#This is a personal attack against Kudos for making me have feels right as I woke up today with their prompt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yana125 · 1 year

Text

Okay, I didn’t have many MCoG thoughts recently and it’s not even midnight it’s midday (when I started writing this but then I got carried away and I wouldn’t be surprised if it would be midnight by the time I post this.....) (aaaaand it’s not midnight yet but it is dark outside X’D) so ideas like that shouldn’t come to me at daylight, but I was watching an amazing video about why Princess Momonoke is better than Avatar at teaching a lesson about nature vs technology and how this conflict should be solved, and there was the part starting at 30:18 that then made a connection to MCoG, making me think about the real historical conflict behind the fictional characters, and it then all reconnected to what those earlier 30 minutes were about in the video, and that in return made me realize what an absolutely wasted potential we are facing right here.

So the part starting at 30:18 talks about the European conquest of the Americas. But it doesn’t put the conquerors on the side of absolute evil and the Native Americans on the side of absolute good like Avatar does. Like in Princess Momonoke every side has good reasons and bad decisions. And everything started with an other conflict started by an other conflict started by an other conflict. The Europeans were pushed by the Ottoman Empire pushed by the Mongols. It’s a domino effect. A cycle of hate and violence. Everyone wants to get their hands on resources to fight against the invading forces to protect their home (good reason) and in the process do to others exactly what the invading forces did to them (bad decisions). (Also there’s this video about Attack on Titan and violence made by the same person also connecting to this.)

So in regards of MCoG, obviously there are the European conquerors in the Americas robbing and enslaving the natives. The resources they get from the Americas would then be shipped to Spain where they would use those resources to fight the Ottoman Empire. (Also this is the part where I’d like to make the sidenote that I won’t expand here that the video also mentions, that kudos to MCoG for not showing the natives as inherently good, because there ARE bad and good people among them too with good and bad decisions, like the Urubus who kidnap people from the tribe who live on the lake. [Who don’t fight back to defend themselves thus dooming themselves, because they can only survive if they defend themselves, but if they get overwhelmed by the hate and violence they feel against their invaders and attack them not out of defense but out of revenge than they would enter the cycle of violence and become just like the people that invaded them.])

But what I really REALLY want is for all of this to affect the relationship between the children. For them to have a REAL conflict of beliefs and opinions that would test their bond originated from this bigger conflict that surrounds them.

There ARE conflicts between the characters, like Esteban being an extrovert dreamer/idealist vs Tao being an introvert thinker (ExFx vs IxTx in Enneagram terms, if you prefer that) and Esteban pushing or pulling Tao into situations he’s at first very against and is very uncomfortable about. What comes close to what I’m thinking about is Esteban’s trust and Zia’s distrust in Mendoza. Zia’s always very vocal about not trusting Mendoza, and Esteban is always ensuring her that they can trust him. Both of them have their own reasons, neither of them are inherently right or wrong but this doesn’t generate any long-lasting and bond-breaking conflicts between them. So let’s start with this, I always like talking about the more complex and important things last.

The Zia – Esteban conflict

Zia is full of anger and hate. Period. Zia’s home was attacked by Spaniards. She was separated from her people and her family, her mother was most likely killed in the conflict, and she was taken to Spain against her will and was given to the royals as a gift from the New World like she wasn’t even a human being. Then she was kidnapped again and was put on a ship heading back to her home so her knowledge could be used against her own people. Returning back to her home continent all she sees is that the Spaniards are still killing her people, they capture her again with her friends, they threaten to kill her friends if she doesn’t help them, and so on. Zia has every right to be angry and hateful. She is basically treated by the Spaniards as a ragdoll, the same Spaniards who, as mentioned before, attacked her home and now kill her people all over the continent. Zia being only a child means that she couldn’t protect herself physically from all of this. She was most likely traumatized by all those events and probably how she was treated by the royals. That led to her overgeneralization of the Spanish. I only know the dub version since the Japanese episodes I have are not subbed ಥ_ಥ So, in the dub version of episode 2 she says:

“He’s like all the Spaniards. All Mendoza cares about is his gold.”

(In Japanese she says she would bite him next time X’D)

The only Spanish she knows are the conquistadors and the royals, of course she overgeneralizes the Spanish. She probably wasn’t let outside to see what kind of people live in Barcelona. And either she didn’t know anything about the Ottoman Empire or didn’t care about it. For her the Spanish are greedy conquerors who want to kill her people.

And I think this should’ve radicalized her a bit more. She should’ve been more hateful and angry and as she was getting older she should’ve been more aggressive to the point that if the series were continued right after the first season ended, she should’ve gotten her hands on a knife or a rifle by the time they find all the Cities and point it at a Spaniard. (And I’m pointing here - without a knife or a rifle - at Avatar The Last Airbender – that I haven’t watched yet – and the Southern Raiders episode and Katara. What I’m saying is that Zia could’ve very well been a mix of Katara and Azula. Just imagine.)

On the other side is Esteban who as Zia say as the continuation of the previous quote:

“I didn’t mean you when I said that. Anyway, you’re not really Spanish.”

Yeah, he’s not really Spanish. His mother was an Inca, his father had unknown origins, and he only lives in Spain because he was found by Spanish explorers on the Pacific.

But, if he doesn’t know anything about his origins, looks like an average white person and passes as European by looks, and lived all of his life among Spanish people, doesn’t nurture is a dominating factor here over nature thus making him also Spanish not by blood but by upbringing? The monks were Spanish, they weren’t conquistadors. We don’t know what business they had with the royal family but looking at Esteban and what a kind boy he is they had to be good people. Good Spanish people. So that makes Esteban a good Spanish person by upbringing.

In the Japanese version of episode 2 the following conversation happens between the two during the medallion scene (and I don’t know how many times I had to listen to this as I was writing it into google translate, but also thank you google translate):

Esteban: So you were brought here from the New World. That Pendant is from the New World? I have the same thing.

Zia: Eh?

Esteban: Look! Mine’s Sun part is kept/protected by Mendoza./Mendoza took the Sun part when he saved me. (? I couldn’t really understand what he was saying.)

Zia: It’s just as I thought. You’re not Spanish.

This is the first time Zia speaks, and it’s ‘oh, so you’re not one of them’. So when Zia learns that Esteban is not Spanish she immediately opens up to him and talks to him because she doesn’t considers him one because of his origins by blood. But Esteban doesn’t have any connections to his blood relatives apart from being born. In all of his known life he considered himself a Spanish orphan. One among the many Spanish orphans who were most likely orphaned because their parents either died in war or illness (and this would mean that Esteban also knows about the Ottoman Empire). And he only found out that he wasn’t Spanish when Father Rodriguez told him on his death bed. But does it make him not-Spanish when he was socialized among Spanish monks and sailors all his life? His first hand experience about the Spanish is that they’re kind (the monks) and merry (sailors). And sometimes they lift him high in the air to chase away the clouds.

So Esteban didn’t go through the same as Zia. He knows all kinds of Spanish people, good and bad, and doesn’t generalize them. He judges them by their actions and not where they come from. He’s also naïve and let’s Mendoza manipulate him for a bit at the beginning, but he’s also a good judge of character. (AGH Season 2!!!! (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻)

AND! He’s able to forgive. Esteban is someone who doesn’t hold grudges for long. And he’s able to help others in need even if they did something wrong previously. He’s careful with them, but he’s also a good kid, because Father Rodriguez and the monks taught him to help others.

So this conflict between Zia and Esteban could’ve naturally escalated to something bigger. Zia’s hate, profound distrust and overgeneralization of every nation ever that conquered an other nation (mainly natives) vs Esteban who judges individuals by their actions. In their journeys they could’ve come across more Spanish people who’d never done anything wrong in their lives (maybe they are slaves of the Ottoman and the children meet them when they somehow get to that area), but because they are Spanish Zia could’ve treated them like they were also responsible for what happened to her people. And Esteban could’ve stood up against her in this matter because he knows there are good Spanish people. But Zia is still full of anger and hate and does Esteban really side with the Spanish? After everything? And then there could be a moment where Zia realizes that Esteban is Spanish. No matter where he originally came from and where he was born and who his parents were, he thinks and acts like a Spaniard and what if he deceived her all this time, what if he wanted to use her like all the conquistadors, how can she trust him after all of this! (Ohmygod, the potential of this! ⚆_⚆)

Also how cool it could’ve been if Esteban was the one who stopped Zia with his reasoning if Zia had gotten her hands on a knife or a rifle around the end of the series. Saying that by doing this she would be the same like those people who attacked her home and he knows she’s a better person than that.

