

That being said, as much as I love looking at Dabi and his stupid face (affectionate)... why is Dabi the one getting the closeup?

Mind you, endings don’t need to be connected to their Cours (they can be, like the Eri one, but they don’t have to be). But this ending does seem to be connected to the arcs it intends to cover, given all the Hawks appearances, the boys wearing their work study scarves, etc.

So, I ask again, why Dabi? Out of the six League members, we learn the backstory for four of them in this arc (Shigaraki, Toga, Twice, and we very briefly learn about Spinner). The only two left out are Dabi and Compress.

I can only assume they chose Dabi because he’s constantly in contact with Hawks, and therefore that makes him important? If the OP told us anything, it’s that Bones values the Endeavour Agency Arc over the Villain Arc lol...

... Oh my gosh please tell me that’s not actually the reason Dabi is focused on here BONES WAI-

Anyways, the ending comes to a close with Hawks watching over the kids and Endeavour. The relaxing time is done, it’s time for work studies.

Overall impression? It’s great. It’s hard to screw up an ending, so as long as you have something pretty on screen, it’s wonderful.

I’ll give this a 9/10

#bnha #bnha season 5 #dabi #keigo takami #bnha season five #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #mha season 5 #mha season five #bnha op #bnha opinions #izuku midoriya #bnha hawks #ok to reblog #actually yes please do reblog if you found this interesting #I worked hard on it

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thebigqueer · 3 years

Note

Do you think you could talk more about Will becoming an army medic? Maybe you could write a little fic about him coming home and surprising Nico like all of those youtube videos 🥺

ahhhh!! hi anon!! sorry for such a late response, i’ve been working on my own personal one-shots and haven’t had the time.

thank you so much for the fic prompt, and i hope you like this!! and, as always: i do little to no editing on these fic prompts, so please don’t be too judgmental as you read through them as they will not be my best work.

Nico’s hand brushes across the blank page, leaving trails of charcoal along the whiteness as he runs through it. His blood roars in his ears as he works furiously. Anxiety thrums in his heart. He has no idea what he’s drawing or why, but he knows that he just has to. His nerves have been short-circuiting all day and he just needs a relief from the world around him.

But even as he sits in the Strawberry Fields, enveloped under the shade of a tree, he can’t seem to find the comfort. Too many thoughts circulate in his head. The world is tilting under his body and he’s about to fall off the earth.

Since Will left for the army so many months ago, he’s been on edge. What if something happens to him? What if Will never comes back?

What if he loses his Sunshine Boy forever?

Tears burn against his eyes but he fights hard to push them away. He can’t let himself think like that. He continues swiping his hand against the page, leaking his pain into the paper, puncturing his anger across in black strokes. He can’t think like that. He can’t afford to.

A warm breeze circles around Nico, brushing across his cheeks and ruffling his dark hair. It settles his nerves, just a little, but then his heart thrums quicker again. The wind throws his mind back to the past, back to only months ago when he was sitting in this very spot with Will, talking about who knows what. All he can remember is Will’s arm around him, that cheesy smile across his mouth, his curls gleaming in the sunlight.

And the scent. Like warm summer days, like citrus, like strawberries. Just like it is now.

When the ache of emotion presses against his throat, Nico doesn’t suppress himself. A tear slips out his eye, then another, and a few more. Some fall onto his blank page and burst over the white, bleeding gray across the art. It trickles across the stenciled strokes and drips over the page, turning his once-black art into an ugly, emotional wreck.

Just like he’s an ugly, emotional wreck.

He throws the unfinished project to the side and brings his knees to his chest. He can’t deal with the sun right now. He can’t deal with the brightness when anxiety keeps crawling over his brain. The possibilities of so many drastic ends for Will press against his skull, haunt his thoughts, plague his nightmares.

He just wants Will to be okay. He wants Will to be safe. He wants Will to come back in one piece. Would that be too much to ask?

Nico isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting there. Maybe it’s been minutes; possibly hours. But his emotions keep pouring out, keep flooding around him, keep wringing him out, and he can’t control himself anymore. He’s kept his fears at bay too long and he needs to let them out into the open. Maybe this is good for him.

He knows that it isn’t something he should be getting emotional over. He’s a demigod, for heaven’s sake. This is the kind of shit he should be expecting. Demigods aren’t always going to be safe.

But the problem isn’t that it’s a demigod thing. When demigods are in trouble, it’s because they’re usually forced into that trouble. No, the issue is that Will chose to go into the army. He put it on himself. And Nico supports him, of course. It was Will’s choice, and whatever Will wants, Nico will gladly be there for him.

But it’s the pain of knowing that he won’t exactly have anyone to blame if Will’s gone out of his own volition. If this were a demigod issue, Nico could easily blame a god for his anger. It wouldn’t be healthy, no, but at least he could locate his rage somewhere. Because this is a matter of personal choice, however, it makes him all the more scared.

He’s so lost in his emotions and anxieties that he barely hears the crunch off to the side, barely acknowledges the shift in the air. He’s spinning in his own world and no longer has a grip on the universe.

Then a voice speaks up, soft and warm and comforting as a summer’s day: “Hey.”

Nico looks up, anxiety spiking in his bloodstream. How is he supposed to explain why he’s sobbing in the Strawberry Fields to someone? What kind of excuse can he make up?

His tear-filled eyes rove over the figure before him, trying to make him out through the blurriness. A tall, vaguely-familiar being stands in front of Nico, the tan of his skin absorbing the beams of sunlight. A mop of golden hair dances as the wind brushes against it, and Nico’s chest bursts with joy at the sight of the figure though he isn’t entirely sure why.

Perhaps it’s the fact that he hasn’t seen him in a while, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s already too disoriented from his breakdown, but he it takes much longer than it should for Nico to understand who it is.

Will.

The son of Apollo offers a shy smile. “Hi, Nico.”

Joy explodes through Nico’s entire system; relief crashes into him like a tsunami. His thoughts tangle up together and unfurl again, going at about a thousand miles per hour. Hundreds of questions strangle him.

But he doesn’t dare voice them. Instead, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Nico jumps up and throws his arms around Will.

He feels as familiar as ever, yet so very strange. It’s been so long - too long - since Nico’s held his boyfriend. His arms feel foreign across Will’s shoulders, his body too big to fit in the blond’s arms. He tries to melt into Will, to absorb his presence, but there’s too much giddiness in him, too much excitement. His blood thrums with energy.

Will laughs, and the sound of it spills through Nico’s ear, melts into his brain and seeps into his core. That laugh. It’s been so long. So long. So long.

Will’s arms circle Nico’s waist, and for a few moments, they stand there holding each other, loving each other, finding each other. A wave of emotions rise up to Nico’s chest and new tears fall across Will’s shoulder, explode across his shirt, but for the moment, neither of them care nor acknowledge it. It’s just them in the world in this moment.

Then Nico pulls away and gazes up at Will’s eyes, a bright smile flashing against his mouth. Words hang off the cliff of his tongue, questions and reactions and emotions, but before he can voice any of them, his heart stops.

Because now that he’s seeing Will, seeing him head-on with his face and freckles and eyes, there’s something different about him. Something missing.

As Nico gazes into Will’s eyes, he realizes that they’re not as crystal clear as they used to be. Something hazy floats above his blue eyes, a filmy wall that makes his irises duller. They look almost gray in the light.

Will’s eyes look like icicles, sharp and dangerous. They look like shards of glass.

Will looks shattered.

Immediately all of Nico’s relief drips out of him, leaving him once more in dread. “Will,” he whispers. “Oh, gods, how are you?”

Will offers a wavering smile. But within the next second, something entirely new comes across his features: exhaustion.

The brightness of his face dulls out and he sighs, closing his eyes. He leans his head against Nico’s neck. “I’m so tired, Nico.” Something wet sprouts against the son of Hades’ neck, and with a stab of dread he realizes Will’s crying. “I’m so tired.”

And that’s when the realization hits Nico. He feels as though an icy sword has pierced his heart.

It’s exactly as Nico feared.

This is not Will. This is something battered and broken, shattered to the point where it’s almost impossible to repair him.

Nico’s Sunshine Boy is gone.

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winterhawk-olympic-bang · 3 years

Text

Writer’s Workshop: How To End Your Story

How To End Your Story

Guest Poster: Flawedamythyst

We’re in the final furlong before the deadline for the first draft now, so it feels like a good time to talk about endings, and how to bring your story together to create a satisfactory one.

Have a read and then head over to the Discord Server where we have a channel for you to take part in a discussion based on the post, with chances to share your own ideas too.

How To End Your Story

There are traditionally six types of endings for a story:

Resolved ending - one with no lingering questions or loose ends. (Most murder mysteries and romances fall into this category.)

Unresolved ending - the kind of ending that leaves the reader with more questions than answers. (Usually for books that are part of a series. A lot of the HP books have endings like this.)

Expanded ending - expands the world of the story beyond the events of the narrative itself, with a time jump forward or a change in PoV.

Unexpected ending - a twist ending that the reader doesn’t see coming, but that should seem inevitable in hindsight.

Ambiguous ending - one that’s open to interpretation. Unlike an unresolved one, it leaves things to be interpreted by the reader so they have to decide themselves how it goes.

Tied ending - that brings the story full circle, and ends exactly where it began. Often the case for ‘Hero’s Journey’ type stories, where the hero ends up back home at the end.

You can read more about them here: https://boords.com/storytelling/how-to-end-a-story or here: https://www.masterclass.com/articles/ways-to-end-your-story but also in multiple other articles online just by Googling ‘Six Ways To End A Story’.

But, of course, they don’t really tell you how to work out which one your story needs, or how to write one of them without falling into any of the traps that ends with an unsatisfying ending.

Motivation

Of course, often the hardest bit with an ending is actually getting there. Losing motivation is so easy, especially when you’re writing something super-long. I know lots of people get motivation by posting as they go and using comments/kudos as a spur, or even just by talking about it on Tumblr or other places and letting other people’s excitement buoy them up, but a Bang event like WHOB doesn’t allow for that.

I’m going to talk a bit about ways to motivate yourself when you’re having to keep things secret from all but a handful of people, but bear in mind that this is something that really is very individual. Everyone writes for different reasons, and so everyone’s path to staying motivated is different.

For me, I think it comes down to focusing on why am I writing this story to start with? Any time I feel myself flagging, I think back to that reason and re-capture the original feeling I had about it. Often there’s a couple of different reasons.

For example, when I was writing Look What The Cat Dragged In, my motivations when I wrote the first line were:

I want all of fandom to share with me the image of the Winter Soldier waking Clint up to threaten him while gently cradling a kitten in his hands, and

I was writing it as a present for @kangofu-cb.

So, if I flagged at all, I was able to either reread that moment with Bucky holding the kitten and think ‘wow, I really do thing people will enjoy this mental image’, or I was able to think ‘I want my friend to have a nice thing’, and that helped me drive on and push through.

A lot of my personal motivations come down to ‘I want to share this scene/witty one-liner/visual of Clint pole dancing while dressed as Captain America with people’, so often just rereading what I’ve already done is really motivating for me, plus it also gives me the chance to see just how much I’ve already done, and what I would be dooming to be unfinished if I just walked away without pushing through.

You might well have different motivations though, which are equally valid. Maybe you started a fic for this event because you wanted to get a shiny badge, or to do something that your friends were doing, or you wanted to prove to yourself that you could write something longer than usual or outside of your usual wheelhouse. It may feel harder now than it did when you had that first idea, but that doesn’t change why you wanted to do it, and it’s actually easier now than it was when you started, because you’ve already done some of it.

And, if none of those motivations work for you, there’s always spite. ‘Oh, my brain gremlins think I can’t finish this? Fuck those guys, I’m going to prove those assholes so very, very wrong’ is completely how I powered through to finish my first ever novel-length fic, a million years and several fandoms ago.

Resolution vs Ending

So, let’s move on to the ending itself.

There are two parts to writing an ending: there’s the plot resolution and how that all gets tied up, and there’s the actual ending of the fic - the last scene, and the last place the reader sees the characters.

Sometimes the resolution happens only at the very end of a story and so those are the same thing, but I tend to think that makes things feel a bit abrupt. Especially for fics, which tend to be more character-driven than mainstream media and so need a wind down on how the characters react to the end of the plot for the reader. (This isn’t always true, of course, some plots do tie up neatly in the final scene. Every story is different and you’re the person best placed to judge what’s needed in your fic.)

So when you’re thinking about the ending, think about both parts. ‘How does this plot resolve itself?’ and ‘where do I want to leave these characters in the readers’ mind’s eye?’

Plotting a Story Resolution

You may well have already got a resolution worked out as part of your planning, but what if that ending doesn’t seem to fit any more, or you realise just as you get to it that you forgot to think about an ending at all and have no idea where to go?

First of all, don’t panic! If the rest of the story is there, you’ll be able to pull together the strands to create the best ending. Trust the bones of your story.

When I’m facing a blank page and no real idea of how I’m getting from the Depths of Despair moment to the happy ending, the first thing I do is reread the whole story in case that sparks a fantastic, fully-formed idea to appear on how to tie it all up. Mostly that doesn’t work, which is always disappointing, but it’s still a good place to start, because you have the whole run of the fic fresh in your head to plan from.

The next thing I do is make a list of all the things that I know definitely need to happen for the plot to be done. These don’t need to be in any particular order at this point and they don’t need to link up, you just need a list of what needs to go into the framework, however minor. ‘Clint wears Bucky’s hoodie and Bucky is smitten’ is a totally valid plot point to include, or even ‘include mention of recurring joke about muffins’. If you know something needs to be resolved but you don’t know how yet, just putting ‘resolve plot point with badgers’ is fine. Hopefully once you’ve started thinking through all the different bits, you’ll work out what’s going to happen to the badgers, and it’ll make sure you know it needs to be included somewhere.

If you have a beta/cheer reader who can help, it’s also super helpful to ask them what they would expect from the ending based on what they’ve read so far, or what elements from earlier in the story they think will be coming back/will turn out to be foreshadowing. Sometimes you’ll find you’ve written the clues to your ending into the earlier bits without really noticing, and you can throw them down on the list to be included as well.

Once you have everything you know needs to be included, you can shift them around into a rough order you think they need to go in, and start filling in the gaps. For example, if ‘Clint gets injured’ is there, you can add in ‘Bucky tends to his wounds’ as the obvious next step and maybe that would be a good time to throw in a muffin joke, and then Clint might need to borrow a hoodie if his shirt has blood on it, so you can tick those bits off as well.

It gets easier to see where the gaps are once you have it written out, even if it’s only things that you already knew would need to happen. Having it down in black and white helps your brain to move pieces around like a jigsaw puzzle, and start extrapolating on what comes in the gaps between.

Make The Ending Fit The Story

Think about what kind of story it’s been so far, and make sure that the ending you come up with fits in with it.