But the main conflict! Between the characters who never really had a conflict!

The Zia – Tao conflict

So why this would be the more complex and important conflict? Well, the Zia-Esteban conflict is personal but this would be more… global.

You see, Zia as an Inka has a closer connection to nature. She has a pet condor, she talks to animals, she respects traditions, and so on. For her technology is for destruction. The Spaniards used rifles to kill her people. Technology must be bad then.

Tao is the last descendant of Hiva/Mu. It was an advanced nation with incredible technology and they were so advanced and they used solar power for ships and flying machines. Technology is so good!

But that very technology destroyed Hiva/Mu and Atlantis during their conflict. And the natives of the 16th century had their own technologies too. And the Inkas were most likely the descendants of the Empire of Hiva/Mu. So what now?

For me Tao is someone who because he wasn’t influenced by outside conflicts on his island can look at everything from an outsider’s perspective without swaying to either sides. He lived alone on his island close to nature but also he was surrounded by the technological inheritance from Hiva/Mu. So in a way there is perfect harmony between nature and technology where he lives.

When we look at all of this from Zia’s perspective, since Hiva/Mu is connected to the Inka’s since she as an Incan girl has the medallion made by the King of Hiva/Mu, it has to be good technology then. She would most likely consider the people of Hiva/Mu natives like her who are in no way similar to the Spaniards, no way.

Then we get to the Olmecs who in the Japanese version were always from Atlantis, and I have no idea if the children knew about that or not, but if they did then Zia could easily connect them to the Spaniards. Because how I think Zia with all of the anger and hate is that she doesn’t see grey. Everything is either black or white, good or bad, and the good doesn’t have any bad in it, and the bad doesn’t have any good in it. Hiva/Mu and Atlantis was a war of good and evil, and since Hiva/Mu is connected to her people and they are on a quest finding the Cities made by Hiva/Mu they had to be the good ones.

This is where Tao’s outside perspective could come in. I have this scene in draft form right after Season One. They stop for the night, they look at a map they got from Mendoza, agree that they should be careful around here because there could be Spanish patrols since there’s a port north to them:

Esteban: After what we’ve been through with the Olmecs, some Spaniards are nothing.

Zia: You shouldn’t be so unwary, Esteban. In many ways the Spaniards are as cruel and unmerciful as the Olmecs.

Esteban: You’re right, I just…

Tao: They were fighting for their survival.

Esteban & Zia: ?!

Esteban: What do you mean?

Tao: Exactly what I mean. Everything the Olmecs did, they did it so their people would survive.

Esteban: They tried to freeze us.

Zia: They killed my father.

Tao: I know. And that’s exactly why I’m not siding with them. What they did was wrong, but for them it was the only way to save themselves from extinction.

Esteban: I wouldn’t hurt others so I could stay alive.

Tao: You’re saying that now, but you won’t necessarily do the same when you get there. People start acting differently when it’s about their survival.

Zia: …

Esteban: Survival…

And this could build up over time. Like they go to North America where they would’ve met the proto-Ambrosius an English scholar or something who the natives were about to burn, and later the children would talk to the chief who mentions that these people (Europeans) lost their touch to nature. And Tao would call bullshit because he knows this is the natural progression of a society, that people would come up with new technologies to make their lives better, and then he would point at the fire and the weapons and everything around them and says that all of this is technology.

And then they would travel the world and find new Cities and they would learn more and more about Hiva/Mu (I almost wrote Ancient Kingdom, but that’s One Piece X’D) and see the good and the bad side of its technology and the conflict between Tao and Zia could gradually escalate, because wherever they go Tao would engage in science talk with everyone no matter where they come from and it would bother Zia because conquering nations are all the same.

Then in the end comes the truth. That Hiva/Mu and Atlantis were also conquering nations. They enslaved tribal people (maybe to mine resources or something related to resources), like the Spaniards did to the Native Americans, like the Ottoman Empire did to the Spanish, like the Mongols did to the Ottoman, and so on. And then after the fall of these nations the tribes created their own nations who then enslaved other tribes, who then enslaved other tribes, who then enslaved other tribes…

I can hear Zia’s world view shattering to pieces. Because her people were descendants of the Hiva/Mu Empire. How could they do something the Spaniards did? (Or what if the ancestors of the Inka were slaves who fled from the conflict to South America?)

The video about Princess Momonoke and Avatar says that humans are part of nature, because nature and civilization are part of the same cycle, and the world is cruel because it needs the death of something to keep something else alive, and technology can improve lives. The Attack on Titan video says that the cycle of violence will continue until people from different backgrounds decide to come together and learn to forgive.

So the lesson in The Mysterious Cities of Gold could’ve been that there will be always conflict when it’s about resources until there is a technology that can provide unlimited resources, like the power of the sun. But that technology has to be used wisely and shouldn’t be turned against others. And the people of the 16th century are not mature enough to use this. Maybe Hiva/Mu and Atlantis evolved too fast technologically and the collective maturity of their societies weren’t able to keep up the pace with it. Maybe their conflict started with something stupid and it escalated too fast and got out of hand so much that these two destroyed not only each other but themselves too. And the King of Hiva/Mu maybe saw where this would all lead to. Maybe he repurposed the Cities of Gold because the Cities originally were something else, like palaces of different noble families or the capitals of the seven main tribes of Hiva/Mu or something, and since these were the safest places of the world he hid the greatest scientific achievements and technologies and other things that should be preserved there (like the Svalbard Global Seed Vault) because all of these are for the good of all. And it’s the children’s responsibility to decide what would happen to the Cities. Should they be hidden forever and either never be revealed to the world or potentially be taken over by someone with ill intents, or should it be destroyed and future societies have to come up with a solution themselves if they want to survive.

Wasted potential! щ(゜ロ゜щ)

#mcog #les mystérieuses cités d'or #mysterious cities of gold

12 notes · View notes

evanbi-ckley · 1 year

Text

Fanfic Origin Story

I was tagged by @spotsandsocks 💙 thank you, this is so fun!

What was your first fandom (reading/writing)?

Destiel lol. I had no idea about anything having to do with fandom until after the series finale, so I was late to the game. But I jumped right into reading fix-its and AUs and case fics and everything in between. I didn't start writing until a year later, though.

What was the first story you ever wrote?

For the Destiel fandom: I Could Not Ask For More

For the Buddie fandom: 3AM? Just Go Home

What's a piece of advice you would give your younger fic-writing self?

Write for you. Write what you want to read. Tell the stories that live in your head, and as long as you're happy with the results, kudos, bookmarks, and comments won't matter as much.

What's an early fandom interaction that stuck with you (be it a nice comment, a friend you made, a fic that got a lot of feedback)?

I joined the Buddie fandom right before 5b started airing, and one of the first accounts I followed was @loveyourownsmiilee (for many obvious reasons). And when I started writing fic for Buddie, Juju was one of my biggest supporters - leaving the nicest comments and sharing the links to my stories. Just an incredible, genuine person, and I'm so thankful to have her in my corner 💖

Post a sentence or two from one of your older fics and a sentence or two from a newer one (if you want).

This is an excerpt from Come On Baby, And I'll Make You A Home

...now here he is, plastered against the man he loves. He had hoped that the first time they were this close to each other would’ve been a little more romantic and less life-threatening, but beggars and choosers and all that.

And Buck is looking at Eddie. He’s so beautiful. He’s covered in soot and sweat and there’s a cut on his cheek from falling debris. And he’s the most beautiful person Buck has ever seen.

He’s so in love with him.

And this is a bit from the Blizzard Fic:

The silence from the passenger seat is deafening. The fear he felt earlier when he woke up in the bunkroom comes flooding back in a rush. He feels flushed and wonders if he might get sick in front of Buck right after confessing that he's attracted to men. He thinks about what might be the safest way to crash the truck, but he doesn't want to risk Buck's safety. He's barely breathing, and he knows he's on the brink of a panic attack when he hears the click of Buck swallowing.

“Oh,” Buck breathes out shakily.