You’ll know the general feeling that you wanted for the fic when you started writing, so that will give you a solid idea on how the ending needs to go. (Often for me this feeling is ‘schmoopy and loved up’, because I’m a softie. A lot of what I’m doing when I’m writing a fic is just clearing out of the way any obstacles that are going to get in the way of my characters being schmoopy and loved up. When there’s nothing left in the way, that’s when I know it’s the end of the story.)

You also need to keep the tone and pacing of your fic the same, and make sure that your ending matches up so it all feels like it fits together. This includes keeping the pace the same as it had been, no matter how tempting it is to rush through so you can get the thing finished already, or slow right down so you can add in a few thousand more words.

Along with sticking to the tone you’ve set for the fic, try not to genre-shift - if you’ve written an action-packed zombie apocalypse fic, resolving the plot with domestic schmoop isn’t a great idea. The reader is invested in the style of story that you’ve written so far, so pulling the rug out on them will only give them whiplash, a vague sense of dissatisfaction or a persistent nagging feeling that zombies are about to attack.

Unless you’ve written a domestic schmoop zombie AU of course, in which case I would read the hell out of it. ‘Curtain!fic but sometimes the undead interrupt’ sounds like a lot of fun.

And finally, make sure you maintain your characterisation. If the ending you want involves your character doing something wildly out-of-character, then that’s not the right ending. (I like to call this an Endgame!Steve ending. No, I’m not over that.) Even if your audience is invested in your story enough to overlook the incongruence, they will be having to overlook it rather than feeling fully invested in the journey you’ve created.

Chekov’s Gun

The most satisfying endings are the ones that tie up most, if not all, of the loose ends, and provide an emotional pay-off equivalent to the build-up. If you’ve been talking about something big that might or might not happen, and then it doesn’t, it’s narratively frustrating. In the same way, if you drop something big in that doesn’t really fit with what went before, it’s going to make the story feel unbalanced.

Obviously that doesn’t mean you can’t have a surprise or twist ending but even if the reader is surprised by something happening, they still want to feel like they’re reading the same story. They need to look back with hindsight of knowing the twist and see how it fits in, and not how it stands out.

A good rule to follow is the Chekov’s Gun rule: If there’s a gun on the table in the first act, someone needs to shoot it in the second act. If you’ve been teasing something, make sure the pay-off is there.

And, of course, if someone’s going to be firing a gun at the end, go back and make sure it gets mentioned earlier in the story. It doesn’t need to be a heavy-handed anvil, but if you can drop in casual hints about guns earlier in the story, the whole thing feels more cohesive and thought out. No one needs to know that you only put those hints in after you’d finished the whole thing.

Loose Ends

Something I always like to do when I’m plotting exactly how the ending is going to go, is to go back through the whole fic and make a list of anything that feels like it could be a loose end if it didn’t get resolved. (If I’m having a problem working out my ending, often this happens at the same time as writing down all my ending plot points, as I described above.)

Some of those are obvious, like ‘Bucky and Clint need to kiss’, but some are less so. Did Clint think about how much he just wants to be done with all the drama so he can snuggle with his dog? Maybe throw in some Lucky cuddles somewhere in the finale so he gets the emotional pay-off. Has Bucky mentioned really want to punch a bad guy in particular in the face? Give him a chance to smack that asshole around a bit. Has there been a minor relationship drama along the way, like someone leaving their socks lying around? Have them either make a point of putting them away, or the other person just rolling their eyes and accepting it as a part of being with them.

It’s also important to think about where your secondary characters are going to end up, and if it feels like they’ve had an arc that needs resolving. Has there been another pairing with a bit of screen time or some background drama? Give them a chance to make out/make up. Has the bad guy done something that affected one of the other Avengers? Let them have a slice of revenge along the way.

For example, in my plan for Be All You Can Be, one of the original characters I introduced as other soldiers doing Basic Training, Havelka, didn’t turn up again after he’d been kicked back a level to another training unit. When I reread that, it became clear that he needed to prove himself somehow or his arc would be a depressing downward slope partially instigated by Clint and Bucky, so I brought him back at the end to do some First Aid and gave him a line or two to point to how his future was going to go, so the reader knew he was going to be okay.

You don’t have to completely resolve everything of course, and sometimes it is nice to leave a couple of things up to the reader’s imagination, but it’s nice for the reader if there’s a sense of things being tied up in a little bow.

Ending

So, you’ve resolved your plot, how are you going to handle the actual final ending?

Depending on how your story has gone, you might not need much after the resolution, or you may need several epilogue-y type scenes just to make sure everything is wrapped up.

Take a moment to think about what feeling you want the reader to take away from the fic. If it’s a romance, do you want to end with a warm fuzz of ‘aw cute’? If it’s been an angsty dig down into Clint or Bucky’s mental health issues, do you want a sense of optimism or catharsis? If there’s been a lot of action and drama, do you want a bit of peace and quiet for your characters to signal it’s all over with?

The best way to end any story is with a sense of hope, even if you’ve not gone for a completely happy ending, or have left yourself open for a sequel with some unresolved plot points. You want the reader to feel at least in some way uplifted. After all, regardless of whatever else has gone before, that’s the emotion they’ll have when they get faced with the Kudos button and the Comment box, so you need them in a good mood, right?

When you know what kind of feeling you want your ending to have, that will give you a major clue as to what the characters should be doing in the final scene.

One thing that can work well is bringing back something from the first scene or two and twisting it to be part of the ending. For example, at the beginning of Be All You Can Be Clint uses the song Make A Man Out Of You from Mulan as a way to torture Bucky, and then at the end, they watch the movie together while snuggling.

You do have to be careful not to be too heavy handed with that, and it doesn’t work in every fic, but I do like the feeling of ‘things coming full circle’ that you can get from doing it.

Afterglow vs. Too Much Ending

I always think that good stories come with a certain amount of ‘afterglow’: Just a scene or two to round things out and give a pointer towards the future.

For example, in general, I don’t like stories that end with a first kiss, which is one of several reasons I usually find Hollywood romcoms unsatisfying. It feels like too much of a beginning, and leaves too many questions open about how things are actually going to go for the couple in question. As part of a complete ending, it feels more satisfying to have an ‘epilogue’-y type scene afterwards that will give you a sense of how things went from there, even if it’s just a couple of paragraphs about them planning their first date.

I’m sure we can all think of other times we’ve read or watched something and had a moment of ‘oh, was that it?’ after the last sentence/when the credits rolled. Abrupt endings without a bit of afterglow can leave the reader blinking a little and wondering where their damn cuddles are.

That said, you also don’t want to go too far in the opposite direction. If the plot is over, there’s no need to keep going with multiple scenes of fluff or porn that doesn’t really add anything. We don’t need to see their whole lives mapped out, and it can get fairly dull once the tension of the plot is over. Ask yourself if the three chapters of them having sex on every flat surface in their apartment is actually necessary, or if some of them can be cut and used as one-shot sequel/missing scene fics.

In general if it’s not adding to either the narrative or emotional arcs, try to cap it at a scene or two. Just enough to feel like you’ve had a bit of post-climactic afterglow, but not so much that it’s starting to drag.

In Conclusion…

Ending a fic is, in so many ways, the most satisfying part of writing. You got right the way through your plot to the end! You did all the writing! Your characters made it through to their happy/sad/ambiguous endings! You deserve all the gold stars!

You just want your reader to feel the same way, by making sure the ending fits with what came before, ties up all the ends that need tying up, and leaves them with a deep glow of whatever feeling you want the overall story to convey.