I think most of the people I would normally tag have already done this, but if you haven't, please tag me! I'd love to read your origin story <3

#fanfic origin story #fanfic writing #jules writes

8 notes · View notes

ffxiv-angora · 3 years

Text

Day 30: Abstracted

The final prompt ;__; It's a long boi too

Small TW: This takes place during the battle at Carteneau so there's violence, death, etc etc.

Tagging @caspianking since I stole Eli for this one lol

The sky was on fire. It was like nothing she’d ever seen before. Nothing she’d even imagined to be possible. Dalamud was falling. The very ground shook underfoot with every explosion and as soldiers charged forward into the chaos. It was loud. Too loud. The mix of cannon fire, magic, and screams was overwhelming. Angora could do nothing but stand with her feet firmly planted to the ground with her ears pinned flat against her head and her tail wrapped around one leg.

Someone gives her hand a squeeze, causing her to finally pull her eyes from the carnage happening in front of her. She blinks, looking up to the viera next to her. Eli. Her first and only friend. He gave her one of those goofy, crooked smiles of his just like always. But even that smile couldn’t hide the fear that was clear in his eyes that mirrored her own.

“Don’t worry, Kitty cat!” he shouted, lifting his gunblade to rest it on his shoulder. “Just remember the plan! We’ll be okay!”

That gods forsaken nickname earns him a sour look, but Angora nods and gives his hand a squeeze in return. That’s right. They’d made a plan between themselves and a few other trusted squadmates. Moons worth of secrets and hiding evidence. A plan to finally escape the clutches of the Garlean army to freedom. That freedom happened to be Eorzea seeing as the battle happened to take place in Carteneau, but anywhere not under Garlean rule would have been sufficient. All they had to do was stick together and move towards the edge of the battlefield. Then just...run like their lives depended on it when there was an opening. Because it did. If they were caught, they’d likely be executed immediately.

Angora’s grip on her bow tightened when she looked back to the battle. Their group wasn’t even fully aware of what the reason for this war was. It’s not like they were in any position to question it. All they knew was they were told that the Eorzeans, like themselves, were savages who needed to be crushed and held under Garlean rule. Something about primals and the Twelve? Was the falling moon their fault or the Empire’s? The only difference between the Eorzean “savages” and the squadron was the fact that they’d already been crushed. Captured and trapped. Forced to obey in hopes of living to see the next day. In Angora’s case, it’s simply all she’d known.

“Move it! Stop your stalling and get in there!”

Angora’s grip on Eli’s hand slips when she gets a firm boot the center of her back from the Legionarius who’d come up behind them. She stumbles forward, using her bow to catch herself before she could end up face first in the dirt. It took all she had not to shoot a glare over her shoulder. Thankfully, she’d had a lifetime worth of practice. Eli was quick to move to her side and address their superior for her.

“Of course, sir! We were just going.”

“You better be. Do not let me catch you hesitating again. For the Empire!”

Angora and Eli both gave him a “For the Empire!” full of forced enthusiasm that seemed to be convincing enough seeing as the Legionarius moved on. It’s only once he’s out of sight that Eli gives Angora a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and angles his head towards the battlefield. Angora nods, pulling an arrow from her quiver as they move forward.

Things become a blur and muted. Eli charges ahead to clear a path through the opposing side while Angora watches his back and picks off stragglers from a distance. He keeps the front safe while she keeps an eye on the rear. The rest of their squadron stayed in the middle. It wasn’t their first battle together but it was certainly the largest. Their moves are robotic and merciless. No care for the lives they were taking. If they didn’t strike first, it would be their bodies in the mud instead of the Eorzeans. They were doing fairly well...until they weren’t.

Their plan was still on track. They’d all managed to work their way towards the edge of the battle without rising too much suspicion. But the longer they fought, the harder it got to stay together. They were tiring as well. More attacks were getting past Eli as the Eorzeans pushed forward. An arrow here, a slash there. Had they been paying attention, maybe they would have noticed the group coming from the side. Maybe the plan would have worked.

Out of seemingly nowhere, a band of Eorzeans pushed in from both sides of the group. Angora was the first to spot it, but she was too late. Too far away for even Eli’s ears to hear her. There were too many explosions. Too much cannonfire and screaming. Angora’s scream was one of them. All she could do was watch in horror as their squadron was picked down and torn apart. Eli and Angora were split off in separate directions and Angora scrambled back just in time to get out of range of a flare that goes off in the center, knocking her to the ground.

“Eli!!” Angora screams, squinting to try and see through the flames as the spell fades. He had to be okay. He had to be. She narrowly dodges a swipe from a sword and wastes no time in shoving an arrow into the attacker’s throat. He looked as scared as she was. His face is forgotten the moment she shoves his body away. Angora fumbles to get to her feet, desperately scooping up her bow and whatever arrows she could find at her feet. It’s then when she sees that not only is the sky still on fire, now that very same fire was raining down onto the battlefield.

Meteors.

Why was this happening?! Wait- did the moon have cracks in it? For just a moment...the fighting stops.

It’s then that what looks to be a giant glowing pillar of some kind falls from Dalamud and collides into the Star, sending shockwaves of rock and dirt across a majority of Carteneau. Bodies and machines alike are also sent flying. Yet again it becomes so loud. It’s too much. It’s too overwhelming. One sound still manages to cut through, though. Angora’s ears turn toward the sound of a gunblade firing before she sees it. What she sees is a battered Eli way too far from her frantically fighting his way through a crowd of Eorzeans.

“Nonono...E-Eli! Don’t worry!” Angora shouts, climbing her way over destroyed magitek. “I’m on my wa-” She freezes. Eli had spotted her and their eyes met. The look he gave her made Angora’s heart sink into the pit of her stomach. Time slows. It was the same smile he always had...but full of so much sadness. He shoved a soldier to the ground before pointing to the mountain range behind her. He was...saying something. His mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear him over the roar of the battle happening around them.

“W-What?? I can’t-”

“Go! Get out of here! This is your chance!”

Angora’s breath catches in her throat. Eli’s voice just barely made it to her. Surely he hadn’t just suggested that she leave him behind. She couldn’t. Not him. Were those tears running down her face?

Angora hardly gets a chance to process it before a poorly aimed fire spell causes a blast nearby that sends her flying from off the magitek and back to the ground. Her ears are ringing and she can hardly see past the spots in her vision. Her first and only friend’s voice echoes in her mind.

“Go!”

She...she had to. There was no choice. He was right. This was the first and only chance at freedom that she would get. Twenty cycles of torment could finally be over.

“Damn it! Damn it all!”

Angora rolls onto her side, digging her fingers into the mud while forcing herself to stand. She does not look back. If she did, she wouldn’t leave. Her bow is quickly pulled over her shoulder before she takes off as fast as her legs could carry her. Eorzeans and Garleans alike are ignored as she bobs and weaves her way through the chaos. A blade catches her across the back, but she doesn’t stop. She only stumbles a few steps before blindly pushing forward.

I’m sorry, Eli. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me.

“Angora?”

Run. Run. Run. She was so close to the mountains. Beyond there was a forest where she could hide. She’d be safe. She had to be. If not for her own sake, then for the sake of Eli’s sacrifice.

“Hey, Angora~?”

Her lungs burn but she refuses to stop. Not until she is able to desperately dig her fingers into the stone and clamber her way over some of the large boulders at the base of the mountain. She spins around just in time to see one of those awful meteors coming right for her. The air becomes impossibly hot. It’s too late. It’s coming. It hurts-

“Angora!”

Angora startles, blinking a few times before looking up from her desk to squint at Eli. He was alive. It was by some miracle that they both were.

“Hellooo? Anyone home?” The viera leans forward to lightly knock on the top of Angora’s head right between the ears. Angora just tsks and swats his hand away.

“Oh hush, Rabbit.”

“Come onnnn! I’m hungry and you’ve been working all day! Let's go!” He about gets a book thrown at that smug face of his when he starts to shake her desk.

“Fine, fine. But you are paying this time.”

#ffxiv #ffxiv rp #ffxivwrite2021 #ic things #Angora #And with that FFXIVWrite is over RIP #This is a personal attack against Kudos for making me have feels right as I woke up today with their prompt

10 notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

( chapter 6′s gif by @buckysbarnes from this lovely set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 6/?

summary: gunshot wounds, panic attacks, and evil next door neighbors.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 5.3k, a filler before the real sexual tension.

a/n: be warned, this chapter has a diy medical procedure where bucky removes the slug from rabbit’s shoulder. it’s nothing too graphic, but keep that in mind! also, i wanted to say thank you to everyone who has rec’d, reblogged, commented, kudos, liked, looked at this fic. the response to every chapter has been so overwhelmingly kind and i’m so thankful that i have the oppurtunity to share this fic with you all. that being said, i broke this chapter up. next week has some spice. ;-)

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

Bucky wakes up with a headache that feels like someone’s tapped an icepick between his eyes. A fire-bright burn radiates under his ribs.