And then you just need to do the editing, but that’s a workshop for another day...

#winterhawk olympic bang #WHOB #winterhawk #writer workshops #writer workshop: endings #guest post #flawedamythyst

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imaginarysonder · 3 years

Text

Plush

Pairing: Jackson Wang x OC (reader)

Genre: Fluff, the TINIEST bit of angst

Word Count: 3.8K (yikes)

Description: Jackson buys you something cute to remember him by when he’s travelling, but it upsets his life more than he thinks it will.

A/N: Super squishy marshmallow fluff for Got7′s Jackson. Been all up in the feels since the beginning of the year about EVERYTHING. So here’s my way of coping.

Jackson was not prepared for the upset in his life when he brought your seemingly simple present home. He chuckled to himself as he tried to hide the bag behind his body as he entered your shared apartment. “Babe?” he called.

You rounded the corner to the entryway and smiled at him. He shrugged off his jacket and toed of his shoes. “Hi, love,” you said approaching him choosing to ignore the shopping bag he was poorly hiding behind him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed the side of your head to his chest. He didn’t hug back as he struggled to keep the bag contained. You smiled slyly at him as you reached up to kiss him lightly. “Should I even ask?” you whispered against his lips.

Jackson chuckled before pressing his lips to yours again. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied pulling himself out of your embrace to brush past you into the kitchen. He set the bag down on the kitchen counter as he opened the fridge. You rolled your eyes at his back as you returned to your position on the couch. You focused your attention on the emails you had been returning and adding to your calendar of meetings and appointments. You were vaguely aware of Jackson shutting the fridge and making his way over to the couch next to you with the large shopping bag. The two of you sat in silence next to each other for a short time, Jackson practically vibrating next to you in anticipation.

“So,” Jackson began and coughed awkwardly.

You minimized your emails and closed your laptop to give him your full attention. “Hm?” you hummed at him.

“You know how I’m leaving tomorrow for a few weeks?” he asked even though he knew you were well aware.

“Mm,” you hummed again in agreement. “Team Wang engagements in Hong Kong and Shanghai,” you confirmed. “I know, babe. It’s been on my calendar since you booked the plane ticket.”

He nodded. “Well, I know you don’t like it when I buy you things,” he paused at your raised eyebrow, “but I thought you could use this to keep you company while I was away.” He scooted the shopping back towards you and you finally got a good look at it. It was LARGE and bulged slightly as its contents didn’t fit well within it’s shape. You furrowed your brows at him and a small frown pulled at the corners of your mouth. One of the ground rules you had laid when you and Jackson started dating had been no unnecessary gifts. Receiving gifts was always hard for you. “It’s practical, I promise,” Jackson assured you as he pushed the back closer to you.

You sighed but placed a hand on the bag. Jackson started vibrating again in excitement. You held your breath as you looked in the bag. A large, squishy-mochi-like penguin plushie smiled back at you from the depths of the bag. You pulled it out and squished it experimentally between your hands. It was fat and soft and the size of a standard nine-year-old.

“I thought it could keep you company while I’m gone,” Jackson explained hurriedly as he watched you look at the penguin with a blank expression. “I hugged every plush they had, this one seemed the best size and softness.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of Jackson hugging every stuffed animal in the store he ended up going to. You hugged the penguin to you. It fit perfectly under your chin and its softness in your arms immediately felt calming. You snuggled into it and sighed. “You like it?” Jackson asked hesitantly.

You closed your eyes and nodded as you pressed the penguin closer to you. “He won’t replace you, but he’ll do,” you whispered.

It was the crack of dawn the next morning. You were yawning and watching as Jackson made tea in a travel mug and pulled on his shoes with his suitcase parked by the front door. You pressed him against the wall as he kissed you breathless. Silent I’ll miss you’s were passed between the two of you as you had to pull yourself away from him. He pressed you to his chest as you listened to his heart beat wildly in his chest. You smiled glad you still had some sort of effect on him. Jackson looked down at you smiling wistfully as he traced your pulsating jugular. Too soon he was gone.

The weeks that Jackson was gone felt long, but you were glad you had work to distract you and the large stuffed penguin to fill the empty space in your bed. Very quickly, the penguin became your go to comfort item instead of Jackson’s shirts or his small spray of cologne he left for you. You kept finding yourself reaching for the soft plush when you longed for Jackson. The softness under your fingers and squish between your arms comforted you more. You often sent Jackson pictures with it tucked under your arm or held it in your lap as you FaceTimed him.

“So, I take it you like your present?” Jackson teased you via FaceTime. He was laying on his stomach on some hotel room bed his hair messy and his eyes tired but not without a hint of mischievous twinkle in them.

You hugged the penguin closer to your chest and smiled wider. “You could say that,” you replied cheekily. “He’s been keeping me company.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Jackson said tiredly running a hand over his face. “I should have bought myself one too,” he chuckled.

“I’ll get you one for your birthday,” you assured him.

He was shaking his head before you even finished your sentence. “I want you instead,” he said quickly. “I don’t need a penguin when I have you.”

You felt yourself blush immediately and looked down in embarrassment.

“How do you still get embarrassed when I say stuff like that?” Jackson laughed at you.

You shrugged blushing harder, your ears feeling hot. “I don’t know,” you murmured. “It’s always different when you say it.”

Jackson laughed. His eyes crinkling at the edges just how you loved. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Everything is different when it’s us, huh?”

“Just you,” you chided him.

“No,” he shot back. “You have the same effect on me, dummy.”

“You’re better at hiding it then,” you laughed.

“I don’t want to hide it from you,” he murmured. “I’m just better at playing it off,” he chuckled lowly. There was a long pause and both of you just basked in each other’s company. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” he sighed.

“Mm,” you hummed in agreement. “I miss you,” you sighed.

He smiled weakly at you but you could see the excitement shining through his fatigue. You said your goodbyes and he blew you a kiss before the both of you reluctantly hung up to sleep.

You woke the next day with your faithful penguin under your arm. You squeezed him excitedly as you remembered that Jackson was coming home today. You got up quickly and went about your day in the house cleaning as you went. You settled on the couch as you finished watching the laundry tumble round and round in the washer. Jackson wasn’t due in until this evening and then with the drive from the airport you estimated he wouldn’t be at the apartment until 8 or 9PM. You sighed glancing at the clock, it was only noon. You clicked on the TV and opened your laptop. You might as well work while you had some quiet time. You opened your emails and immediately regretted it. You sighed and cracked your knuckled getting ready to see what dumpster fire you’d have to put out now.

You glanced outside. Somehow the afternoon had bled into early evening and into night. You looked at the clock on your laptop, it was already 7PM. You sighed and stretched before getting up and grabbing your stuffed penguin from your bedroom. You gazed longingly at the front door willing it to open soon. You jumped as your phone buzzed on the couch next to you. It was a call from Jackson. You picked up quickly. “Hello?”

“Hi, baby,” you heard his voice call over the phone. He sounded tired.

“Hi,” you breathed. “Are you on the ground?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah, just landed,” Jackson confirmed. “They’re just starting to unload the plane.”

You nodded even though you knew Jackson couldn’t see you. “So, you’ll be home soon,” you murmured glancing at the clock again. “I should get dinner going.” Even though you kept your voice calm, you could feel the excitement bubbling up in your chest.

“Do you want me to pick something up on the way?” Jackson asked. “I can stop by that restaurant you like…”

He trailed off and you could hear shuffling on the other end of the line as you assumed Jackson was standing and gathering his belongings before getting off the plane. “No, Jacks,” you murmured cutting off his thought process. “Just come home to me.”

You heard Jackson chuckled lowly. “I’m on my way, baby,” he said firmly. “I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Can’t wait.” He hung up first and you couldn’t help but hug your penguin as your body tried to contain all the feelings you had for that man. It felt like your heart might literally burst with how much you felt for Jackson. As you pressed down your beating heart, you estimated Jackson would be home in about thirty minutes. You quickly called in take-out at yours and his favorite local restaurant and went to go get changed to pick it up.

There was a small skip in your step as you walked back from the restaurant with the bag of take-out cradled in your arms. You pressed the key pad to be let into you apartment building and rounded the corner to the elevators. Time seemed to slow as you saw a man standing in front of the elevators with his back to you a large suitcase at his side. You knew that silhouette anywhere and you almost dropped the take-out. “Jacks?” you called out.

Time seemed to go even slower as he turned to look at you. He plucked out his airpods and a smile began to stretch its way across his face. “Well, hi, baby,” he replied as you came closer. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked eyeing the bag in your arms.

You nodded and grinned up at him.

“God, you’re the best,” he sighed pulling you closer by your elbow. He leaned down to press a firm kiss to your forehead. You felt him inhale deeply against your skin and you held back your laugh. “You smell so good,” he murmured lips moving against your skin softly, “like home.”

You let your laugh out then. “You dork,” you teased him, but you also leaned in and pressed your face to his shoulder so you could catch a small whiff of him. He smelled like home to you.

The elevator finally dinged and the two of you entered, Jackson rolling his suitcase behind him. On the way up, he took the take-out out of your arms and placed it gingerly on top of his suitcase so he could pull you into his firm embrace. One thing you learned quickly in yours and Jackson’s relationship was his strong love language of physical touch. You had never known you craved so much physical touch from another person until Jackson. Many of your previous relationships had been what you thought were a normal amount of physical interaction; holding hands, soft kisses, hugs, cuddling, etc, but everyone of them paled in comparison to Jackson and his need to be touching you in some way. You could always decipher his mood based on the type of contact he made with you. It made you feel like you understood him better as well as feel loved and appreciated.

You felt Jackson sigh against you melting into you a little. “I missed you and this so much,” he admitted. “I needed your touch so badly while I was away. You always make me feel better even if I’m already happy.”

You blushed wildly at his words and you tried to push down the flames of embarrassment.

“Stop blushing, babe,” Jackson said and you could hear the smile in his voice. It didn’t escape you that he didn’t even have to see your face to know that you were red with embarrassment.

Before you could reply, the elevator doors opened and you pulled away from him picking up the take-out bag and trying to hide your blush from him sheepishly. You could feel Jackson’s eyes burning into your back as you made your way to your apartment’s front door and punch in the passcode to the door. It beeped open and you held the door open for Jackson to wheel his suitcase in. After he passed you, you followed in and set down the bag to take out to off your shoes.

Once the door clicked shut behind you and you had straightened up, you were pushed back against the door and smothered. Your tip toes barely touched the floor as Jackson’s body crowded you against the door his lips pressed firmly against yours. One of his arms was locked around your waist and the other snaked up your back to hold the back of your head so there was no escaping him. You rested your hands on his shoulders and smiled into his urgent kisses. “I missed you too,” you gasped between the flurry of lips.

Jackson pulled back a fraction and nuzzled his face deep into your neck groaning. “I’m never going anywhere ever again,” he whispered. The feel of his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin on your neck made you shiver.

“Oh?” you asked in mock surprise. Jacksons hand on your waist snuck a few fingers under your shirt to feel your bare skin. “So, no more Team Wang stuff?” you asked jokingly. “No more overseas Got7 tours? No more traveling? No more seeing your family?” You knew the last one was the nail in the coffin.

Jackson huffed and pressed a chaste kiss to the underside of your jaw. “You made your point,” he grumbled into your neck.

You laughed and pushed him off of you swiping up the take-out and waving it at him enticingly as you made your way to the kitchen. The two of you caught up over dinner and he told you about all the Team Wang planning he had been doing and the new members of his team and the possibilities in the future. You felt your heart swell in your chest as you watched him talk about one of his passions so openly. You hoped every dream he ever had came true and you hoped you would be there to see it happen.

“Anyways,” Jackson cut himself off, “what have you been doing, babe?” He effectively shut himself up by shoveling a large bite of food into his mouth.

You smiled weakly as you felt your life was nothing special compared to his despite all of Jackson’s reassurance. “Not much,” you replied breaking your gaze off of him. “You know, the usual emails and I went into the company a few times for meetings and to supervise directly. It’s hard when they keep replacing team members without telling me.”

Jackson nodded knowingly even though you knew he hand-selected every team member in his company. “You should just work for me,” Jackson said grinning at you.

“We’ve talked about this, Jacks,” you said meeting his gaze.

His smile faltered and he nodded. “I know,” he conceded easily. “You need your autonomy.”

“I have no doubt you’d treat me better than my own company,” you reassured him, “but working for you poses a lot of problems in and of itself. It’s not because I don’t love the idea.”

“Someday it’ll make sense for both of us,” he said smiling at you.

You cleaned up the kitchen while Jackson went to unpack and shower. When he emerged from the bathroom with damp hair, you were snuggled on the couch with a random TV show playing and the stuffed penguin tucked in your arms. Jackson smiled at the fact that now you reached for it unconsciously. He plopped down on the couch next to you and pulled you closer. Jackson tried to reach his arms around he both of you, but they weren’t long enough to lock around you like he usually did. You laughed as he shifted a little and wiggled his arms and hands around until he wedged them between your body and the squish of the penguin. “This is new,” he muttered to himself but you couldn’t help but laugh harder at him.

Over the next few days, Jackson noticed that the penguin got in his way and disrupted his daily life more than expected. The both of you were working from home for the time being and the normal amount of affection he received from you was reduced by almost 80%, or at least he thought so in his own mind. When he woke up in the mornings, he wouldn’t find you tucked against his side like usual. Instead, you were spooning the penguin facing away from him as you continued to sleep peacefully. When you were working on the couch, he would reach out for your hand where it usually rested close to him if he needed you. Instead, both you arms would be wrapped securely around the penguin as you hugged it tightly while you worked. Instead of couple snuggles on the couch, it was suddenly a throuple with a very fat, squishy addition. You also opted to wrap yourself around the penguin instead of throwing your legs over his legs or resting your head on his chest. Jackson tried to convinced himself it was nothing to be concerned about, that it was just you loving the gift he got you and acting out of habit due to him being gone for so long. He tried to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t help but feel a little sadder and a little more distanced from you like you were ignoring him. His pride refused to let him think he was jealous of a stuffed penguin and he refused to talk to you about it for fear of seeming petty. So, he let the penguin get in his way for a lot longer than he would hae liked.

One day, Jackson came back from the mart while you stayed home to finish the laundry. He came into the living room to find the penguin wearing one of his shirts baggily. His eye bugged out of his head and the penguin’s smiling face seemed to mock him evilly. That was the last straw. The penguin was already stealing his girl and now his wardrobe? It was unacceptable. Jackson banged the bag of groceries down on the kitchen island and went to find you. You met him in the hallway startled by the loud noise. Jackson grabbed your hand and dragged you to the living room pointing accusingly at the penguin in his shirt. “What is that?” he asked in frustration.