It’s a slow creep back to reality — he just lays there and stares at the peeling wallpaper that meets the corner of the ceiling for a while, knowing deep in the back of his muddled, confused thoughts that he most likely has a nasty concussion, maybe a few broken ribs.

How? Hm. Fighting. Music? The club.

Rabbit.

He sits up fast and Bucky’s blue eyes struggle to adjust in the low-light of the scarcely furnished apartment. The searing pang of his headache is enough to make his stomach churn, but he’s had worse. So much worse. This is manageable. So, he swallows down the nausea and looks around the room like a wounded animal — and almost immediately, relief greets him at the sight of you in the armchair across from the couch.

Your hair is a mess, falling from it’s previous style that you’d proudly worn to The Glass Cannon. Your lipstick is smeared, there’s glitter on your cheeks, and your make-up has transitioned from starlet beauty to broken-hearted bombshell. Bucky notices, with a bit of dismay, that you’re even missing an earring. There’s a nasty bruise forming along the peak of your cheekbone and a gash there from when Alexei had cracked you across the face with the pistol — and even despite all this, Bucky can feel his heart clench at the sight of you. A good clench. The sort that makes his heart kick into a stutter step.

You look… well, you look like someone who’d had the shit choked out of them and then was shot.

Shot.

Your jacket, punched clean through with the single bullet hole, is hanging over the back of the chair and there’s gauze taped to your shoulder. You’re leaning your good cheek in your hand, attention turned totally to Bucky, where you’ve fallen asleep. From here, you’re a picture of exhaustion.

Anxiety flashes in his heart and he swings his legs over the edge of the couch.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on his shoulder.

“Take it easy.”

It’s the woman from before, Kiwi, and she’s got an ice pack in her hands. It’s wrapped in a ratty, green dish towel, and she hands it off to Bucky with a pitiful little look. Rounding the couch, Bucky finally gets a better look at her.

She’s older than you, maybe by a handful of years, but sharp and beautiful nonetheless. Her hair is dark as night and the tips are drenched in a lime colored dye. Her eyes are dark, too, ringed by kohl and glitter, and Bucky wonders if he’s ever seen her before.

“You heal quick,” she says quietly as she plops down into the chair across the room. On a makeshift desk, there’s a laptop, “Care to explain how you know our dear friend Rabbit here?”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. Again, his eyes fall on your sleeping form.

He maneuvers the ice pack in his hands, then gently presses it to his ribs. He melts a bit, ignoring the evident tears in the silk shirt. He feels bad — he’d busted some of the seams in the midst of the brutal scuffle and it seems like this artifact of Jaimie’s was most likely beyond salvation.

His dog tags jingle against his chest.

“Therapy,” Bucky croaks, “We, uh, we met in therapy.”

A new voice comes into the picture now, one that’s muffled by a mouthful of food.

“That’s cute.”

It’s the other one, Climber. He’s traded in his all-black, all-polyurethane outfit for an expensive looking t-shirt. Without the strobes, without the tunnel vision, Bucky can now see the intricate buzz cut that sits beneath the mountain of blue curls on his head. There are patterns buzzed into his tight-shave. He’s got a smile, too, the glimmers a little too artificially. Bucky spies crystals inset on his incisors between bites of what looks like a bowl of cereal with no milk. Spoon and all.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met,” Climber says as he plops down next to Bucky on the couch, “What’d you say your name was?”

A hand is jutted his way. Bucky blinks. He shakes it with his vibranium hand.

“I’m Bucky.”

“Well, I’m gay and you’re gorgeous,” he says candidly, giving it a good shake, “So, if that’s of any interest—”

“Can you please shut up, Climber?” comes an irritated rasp from you in your armchair. Bucky turns to watch as you raise your head and rub your eyes, “Christ, I just fell asleep.”

“And your little supersoldier just woke up,” Kiwi chirps from her preoccupation with the laptop and contents on it, “So why don’t you stop being a little baby and let him look at that gunshot wound.”

Bucky’s face falls flat. He drops the ice pack to the coffee table with a thwunk.

You sit up, gingerly trying to maneuver yourself so as to not bother both your ribs and your shoulder. It takes a moment, but finally you’re sitting up with only a dull ache of pain throbbing beneath your skin. Now, the real sting comes from the bitter look Bucky has pinned you with.

“You haven’t cleaned it yet?”

“The shits in the kitchen,” Kiwi waves at Bucky, as if to say told you so, “She fuckin’ refused to let me take care of it.”

“You’re going to get an infection if it stays in you any longer,” he snaps, standing to his feet, “Get up.”

“Kiwi isn’t exactly the most gentle person I know,” you manage to supply as an excuse as you move through the room, “And I know that thing isn’t coming out without a fight.”

He can feel the grey hairs coming in already.

You stand slowly, and Bucky looms behind you as you weave into the small apartment’s kitchen.

It’s barely lived in, but a few years ago it most definitely had life. Now, it’s mostly abandoned save for a few necessities. Kiwi had told you, a long time ago, about this spot — it was her parent’s place before the Snap. After the Blip, they ended up moving back to Massachusetts. Now abandoned by anyone seeking to really live in the one bedroom, it sits collecting dust until Kiwi inevitably needs it.

Like now.

“Up on the counter.”

You wince at his tone, but still thankful to be away from Kiwi and Climber’s prying eyes.

For the entire time Bucky had been out, you’d been subjected to a myriad of questions — all were fair, really, since Bucky did just bust out the Avenger-level super-moves on some Russian mafiosos for your sake, vibranium arm and all. The arm was really the biggest stuck point in the conversation as you tried your best to explain the nature of your relationship with the unconscious supersoldier on the couch. It was met with plenty of looks, both curious and skeptical.

You’re slow to hop up on the dusty marble countertop. From there, you watch Bucky poke through the kit that Kiwi had pulled from under the sink.

Then, with the calculated process of a man who has pulled one too many bullets from himself, Bucky slams the kit shut and wanders into the bathroom.

He returns with a pair of large tweezers. He’s silent as the dead as he rummages for a pan, fills it with water, and sets the gas burner on. He stares, watching the pot boil, as his foot taps against the floor.

You swallow down any comments.

There’s a clean towel beside you, and Bucky casually reached into the boiling water with his vibranium hand to retrieve the tweezers — whether or not he purposely ignored the pain is lost on you. You’re too busy anxiously spiraling into silence.

(He’s trying to ground himself, to feel something other than panic. It’s a mild spike, but it’s still panic. Because you’re hurt. Because you still have a fucking casing lodged in your shoulder and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you. Ever. Because he saw it happen and then it was black, and now that anxiousness is creeping in.)

Rubbing alcohol, tweezers, gauze, tape, and… Jack Daniel’s.

It’s from the top of the fridge. It’s got a layer of dust on it — and it’s unopened.

Bucky unceremoniously pops the cap and hands the open bottle to you.

You take it and pause.

Bucky’s gaze is cold.

“You’re gonna want to take a few swigs, Doll.”

You almost snarl. You take a long drink then, ignoring the burn of the whiskey down your throat. It’s only when you’ve had enough to nearly gag that you hand the bottle back and then hiss:

“Don’t call me Doll.”

He takes the bottle and unceremoniously slams it down on the counter.

His movements are rough as he washes his hands — and if Bucky was a better person, maybe he’d take a second and parse through why he was feeling so damn irritable. But, no, no, he could figure out that he was angry at himself and you and Alexei Gardzov and Innessa Sidrova and fucking… everyone because he can’t have any normal relationships in his life without there being bloodshed or pain or suffering. That was enough, and he didn’t want to dig deeper into the nipping fear of losing you, not now, not when he had a job to do—

You suck in a sharp breath when his fingers brush your collarbone. He gently moves the delicate strap of your bodysuit, ignoring the soft skin beneath, and pulls the gauze away from your shoulder.