Your eyes followed his finger to the couch and the penguin. You giggled. “I missed you when you went to the mart, so I put that on him like a mini-Jackson. Isn’t he cute?” you explained cheerfully. You met his eyes and your cheer faded quickly as you saw the upset in his eyes. “Wait, Jacks, what’s wrong?” you asked suddenly serious. “I was just messing around. Did I upset you?”

Jackson sighed and took your hand. He tried his best to push down his annoyance and when that happened, the empty emotional space allowed him to feel the rising embarrassment. The tips of his ears began to burn as he thought about what he was about to confess. “I just feel like ever since I got back from Shanghai, you like that penguin more than me,” he muttered. His eyes were glued to the floor.

You had to bite back you laughter even though you knew this was a serious situation. Your hand snaked up to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. “Oh, Jacks,” you murmured. Jackson was resistant at first to you tugging him closer, but the minute your lips molded to his neck, all defiant thoughts in him vanished. He felt his knees go weak and he let you maneuver him so he leaned against the wall. His hands limply rested on your shoulders as you continued to pepper kisses up and down his neck, up onto his jawline and behind his ears. He shivered in your grasp and that only prompted you to nip at his jugular. After what felt like hours of soft kisses, light nips, and grazes of teeth and tongue, you pulled away to look up at him. His eyes were glassy and a burning blush raged across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. His parted lips were pink from gnawing on them and his breath came out a little ragged. His large hands settled on your hips and your arms wound around his neck. You leaned into his embrace so you could speak in his ear. “So, you’re telling me,” you murmured, “that you’re jealous of the stuffed penguin you bought me?”

Jackson shivered again and groaned as his forehead fell onto your shoulder. “When you say it like that, it sounds pathetic,” he whined boyishly.

You laughed and lifted his face to look at you so you could kiss him. “Yeah, just a little bit,” you whispered to him. “But, I’m sorry if I made you feel neglected. I know how much you recharge with just a simple hug or kiss. You were gone so long that it just became a quick habit. Forgive me?” You pressed your nose into his neck and sighed. Your heart squeezed a little at the thought of you unknowingly causing him unnecessary hurt.

Jackson sighed as he looked into your eyes before pulling you flush against him. “I know and I forgive you, baby. I’m glad you love him, but you can’t love him more than me.” He couldn’t deny that feeling you in his arms and having your undivided attention was all he wanted and all he would ever want when it came to you. His arms pressed you harder against him as he willed your body to melt into his.

You laughed into Jackson’s neck. “That’s impossible,” you assured him. “I love you best of all.”

#got7 jackson #jacksonwang #jackson wang #got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 jackson fluff #got7 jackson scenarios #igot7 #got7forever #jackson wang fluff

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ackerslut · 3 years

Text

should i stay (or should i go)

ao3

Varian sits on the cold-stone steps.

His own screams still echo in his ears. It’s only been a few hours since-since-

But it feels like it’s been a lifetime.

The sun is slowly rising, heating up the well-beaten town roads, and shining windows and the very steps Varian’s been sitting on for the past three hours. It peeks over the walls of the city, rays unfurling out in every direction. It’s a familiar sight, one he’d seen in the sky every morning until his imprisonment and one that he’s seen in Rapunzel’s magic...everything. He’s seen her hair and her eyes and her smile glow both metaphorically and literally as bright as the star lighting their planet.

He thinks he hates it.

Behind him, the castle looms like a thousand eyes watching, waiting to devour. He feels like it’s going to collapse on him, swallow him up. It’s a far cry from how he used to feel about Corona Castle. Before, it used to be a sanctuary, a warm, welcoming place that he could go to for a friend or protection. Now, Varian sees it for what it is. A prison.

The sun may be warming the town, but the palace shadow cast over Varian chills him to the bone.

The castle has been Varian’s prison for about a year. Well, until yesterday, at least. It’s been a prison for those deserving, like Andrew and his gang of thugs, and a prison for those undeserving, like Rapunzel last night and Eugene many years ago. Varian doesn’t know if he was deserving of that cell or not, but now? Now, it doesn’t matter, because Rapunzel had dragged him out, dragged him out of the prison he’d been thrown in physically by her father’s decree and dragged prison he’d thrown himself in metaphorically since the day of the amber, dragged him out into her light, demanding that-that-

Rapunzel.

He doesn’t hold it against her, not really.

Not anymore.

When she’d taken him back to Olde Corona and put a bucket in his hands and said stop me if you have to and whispered in a voice not hers, Varian had been terrified, but had listened. Had trusted. When the amber broke into a million pieces, revealing a truth that Varian had known for a very long time, his terror faded into numbness.

He doesn’t remember much of the journey back to Corona, just that Rapunzel had spoken in very soft voices and said very gentle things to him that he can’t remember.

Rapunzel had been rushed off the minute she entered the city. King Fredrick and Queen Arianna’s memories were still pretty fried, so all of their duties had fallen to the exhausted princess. She had tried to keep Varian with her, but with the townfolk still angry at him and the millions of orders and duties Rapunzel now had to delegate, Varian had quietly reassured her that he was fine for the time being and would find her later.

She had been reluctant. Perhaps, if Varian had been more present he would have remembered the last time she’d left him in the name of duty, but right now? He didn’t really care.

So here he is, on the stone steps of the palace, watching the sunrise on the first day empty of his dad.

(He known. Of course he’d known. Varian wasn’t an idiot.)

As the sun lights up the town, its people also start rising. The place is soon filled with noise as shops open and repairmen work and children play and women gossip and men argue and animals clop through the town.

“Hey,” a low voice says behind him. Varian glances briefly over his shoulder. It’s Lance. Varian’s spoken to the guy a couple of times but doesn’t really know who he is besides Eugene’s childhood best friend. Varian doesn’t have the energy to even try to drudge up any kind of a response, so he turns back to looking at the sky.

The guy doesn’t seem bothered by his lack of response though. He settles down with approximately a foot’s distance between him and Varian. He has a dish of stacked cucumber sandwiches in one hand. He offers one to Varian who just stares at him. Shrugging, Lance retracts his hand, instead giving the sandwich to a subdued Ruddiger, who’s curled around Varian’s feet.

“It’s a little cold out here to be without a jacket,” Lance says, after a long pause.

Varian shrugs. He’s aware, intellectually, that he’s cold right now, but the rest of him doesn’t really feel it.

“Might be warmer inside,” Lance presses on, regardless.

Varian stares down at his shoes, at Ruddiger, shivering on them. He nudges the raccoon gently with one foot. His companion chirps at him, pulling at his pant leg with one paw. Ruddiger doesn’t deserve to be cold just because Varian wants to die out here. Varian stands up.

Lance stands up with him, casual expression falling away to relief. He places a hand on Varian’s shoulder and gently guides him inside. Ruddiger follows the two at a close distance. The inside of the castle is still undergoing repairs. The floor is broken and burned and the walls are scratched and torn and the place vaguely smells like chemicals.

Varian is carefully lead past all that, upstairs, toward where Varian knows the guest chambers are. This particular part of the castle looks mostly untouched. If Varian could feel something right now, it would be relief. He’s had enough of destruction to last him a lifetime.

Eugene meets them in the hallway. He stops short when he sees Varian, expression going carefully blank. Ruddiger makes a sound, low in his throat. Lance firmly grips Varian’s shoulder. He can’t tell if it’s meant to be reassuring or to hold him in place. It doesn’t matter. Varian’s done running.

“I think Varian should get some sleep,” Lance says when Eugene stays silent.

Varian doesn’t offer an opinion on that. He stares up at Eugene. The guy looks tired-really tired like today is just the last day in a string of very bad days....which honestly sounds about accurate when reading between the lines of what Rapunzel had let slip. Varian knows something happened between them and Cass, but things had been too chaotic to glen any kind of answer and now-

Now Varian doesn’t really care.

Eugene must see something in Varian’s expression-probably his lack of expression-because something in his tense stance changes minutely. He gives a short nod, indicating a door to their left. Lance says something back to him, something that Varian misses, and then he’s pushing Varian through the door, into the room.

Varian’s only ever been in one of the castle bedrooms-Rapunzel’s at once point, he thinks-and even though this is far smaller, it’s still twice as grand as anywhere he’s ever stayed. The windows a huge and the ceiling is vaulted and the bed could fit like seven people in it easily. The carpet is an expensive blue shag that Varian kind of wants to collapse onto and never get up again, but Lance would probably just peel him off the floor and give him that worried expression again so he doesn’t. Instead, he stares at the room and then back to Lance.

“You should sleep,” Lance reiterates. “We can sort everything when you wake up.”

Varian doesn’t want to know what that means, so he just nods and slowly makes his way toward the bed. When Lance still doesn’t leave, Varian obediently perches on the edge of it. That seems to put Lance’s mind at ease, because then he finally leaves, telling Varian he’ll be back in a few hours. Once the door clicks shut, Varian jumps back onto his feet.

The bed’s too soft.

Varian sits down on the ornate chaise by the massive lit fireplace. It’s comfortable enough that he melts into the cushions, but not too comfortable like the bed. With Ruddiger curled up on his lap, he watches the fire for a while until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and then it’s with great reluctance that he lets himself fall asleep.

When Varian wakes up, there’s a blanket draped over him. The fire is almost embers and judging by the position of the sun, it’s midday. On the end table, by the chaise, there’s a tray of...it smells like breakfast food. Varian pulls the cloth up to reveal a full breakfast-porridge, bread rolls, eggs, bacon, toast, juice, milk, water... It’s almost like someone couldn’t decide what to get him. Or, more likely, rich people actually have enough money to afford this kind of breakfast every single morning.

At that thought, something sour curls in Varian’s stomach. He drops the towel back onto the tray, but not before he grabs a few bread rolls to stuff his pockets with. He tosses some bacon to Ruddiger, who devours it immediately.

The hallway is deserted when he leaves the room. Varian wanders down the length of it, trying to keep his footsteps as quiet as possible. They still echo obnoxiously in the empty corridor along with Ruddiger’s quiet noises, but it’s the thought that counts. Varian makes his way down two flights of stairs, several corridors, and a courtyard before he finally comes across someone in one of the long, twisting halls.

It’s Rapunzel. Her usual immaculately braided hair is a mess and her eyes a red-rimmed like she’s been crying. She’s wearing different clothes than she had been earlier, much to Varian’s relief, indicating that she’s at least had time to change and maybe rest. It’s weird, caring about her after all this time. Anger is an emotion too strong for Varian to tangibly hold onto right now, though. It’s probably best to let it lie.

When her eyes meet Varian, her face kinda...falls.

Varian stops in his tracks. The two are about eight feet apart, silently staring at each other. Then,

“Varian,” Rapunzel says, voice quiet. There’s a warm undertone to it Varian doesn’t understand. “I hope you got some sleep,” she says, hesitantly, confirming Varian’s theory that it wasn’t her who’d given him the blanket. Probably Lance, then.

Varian just nods in response, hands clenched together in front of him. Ruddiger crawls up Varian’s side until he’s curled around his neck, face resting on his shoulder. The weight is comforting, grounding. Varian absentmindedly reaches up to pet him.

Rapunzel sighs. “I've been looking for you,” she goes on, taking a step toward him. Varian wants to take a step back, but forces his feet to stay planted. “Are you-”

“What happens now?” Varian can't keep the question from bursting out. His voice is cracked from disuse. “I-just tell me. Please.” He breaks on the please.

Rapunzel’s face softens. “Well,” she says, closing the distance between them and laying a hand on his shoulder. “I was hoping you'd stay with me.”

And that's the final straw. The grain of salt that tips the scales. Because it's bad enough that Rapunzel has gone to hell and back for him in the past twenty-four hours, bad enough that he's somehow gained the forgiveness of the one person who doesn't owe him anything, but for Rapunzel to offer her home, her life, to him?

Varian bursts into tears, hands coming up to hide his face.

“Oh-oh Varian-don't-” the hand on his shoulder squeezes and then pulls. “I'm sorry,” Rapunzel says, nonsensically as she folds him into her arms.

“You're not the one who needs to be sorry,” Varian sobs. “I-I knew, I knew, I knew, but I still-I still did it all even though I knew-”

Rapunzel shushes him, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair. “Varian, it's okay.”

“It's not okay!” he shouts, pulling away, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. “None of it is okay!”

Rapunzel’s eyes are glassy, like she's on the verge of tears herself. “Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, it's not-it's not.” She anxiously twists her dress in her hands. “But it's also not okay that you're hurting. Please, just-” Rapunzel lets out a whoosh of air. “Stay with me.”

Varian deflates. “I-what about your parents?” he mutters. He crosses his arms. “Your dad-”

“Is still amnesiac,” Rapunzel counters. “Let me worry about my parents. I just-...you’re my friend Varian. Let me make it up to you.”

Varian presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. He laughs. It sounds broken and gnashed. “Make it up to me,” he chokes. “I-there's literally nothing for you to make up for.”

“Isn't there?” Rapunzel's face is grave. It reminds him of last night after the incantation, after-

Varian takes a steadying breath. “Of course there isn't,” he says. Promises. Lies. “Of course there isn’t,” he repeats, like if it says it enough times he’ll believe it.

Rapunzel doesn’t. She smiles, sadly, but doesn’t call him out. “Then you’ll stay,” she says. Confirms.

Varian shuts his eyes, against her smile, against her forgiveness against her love and her stubbornness and her gentleness and her hypocrisy. “Okay,” he says, testing the word on his tongue. He opens his eyes. Rapunzel looks so relieved she might start crying this time. Varian doesn’t want that, doesn’t know how to handle someone else being an emotional mess right now, so he reaches out for her, slides his hand into hers.

“Okay,” he says again, more firmly. “I’ll stay.”

#quirin dies au #varian #rapunzel #lance strongbow #tangled the series #tts #tts au #my fic #tangled the series fanfic #tts fanfic

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casiavium · 3 years

Text

I've been editing old stuff instead of writing anything new so I'm going to post some of the parts of my fanfic that I don't hate and work well out of context!!

The crunch of leaves under Link's feet filled the forest, but for once, he wasn't afraid to alert others to his position. They were safe now.

Though it was hard to tell back in the perpetual springtime of Skyloft, time had passed since he fought Demise.

As the months wore on, the surface showed it. The stories of changing leaves and colder breezes that had been passed down for as long as anyone could remember turned out to be true. The world below was filled with brilliant reds and yellows, the air in Faron woods sharper than it had been before.

Link wasn't paying attention to where the path was leading him. He knew the woods well, even if they hadn't made the final move to the surface yet. He wasn't too worried about running into anything dangerous, as it seemed without a leader the bokoblins and moblins had vanished.

Though Faron appeared safe, Link wanted to wander farther. In the middle of their maps was a blank space where a kingdom once stood. He knew ruins laid there, hopefully with the answers to unsolved mysteries regarding gods and demons. Zelda wouldn't let him go alone, but the plans to move meant no one could be spared.