Your jacket had taken most of the impact it seems. Bucky frowns deeply at the pink fibers clinging to the entry wound. It’s a nasty puckered bit of flesh, smeared with blood, right in the soft muscle of your left shoulder. The hole is a little smaller than a quarter — Bucky recognizes it as shot from a 9mm almost immediately. He’s taken a few of these in his days. He’s glad it wasn’t close range. The burns from the muzzle flash make for nasty scars. He’d know. He has one on his back, right above his hip.

Bucky’s jaw is tight. He’s gritting his back teeth. His headache throbs angrily behind his eyes.

Bucky leans, eyeing the wound carefully. His limited reaction is enough to spark a little light of bravery in your gut, and you move to look at the hole — only to find a vibranium hand rooting your jaw in place. It’s gentle enough as it recorrects the line of your gaze straight ahead. His thumb rests on the curve of your chin as his index climbs your jaw, and the vibranium is warm and cold all at once. It’s an odd sensation. Not bad, but not flesh.

You like it.

(You find your mind quickly flashing with the thought of what that hand would feel like in other places. You ignore it.)

Your eyes are stuck on Bucky.

He’s clearly upset — the pinch between his brows and the evident scowl on his lips is enough of an indication. The bridge of his nose is busted and there’s a bruise crawling under his left eye. The shirt you’d given him is a wreck, and as he bends to snatch up a rubbing alcohol soaked pad, the feeling of shame creeps up on you. The anxiousness that’s settled in the pit of your stomach doesn’t help.

Arguably, it exacerbates the symptom.

The whiskey is slow to make an impact.

But, when Bucky finally swipes the gauze across the wound, your ankles have begun to tingle and it isn’t blinding white pain you feel — not yet. It’s sharp and it feels like he’s touching your shoulder blade when he presses his fingers into the holes to clean the immediate area. That has you grimacing tightly.

His obsidian-hued hand holds your face still through it.

So, you opt to stare.

His arm reminds you of some pottery you’d seen back at the Museum of Modern Art once, on a school trip. In a dimly lit room, spotlights lit up a row of vases that had been gilded back together with gold-dusted sap. You’d sat there for nearly an hour, staring at those things. You can’t remember the name now, not while Bucky does one more pass across the wound. It started with a ‘k’. It was beautiful. You loved that exhibit. Why can’t you — fuck — remember the name? Kinsi… kinsigumi? Gumi. Kintsi —

You grit your teeth and grip the counter tightly. He pauses. You exhale.

You inhale.

Kintsugi.

The seams of his arm remind you of Kintsugi.

It’s beautiful.

Bucky’s eyes flit to yours. He sees your stare.

Maybe it’s the pain, or the half-cocked daze, but the look in your eyes is enough to spur an immediate reaction. Bucky scowls. He yanks his hand back, retreating to the supplies on the counter. He’s pulled, hard and fast, and now he seems miles away.

Quietly, and with a bit more chill than he intended, he speaks. “If it was making you nervous, you should have said something.”

It.

Your head snaps to him.

“What?” you ask, nearly incredulously.

He’s silent. He has the tweezers in his hand now.

Your eyes narrow critically — and instead of shame and anxiety, it’s hurt that flies off your tongue. It’s drenched in enough pain that Bucky hears it in the waver of your voice.

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

It’s nearly a whisper.

He swallows.

He ignores it. He has to. He doesn’t want to know the answer. Either way that conversation goes is enough to drag him into territory he can’t handle right now. Not when he needs to do this without his hands shaking.

“This is going to hurt.”

Your mouth is open — be it shock or anger, he’s not sure. Bucky, however, makes a point of ignoring your expression and your reaction by handing over the whiskey once more. You snatch it from his hands quickly. There’s a look on your face that makes his chest ache. With one last pass over him with your eyes, you take a long swig.

You feel like crying.

You won’t, though. Not now. Not while he does this.

You deserve this.

And holy fucking hell does it hurt. It’s like someone’s taken a hot poker and punctured your skin, then rotated it around and around and around. You can feel every time the tweezers touch the bullet because the metallic little click echoes in your chest. It’s enough to make your head spin, and you grit your teeth and close your eyes and try to breathe — but even after a handful of minutes, when Bucky finally retrieves the slug, there’s no relief. Just a desperate throb.

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the whiskey once more.

You do cry, finally, when Bucky packs the hole.

He rolls the gauze up tightly into a cylinder and, as gently as he can, pushes it in.

It’s a horrible choke of pain that you smother into your palm and pant through. It reminds you to breathe, and while you stare up at the water damage on the kitchen ceiling, Bucky tapes a square piece of gauze over the bruised wound and wraps your shoulder tightly. He takes his time, but there’s a curtness to his actions.

Finally, when he begins to clean up the mess of bloodied gauze, you speak.

“If you’re mad at me, then just say it.”

He snaps almost immediately, like a kicked dog. “And say what, Rabbit? That I almost lost you?”

Your mouth slips shut.

Bucky pauses what he’s doing. He drops the gauze onto the towel and he bares both hands against the counter top. He leans and exhales and drops his own head back — then, you can see his own waves of anxiety knocking him against the shore of composure. His eyes move back and forth, he inhales, and then after a long while he speaks.

It’s calmer. Not so horribly mean.

“You should have told me about Alexei.”

You go to speak — but he stops you.

“I mean really, really told me,” he explains, “Had I known he wanted your fucking head mounted on a spike, I would have kept you far away from that place.”

“We had to—”

“No,” he says sternly, standing up full height, “No, we didn’t. We never have to do anything that’s going to put you in danger. Never. I won’t do it again. You should have fuckin’ told me.”

You’re quiet.

“A few more inches to the right,” he says, gesturing to your throat with his finger. His eyes are expressive and he’s speaking like he’s lived this experience, “You’d be dead. Cold and dead and I’d be here, carrying the fucking guilt around with me because I wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”

His voice splinters at the end — but he’s moved to throw away the gauze and dump the tweezers in the sink. He can’t look at you as he says it, and you know that. Because, just like before, people like you and him have a hard time looking the truth in the eyes.

You slide off the counter.

Your heart is sad. It’s heavy and mournful and weighed down with guilt.

“Bucky.”

It’s soft. He’s scrubbing your blood from his hands.

He doesn’t turn around. He can’t. He can feel the prick of an anxious breakdown beginning to climb into his eyes. Instead, he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs and your blood is stuck in the plating of his hand and it’s not going to come out—

Think of what could have happened if it had been a few inches to the right. The arched spray. Blood everywhere. She can’t speak through the gargle, she’s going cold, she’s gone. And, like always, you’re alone again, Bucky.

Then, your hands are on his.

The touch is enough to stop him. It’s enough for him to move aside at the large, inset kitchen sink. You exhale slowly as you run the water a little warmer and gingerly run his hands under the tap. Your hands are smaller than his, a bit more delicate, and he’s stunned into a sharp silence at the feeling of your fingertips gently washing away the crimson blood.

You grab another dish towel from a drawer beside the stove.

Then, in the dim light of the kitchen, you take both his hands and dry them.

It’s the vibranium hand that you pay special attention to, though. And Bucky feels like a fucking idiot — just standing there, just watching as you run the rag between the gilded plating and use gentle pressure to get into the harder to reach spots. You turn it over, and you dry his knuckles.

You take your time.

You don’t look up when you speak. You’re focused. Almost reverent.

He doesn’t deserve this.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you say sternly.

His mouth is dry. “Rabbit…”

Bucky shifts on his feet and takes a deep inhale. He feels lightheaded.

The whiskey, and the closeness of the two of you, makes your skin warm. His whole nervous system feels like it’s on fire.

“I didn’t mean to stare, I don’t ever mean to,” you apologize as your hands still over his arm. He watches your irises trace the plating above his wrist. The rag is forgotten, its purpose null. Your words are heavy, and Bucky can hear a little shake in them as you swallow, “I just… think it’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

Even now, blood-soaked and sweat-stained. With makeup running down your cheeks and your composure in shambles. Even now, on the run and apparently wanted, you’re incredibly beautiful. Bucky hates how easy it is to admit and how hard it is to keep off his tongue. It nearly gets the better of him. He watches your eyelashes flutter. When you look up at him, the world is suddenly drowned in honey.

“I’m sorry.”

You mean it.

Your bottom lip wobbles.

Bucky, immediately, regrets being so goddamn cold.

You were just trying to help — you were just trying to do the right thing.

“Stop it. Come here.”

The hug is the first time you can remember touching him like this. You think you’ll always remember it, too. It’s sturdy and warm and gentle and honest and you bury your face into the shoulder as his arms come up around your neck. He’s careful of your own injured shoulder, and his fingers find the base of your neck. Around his waist, your fingers dig into the back of his shirt. Both of you ground yourselves in the other’s arms, and for the first time in a handful of hours, you both find peace.

Quiet, sturdy, lovely peace.

And the two of you stay like that for a while in the quiet little kitchen.

It’s not until Climber’s voice rises from the living room that you’re pulled away from Bucky — and even then, your face linger inches from one another for a moment too long. Neither of you say a word, only swallow down confessions that could have been, and move on.

“Oh, girlie, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Bucky frowns. With your brows knotted tightly together, you weave through the kitchen and back into the living room.

Kiwi has sat up and both her and Climber have their eyes on the bulky flat screen on the dust-covered entertainment center. It’s cable news, and as Climber leans to turn the television up, a picture of you flashes across the screen.

It’s a photo from your arrest six months ago.

“Local authorities are asking that anyone with information on the whereabouts of this young woman call the FBI’s anonymous tip line—”

“Is there a reward?” Climber whispers almost excitedly, eyes on the screen.

“—Authorities are offering $100,000 dollars to the person who provides enough information to lead up to this dangerous fugitive’s capture.”

“Dangerous fugitive?” hisses Bucky.

“A hundred thousand dollars?” cries Kiwi, “Who the fuck did you piss off?”

You inhale deeply as you wave your hands. “The bigger question is who the fuck knew I was going to The Glass Cannon last night. Because they’re looking for me — not you.”

You point at Bucky and the gears are turning in your head.

The pacing is almost immediate, and Bucky crosses his arms tightly as you begin to walk back and forth behind the full length couch that Climber is currently spread out on.

It’s cut short, though, by Kiwi’s laptop chiming successfully.

“Well,” she stands quickly, “I have a feeling that someone knows you’re onto them. And the facial recognition software just got a match. A three point one, too.”

Your eyes brighten.

You’d given Kiwi the photo of the young Innessa, with all her decorated furs and blonde curls. She’s laughing and she’s young and she’s in love and it’s hard for you to imagine a woman like her to be dangerous. While you’d made sure Bucky was propped up comfortably on the couch and then finally calmed down from the adrenaline high enough to get comfortable yourself, Kiwi had dug out the hard-drive she kept on her at all times and began pulling data from the Alexandria Library files.

It had been a handful of hours, so it was clear that Innessa had hid herself well in the vast, expansive database SHIELD kept for all those years while it was in operation.

Bucky is quick to gather behind Kiwi, eyes scanning the screen.

Sure enough, when you come to look at the photos pulled up on Kiwi’s screen, there’s a hit. There’s an identification card photo of an older woman, maybe in her forties, pulled up alongside the photo Bucky had given you. Her hair is no longer blonde, but deep auburn color. She’s marked as having worked with Rumlow — a supervisor of some sort. Makes sense. You didn’t need to see a picture of Crossbones to remember Brock. Even when you’d interned, he’d been infamous.

And that was when he was one of the good guys.

There’s a handful of other photos of her — candids, professional photos, and even one where she is shaking Tony Stark’s hand.

And in all of them, you see your next door neighbor Bonnie McLayne.

“Fuck.”

Bucky blinks. Kiwi turns to look at you over her shoulder.

Again, you speak. Your eyes are wide. You can’t look away from the screen.

“Fuck, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Rabbit…?”

“Fuck.”

Bucky’s face narrows considerably, confusion melting to make room for realization.

His voice is quiet.

“Do you know her?”

“Oh my god,” you say loudly, shaking your head and blinking, “Oh my fucking god, that’s my neighbor.”

Bucky can feel his whole face go clammy.

“The neighbor who—”

“—Who I showed your fucking picture to,” you nearly shriek, “Like it was some cute little matchmaking game!”

Immediately both hands are over your face as you throw your head back. Now, the pacing has begun, and like you’re being carried on autopilot, you begin to move back and forth and back and forth and—

“You don’t think she’d hurt Poke, do you?”

“Rabbit.”

“Oh god, oh god—”

Oh.

Oh, you’re having a panic attack.

Oh, that was quick. Brutally fast. Nearly immediate.

After all, she knows where your family lives. She gets Holiday cards from mom to give to you. She’s been your closest friend for nearly six years. But she’s not Bonnie, she’s Innessa fucking Sidrova. She’s seen you with Bucky. She knows — she knows a lot and you don’t know anything and you’re miles from home, from Poke, from Mom, from Ana… Oh, god, the baby. The baby.

“The baby.”

Bucky’s voice is level. “Rabbit, you gotta calm down.”

“I have to call my mom.”

“No,” Kiwi snaps immediately, “They’re going to be watching for your cell phone pings. No calls, no texting, none of it. And god forbid this woman is one step ahead of the FBI—”

“Oh, god.”

You gasp like a fish out of water, paralyzing fear sending you to lean against the back of the couch.

You claw at your chest and try to remember what Dr. Hart said about these sorts of moments. Square breathing. In and hold and out and hold. Again and again.

“Sit down,” Bucky says as he returns to your side, nearly sweeping you up long enough to plop you down into the armchair from before, “And do me a favor and breathe.”

The whiskey isn’t helping right now.

“I’m trying.”

Another gasped breath.

Climber and Kiwi watch.

Bucky shakes his head sternly, kneeling on one knee and snagging your hands. “Don’t try. Just do it. You can do it. Just follow my lead — you’re the sidekick, after all. Remember? C’mon. There’s the smile. Breathe.”

So you do.

In, hold. Out, hold. You draw a square with one hand on your jeans and hold onto Bucky’s with the other.

Again, in and hold. Out and hold.

And again.

And then, you just listen to Bucky’s breathing.

You’re not sure how long it takes — half an hour, ten minutes, who knows — but finally you’re able to calm the spiraling thoughts in your head. Finally, the loudness quiets down, you catch your breath, and the world isn’t falling apart. The bite of anxiety still remains in the hollow of your chest and Bucky can see that when you finally open your eyes and squeeze his hand.

There’s that look again between the two of you. The one from before, in the kitchen.

“Good?” he asks quietly, blue eyes swimming with some sort of emotion you can’t really pin down. Not now. Maybe, if you’d been a bit more collected, you would have seen it as infatuation. But, no. It’s just… nice.

You swallow and nod.

“Damn, girl,” says Climber from his spot on the couch, “Now I’m starting to get the whole therapy thing.”

“Thanks, dickhead.”

“That’s recent, isn’t it?” he asks, genuine worry crossing his face as he stands to gently pass a hand over your back, “I don’t remember it ever being this bad.”

Your face is sad. “I was just partying through it back then. Distraction was always the best method and then… When I had no more distractions and it was just me? Alone? And, psh, the accident with Jaimie? It got worse. So much worse.”

Climber’s eyes soften. “I’m sorry, bunny.”

You try to put on a brave face.

Bucky stands from in front of you and begins his own pacing. This one isn’t so much born out of anxious nature — but more of a tactical logic born out of keeping you safe.

This wasn’t exactly the turn he was expecting.

“You didn’t recognize her?” he asks after a moment, voice high and tight.

“I’m sorry,” you wave a hand, exasperated, “She doesn’t exactly look the same as she did in the 70s.”

Kiwi frowns at the screen. “Definitely botox.”

Bucky squints. He looks to you for an explanation.

You vaguely gesture to your face.

His brow lifts, he closes his eyes, and he sighs.

Kiwi is next to pipe up. “It explains why the feds are looking for you, especially if she saw you with the one man she knows is looking to hunt her down — so, I think it’s best the both of you lay low for a couple of days.”

“Not to mention,” Climber wags a finger, “Bucky the Babe over here did just piss off one the smaller Russian crime families in New York. So, there’s always that ontop of the evil Nazi-HYDRA-woman-next-door.”

You groan.

“Poke has enough food for a week,” Bucky says nearly reading your mind, “He’ll be fine.”

“So, what? We just wait here? Until something happens?”

“Sidrova is going to try and bait us out,” Bucky mutters, “She knows she can’t just disappear. She’s been settled for too long and we know too much. Engaging us in an altercation is how she’ll do it. Plus, I have a feeling she wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot me in the knees after a few decades. So, we wait.”