He sighed out loud, stopping in front of a fallen log. He didn't know the area beyond it very well, down a tunnel that looked like it was leading to a canyon. He really should turn back, people would start to worry. Climbing up the log onto the ledge, Link looked back out over the forest.

He wasn't familiar with the area. If he turned around now, he could head straight back the way he came, and be sure to end up at the Sealed Temple. Zelda was waiting for him there, discussing the future of both the surface and Skyloft with Groose. He had said he would be right back, he just needed a minute to get some air. They'd be looking for him soon...

Beyond the tunnel, a faint noise rang through the canyon. Link whipped around, sure he had imagined it. He hadn't heard the soft sound of bells for three months, not since he had left the Master Sword to rest in the past. Wandering farther down the path, Link ignored the instinct to head back.

He had been here before. A long time ago, now. Though the walls of the canyon hid it, Link knew a temple was sitting at the end, surrounded by a grove of trees and wildflowers unlike any others on the surface. The winding path dropped off abruptly in places, fraying rope the only way to cross.

It was dangerous. Alone, if something were to happen to him, he would be trapped. Not expecting to adventure today, he only carried a simple training sword.

At the bend of the path, a shadowy figure flickered at the edge of Link's vision. The chime rang through the canyon again, this time a little louder. When he turned to face the figure head on, the shadow disappeared.

Something was wrong, Link thought, as he felt himself follow the shadow. He had done this before, at the beginning of his quest, with Fi, but this time... the energy that was calling to him felt different. Like it wasn't meant for him. He still followed.

Link almost lost his balance crossing a rope bridge when the shadow appeared at the end. It was small, dark, and still. He couldn't recognize the outline, a vague humanoid, but the chime it sent out sounded so familiar he couldn't ignore it. A soon as he corrected himself, it was gone.

As he followed the path, Link began to worry. He could have been hallucinating the apparition, but more than likely, it was leading him somewhere. A thought crossed his mind that it was guiding him to certain death, luring in a victim with a false sense of security. At the back of his mind, probably the worst thing to have in this situation, was hope.

The similarities to Fi, but darker, different... Link knew it was dangerous to wish for, but he was praying to Hylia the shadow figure was Ghirahim, calling to him as his own sword once had. He knew the spirit was alive, he saw him, Fi told him to find Ghirahim again, but it had been three months. There was no sign of the demon, no idea of where to even start, and Link was close to giving up.

As the shadow appeared in and out of his vision, Link continued down the path leading to Skyview Temple. Soon, he found himself at the front steps, staring up at the building before him.

He really should head back now, get backup or at least a better sword. He had actually turned to leave, but there it was again, the shadowy figure in the corner of his vision. At the entrance to the temple, it flickered, beckoning him inside.

Despite his better judgement, Link followed. There shouldn't have been any bokoblins to deal with, and though his sword was not the best, it would hold up against skulltullas well enough. The temple hadn't changed, and Link was lucky to find every door left unlocked from the last time he had been there.

At the end of the maze of passages, Link once again came to the broken bridge, the room taken over by vines and trees. Across the chasm, the shadow waited in front of the golden door, a dark contrast to the scattered glow of stray mushroom spores.

This was the first time he was able to look at it head on. The figure stood as tall as the keyhole, touching the floor but almost floating as it waited for him. It wasn't solid, a few glowing dots drifting through its body, and as each second passed Link could swear it was getting dimmer.

He couldn't say how much time was spent staring ahead. The figure blinked out of existence once more, and Link finally moved to follow it. The rope before him shook under his weight, and he nearly lost his balance a few times, but he had made it to the other side.

The large door was still unlocked, and open by just a sliver. Drawing his sword, Link pushed through.

Nothing had changed. The empty room stood before him, shattered pieces of pottery from the last fight that took place lining the edges. There was no figure, no demon nor sword waiting for him.

Link lowered his blade. He hadn't expected anything, really, but the confirmation of his fears stung. The sunlight had been very bright outside, the figure must have been a mirage his tired brain kept conjuring. Even so, he felt it would be a good idea to let the others know in case of some sinister new enemy. Placing his sword back in the scabbard, Link turned to leave.

"Did you really just sheathe your sword? Foolish boy."

At the voice, Link spun around with a racing heart. Across the room, where they had first met, Ghirahim was waiting for him.

"Hello, Link."

He looked the same as when Link last saw him. Taller than he was used to, eerily similar to Fi, glowing core exposed. He looked less worn down, but signs of battle were still etched onto his skin, cracks in the gem revealing the glow underneath. His hand held onto the sword, nearly as tall as Link, a reflection of the demon himself.

"It's been a while."

"It has." Link whispered in response, scared to walk closer and break the spell. "What took you so long?"

"Me?" Ghirahim scoffed. "I've been waiting here for you. I thought you'd come back eventually."

Link was confused. Looking back over his shoulder, he had the strange feeling of being watched. "So you weren't the shadow?"

"I don't know what you mean. Does it matter? You're here now."

Still wary, Link turned his attention back to Ghirahim. "I... yes. What... what happens now?"

Ghirahim twisted the sword in his hand. Picking it up, he walked towards Link, offering the blade to him. "That is up to you. I was under the impression you no longer have a sword, correct?"

Link absentmindedly brought his hand up to the training weapon. "Yeah."

"You are a swordsman in need of a blade. I am a blade in need of a master. Surely you see how we can solve these problems?"

Link stared at the black blade in front of him. He had imagined this day for months now, wanting nothing more, but he had never told anyone. Hesitation at taking the weapon clouded his mind. It would be difficult to explain.

"... what exactly does this mean?"

Growing frustrated, Ghirahim snapped, "You've had months to think about it. It's no different than your old spirit, and I promise, if you still worry that I may try to hurt you or your precious spirit maiden, this is the only way you could stop me."

At the mention of Zelda, Link stiffened. She wouldn't react well to this. Yet, Ghirahim had a point. Under his command, Ghirahim wouldn't hurt anyone. Fi had seemed okay with the idea, encouraged him to take it, even. He had been through so much... he deserved this one thing, at least.

"I'll take it."

"Good."

Reaching out for the blade, Link closed his eyes as he grasped the cold hilt. His fingers brushed against Ghirahim's for a moment, before the spirit was gone. Cracking an eye open, Link watched as the sword glowed, red flames lighting the room as it changed before his eyes. Just as when using the sacred flames on the Goddess Sword, the blade transformed under his grip, fitting to his palm and becoming much easier to handle.

The final form was smaller, the edges of the blade smoother. It looked similar to the Master Sword, yet rougher at the edges and still distinctly Ghirahim. Link lifted the newly transformed blade to the light, watching the last of the flames fall away.

Behind him, a hand rested on his waist. This time when Ghirahim leaned over his shoulder, tongue flicking out by his ear, Link did not flinch away. He was pulled against the other's body as that tongue traced his jaw, lips stopping to rest on his neck. Cold against his skin, he could feel them move as Ghirahim whispered,

"It will be a pleasure to serve you, Master."

#I want to delete this fic but the problem is it's the first in a series :/ and while the second one works on its own #I had one person say they'd be sad if I deleted the first so it's still up but it's hanging on by a thread #edited so its less cringey but also I can't read past cht 1 without feeling like crying #ghiralink #what's the point of writing niche fanfic you want if you can't even read it when it's done #this is why when I say I want this fic to exist I mean I want someone else to write it because I want to read it. not write it #I can't read it if I write it!!! it's no fun #skyward sword #link #ghirahim #cherryskywriting

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