“Few decades?” Kiwi whispers.

“How old are you?” Climber asks.

“Hundred and six.”

Both of them just blink at an unphased Bucky.

You sigh, finally standing on wobbly legs. “This feels like a bad idea. I’m just stating that for the record.”

“Better than her hunting the both of you down,” Kiwi supplies, “You can stay here. There’s cable, there’s booze, and there’s plenty of instant ramen to last you until winter.”

“Stale cereal, too.”

“Wait— where are you two going?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, “You’re leaving?”

“Keeping our hands clean,” Kiwi says, closing her laptop, “And letting you be the sidekick, bunny.”

The sadness in your heart grows a little heavier at those words, but there’s a little bit of pride in Kiwi’s tone. As she stands, she moves to wrap her arms around you in a gentle hug. Quietly, she murmurs into your hair.

“Your dad would be proud of you, y’know.”

Bucky watches.

Climber is next, and that hug is bigger, more brotherly, more like sunshine and less like autumn.

“Don’t be a stranger, Rabbit.”

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out as the two of them gather their belongings, “For dragging you both into this. But, thank you. You didn’t have to help me—”

“Yeah, we did,” Kiwi chirps as she knocks Bucky on the arm three times, “Keep her safe, aakarshak purush.”

The Hindi rolls off her tongue with ease.

Bucky laughs. “Bahut lamba.”

Kiwi pauses mid-step. She narrows her eyes. There’s a smile on her lips. “Your pronunciation isn’t bad.”

He shrugs plainly. “I get lunch almost everyday at the Indian place below my apartment, so. The owner has been teaching me some stuff on the side.”

An approving nod.

Kiwi hucks you the keys across the room.

She points at Bucky.

“I like him. Try not to fuck that up, eh?”

And then, the two of them are gone.

And it’s just you and Bucky in the empty apartment.

#vacant mirrors #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barns x you #bucky/reader #winter soldier x reader #mcu imagine #tfatws imagine #A LITTLE LATER THAN PROMISED BUT SHE IS HERE

1K notes · View notes

helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

New Enemies, New Alliances (Sweet Betrayal Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: Swearing, graphic description of injuries/death, violence, grief, blood, manipulation

Word count: 3,661

(A/N): Things are starting to get spicy, folks!

“Nice job today, I think you’d actually put up a fight in battle now,” Dream grabbed your hand and helped you up. You basked in the compliment, they were few and far between. Now, if you didn’t pass one of the Badlanders by accident, Dream and Lucius were the only ones to recognize your work.

You brushed off your training clothes and smiled to yourself when you saw Lucius move to pat you on the back before stopping himself. He’s been around for a month now and he still isn’t used to not being able to touch anyone. You remembered that when he was alive, physical touch was his love language. It must be killing him to not touch anybody.

“Yeah! I’d hate to be on the other side of your sword, homie!” You have no clue why he started to call you ‘homie’, he hated that word when he was alive. Faintly, you supposed that he must’ve learned it sometime between after he died and when he was looking for you as a ghost.

“Thanks, guys,” you fiddled with the handle of your sword before swinging it over to rest on your shoulder. The walk home was filled with Lucius and Dream exchanging terrible puns, much to your exasperation. Out of all the things he could’ve kept in his personality after he died, it just had to be his love for puns.

As the days passed and the war’s climax drew closer and closer, stress was increasing in the White House. Schlatt had become far more paranoid of traitors in the midst of the remaining cabinet, and truth be told you were also growing more paranoid. It was like you and Schlatt were the only ones completely loyal to Manberg anymore.

Lucius had increasingly grown worried for your well being, always trying to push you to go to bed early and urging you to distance yourself from Schlatt. In your opinion Lucius was insane for even suggesting the latter, Schlatt was everything to you. Without him, you’d be nothing.

“I really don’t-”

“Lucius, drop it,” you hissed out, rubbing your forehead and returning to your work. You needed to get this paperwork done as soon as you could, otherwise Schlatt would have your ass.

“I’m not going to ‘drop it’, (y/n). You need a break! All of this,” he swung his arms around to gesture at your office, “isn’t you.”

“You don’t understand, Lucius,” you bitterly chuckled and threw your quill down onto your desk. The ink that was on the tip splattered over the desk, staining the birch wood black. “This,” you gestured towards the office and walked over to the window. Lucius followed you and looked out at the city. You clasped your hands behind your back and smiled fondly at the sight of the endless buildings. “This is me.”

“I know you, you aren’t this- this brutal or bloody insane!” Lucius tried to put his hands on your shoulders but stopped himself, settling for crossing them across his chest. “You’re caring, funny, ambitious, and most importantly agreeable! Now, if someone even slightly crosses you, your first thought is revenge.”

“That person was a coward through and through. Aren’t you happy that I’m finally standing up for myself?”

“Standing up for yourself? Standing up for yourself? You get stepped on constantly by that ram asshole that you call a father, you call that standing up for yourself?”

You spun around to face him, looking down at his face with a harsh glare, “you have no right to bring Schlatt up, he’s done everything for me while you were just galavanting around the SMP doing Ender knows what! He’s the one that took me in. He’s the one that cared for me. He’s the one who made me who I am today. He’s the one that made me less of a coward.”

“Are you serious? He’s the one that completely fucked up your life! When was the last time he’s said anything that bordered on nice to you? When was the last time he said he loves you? I just want the best for you, (y/n),” he ran a hand through his hair and looked up at you in desperation and frustration. “You wouldn’t be this mentally unstable or this disfigured if you would’ve just stayed away from him like I told you to do when I was alive.”

“You clearly don’t know what’s best for me if you’re too blind to know that Schlatt changed me for the better,” you scoffed to yourself. “That person left the second I killed you.”

You watched as his already pale skin blanched impossibly and his eyes widened in horror. “You- you what?”

So he doesn’t remember his own death? How interesting.

“You don’t remember? You were my first kill, I can still remember the crunching sound your skull made and how warm the blood that splattered on my face was when I drove that pickaxe through your forehead. The power I felt after I came to terms with the fact that I just took someone’s life? Exhilarating.”

You smirked down at his terrified face, taking great pleasure in the fear he felt. He took several steps back from you, almost tripping when his heel caught the edge of the carpet. Grinning, you followed him until he was pressing himself up against the wall. You leaned down close to his ear and whispered, “I’ve never felt anything like it before. You were my first friend and my first kill, kudos to you.”

He ducked out of your presence with haste and distanced himself from you, his chest heaving with panicked breaths. He stuttered out a response, “do you even regret it?”

Regret was something you always pushed deep into your subconscious, “regret is for losers, winners own up to everything they do,” Schlatt’s voice echoed in your mind. You didn’t like thinking about your regrets, however the delicious fearful tone that shook Lucius’ voice was too alluring to ignore. He deserved every single ounce of the fear that racked his body, the argument that had raged on previously still filling you with anger. You’d humor him for now.

You certainly regretted it when you first killed him prior to losing your first life, if losing your first life is anything to go by. You hadn’t even done it on purpose; it was simply a freak accident in an abandoned mineshaft. You didn’t know that when you and Lucius discovered it that you’d leave without him. You could remember exactly what happened that day.

“Luci, wait up!” You pushed yourself to run faster into the cave, chasing the short teenager. He threw his head back and laughed, “catch me if you can!”

You grinned happily to yourself, “I’ll catch you faster than you can say a damn pun!”

You followed him deeper and deeper into the cave, passing different assortments of ores and jumping over crevices along the way. The carefree laughter that bounced off from the stone walls mingling with the slapping of both of your leather boots against the floor.

Despite the sharp twists and turns, you managed to stay hot on his trail. Eventually, he led you deep into a mineshaft. That was where you couldn’t keep up with him anymore. By the time you followed him around a corner, he was nowhere to be seen. You slowly came to a stop and looked around at the dark hallways. This had to be the largest mineshaft you’d ever seen, it was seemingly endless with a labyrinth of twisting halls. You looked behind you only to be met with even more dark halls. You couldn’t even remember where you came from, everything in here looked the same.

In the distance, you heard the hissing of cave spiders and the pitter pattering of their multitude of feet on stone. You swallowed nervously and took out your pickaxe, mentally scolding yourself for not thinking to bring your sword. Every single sound made you jump out of your skin and press yourself up against the wall, preparing yourself to swing at any movement.

Eventually, you gathered the courage to start to wander the maze of hallways. You gripped the handle of your iron pickaxe in a vice grip, ready to kill any mob that would potentially sneak up on you.

“Luci, please come out. I’m starting to get scared.”

You paused to strain your ears for any potential reply, only to sigh to yourself when you heard nothing but cave spider sounds and the faroff dripping of water. With a steadying breath, you ventured further into the mineshaft.

As you passed a hallway, you saw sudden movement from the corner of your eye. Squeezing your eyes shut with a small yelp, you spun around, raised your pickaxe, and swung it down with all your might.

In an instant, you heard a sharp gasp. When you felt your pickaxe make contact with something, a sickening combination of a crunching and squelching noise accompanied the feeling of something warm splatter across your face. You peeked your eyes open to see what mob had attacked you.

Instead of a zombie or… or whatever your mind was expecting to see, Lucius stood there looking at you with his eyes bulging and his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Your hands left the pickaxe and flew up to your mouth as you stepped back in horror at what you’ve done. As soon as you dropped the pickaxe, Lucius’s body dropped with it. He fell to the stone ground limply with a thud, landing on his side with his arms and legs awkwardly sprawled out.

You stood frozen as you watched his body start to convulse before falling still completely after what seemed like hours. Nothing but the roaring of blood in your ears and the obnoxiously loud thumping of your heart in your throat was heard. You finally snapped out of your trance when you saw his body still and started to dissolve in glowing golden dust.

“No, nonononono what the fuck did I just do?!” You dropped to your knees next to his body, feeling icy dread as you saw the telltale sign of death floating from his body. Gritting your teeth, you pressed your hands over his limp arm where the majority of the dust was coming from in a desperate attempt to potentially save him. He was already losing his warmth, you could feel him rapidly cooling under your hands. To your terror, the dust merely slipped through the cracks of your fingers.

Strangled sobs left your mouth as you removed your hands and dragged his upper body onto your lap. You lifted him up and hugged him as tight as you could, once again pressing your hands over the glowing gold, trying and failing to keep his body in one piece. You hated how he was slowly lightning as his body was dissolving.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated to him like a mantra. “I’m so fucking sorry Luci, come back.”

Just before he fully left you, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, praying to whatever gods were above that he’d just wake up and laugh loudly.

“You should’ve seen your face,” he’d tease you, “I really got you good this time, didn’t I?”

He’d then realize just how terrified you were, and he’d then hold you close to him while humming your song over and over. He’d tell you, “turn that frown upside down! You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” He’d put his pointer fingers on the corners of your lips and lift it into a smile, telling you to “fake it til you make it” and that “your smile is your best asset to use against someone.”

You’d ask him in a bout of confusion, “but then you’d be vulnerable! Isn’t it better to just… hide it all?”

He’d give you that dazzling smile of his and gently tap your nose with a finger, “hiding everything behind a smile is better than being a husk of a person. I know there’s a constant happiness deep down in you, I’ve seen it and it’s absolutely beautiful. C’mon,” he’d start to jab your sides lightly, “give me a smile!”

You’d shove his hands away from you with a small, genuine smile. He’d then haul you up to your feet and lead you out of the mines, pulling you behind him as he ranted constantly about what he had planned for you both for the day with his signature blinding smile.

But that didn’t happen.

Soon enough, you were holding nothing in your tight grasp and your face was hovering midair with something coming to rest in your lap. As you pried your eyes open and saw the bloodied pickaxe that laid in your lap and the blood that covered your clothes and slicked your hands, a guttural scream ripped itself from your throat. You’ve never screamed so loudly or so intensely; you were unsure if the copper you tasted in the back of your throat was from your fried vocal cords or from Lucius.

You stayed in that spot crying until you couldn’t anymore. The full reality of the situation hit you as you finally found your way out of the cave after days of wandering. Not knowing where else you could go, you stumbled to Schlatt and Quackity’s house.

The second Quackity opened the door and saw you sobbing and splattered with blood looking like you haven’t eaten or drank anything in days, he immediately took you into their household and sat you on the edge of the bathtub. He was the one that cleaned the blood off from your face with a warm washcloth and held you to his chest after you cried out when the feeling of the warm water was too similar to the blood that had splattered your face days before.

Schlatt had been the one to coax you to eat something after you had passed out in Quackity’s arms, whether due to lack of sleep or nourishment, you didn’t know. Alongside that, he was the first one you talked to about a couple of days into your stay with them.

Though you never told them what happened to your late best friend and what you did to him, they fully supported you and slowly nursed you back to the point where you could keep yourself alive without their constant aid. Whenever you’d have nightmares of the incident, Schlatt would be quick to make you realize that you were in their guest bedroom and not deep inside of a mineshaft while Quackity would stay by your side throughout the night softly humming small tunes.

Though everything came crashing down when Philza showed up at their door one day and drugged you home, your time with them solidified your suspicions that you could be loved.

You blunk, the scene of the blood spattered stone being replaced with your office and the very boy you accidentally killed cowering in the far corner of your room. He was staring at you like you were a starving lion and he was a cornered gazelle, watching your every move vigilantly. You couldn’t blame him, he was in the same room with his murderer after all.

“...I didn’t mean to kill you; I was terrified at the time, I couldn’t believe that I killed my best friend. Hell, I even killed myself because of the guilt.”

Though a brief flash of sadness reflected across his face, he hadn’t budged from his place with his eyes still trained on you, “t-the past doesn’t matter. Do you regret it now?”

You once again paused, the question of ‘do you regret it’ circulating your mind once more. If Lucius hadn’t died that day, you wouldn’t be the person you were today; you’d still be getting stepped on by everyone. You’d still be a coward, a spineless nobody. You wouldn’t be happy.

Though you hated yourself for even thinking about this, you questioned if you were truly happy here. You had everything you’ve ever wanted here: the power that you craved, a surefire means of getting your revenge, and living with the person that had constantly supported you. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt like something was missing. Yes, you’ve felt like that your entire life, but lately it felt like a massive, evergrowing void from deep within your core was swallowing everything within you. Maybe Lucius was right. Maybe-

“Why are you hesitating?!” Your eyes snapped to Lucius, surprised at his outburst. Now instead of the petrified look on his face just moments before, a spiteful one replaced it. “Why the fuck are you hesitating?”

“Lucius-”

A bitter chuckle interrupted you, “the fact that you’re hesitating tells me everything I need to know. I really thought the real you was somewhere deep within you, but you were right! This is the real you... You really are the monster everyone says you are.”

Before you could say anything, he fazed through the door leaving you standing in the middle of your desolate office. It felt like a spike was driven through your heart, you never would’ve expected Lucius to say anything like that. Not Lucius, never Lucius.

The pleasure that coursed through your veins previously during the argument had long since fleeted and been replaced with something you vowed to never feel again: regret. Disgust hit you full force as you remembered the delight and satisfaction that filled you at the sight of his fear. Your first and closest friend that stuck with you through thick and thin, his utter fear gave you pleasure. You really were a monster, weren’t you?

A knock sounded at your door, making you jump out of your skin.

“(Y/n), it’s time for our session.” Dream’s voice sounded through the thick doors. You sighed and looked at your suit, you weren’t even dressed properly.

“I’m not ready yet, I will be in about five minutes.” Your tone wavered slightly, making you hope that Dream wouldn’t comment on it.

“Is everything alright? I’m coming in.”

The door opened to reveal Dream wearing his usual lime green hoodie and his signature smiling mask. His curls bounced as he made his way over to you and examined your face.

“You look like shit,” he mused, “you know, you don’t need that ghost. He’s just been holding you back this entire time.”

“Well,” you crossed your arms and looked off to the side, “he isn’t in the picture anymore.”

He was silent for a moment before he walked over to your couch and sat down haphazardly, gesturing for you to do the same. When you did, he hummed, “you know, Lucius isn’t the only one holding you back from your full potential.”

“Who is then?”

“Schlatt.”

Schlatt’s name sent ice through your veins, your fingers growing numb and your throat drying up.

Just as you opened your mouth to object, Dream raised a finger to silence you. “He can’t even run his own country that he claims to be so proud of. In fact, he’s making you do all his dirty work while he gets drunk off his ass, not even recognizing you for your work. Everything you’ll ever do, even if you half ass it, is always going to surpass him at his best... He’s going to fire you soon, you know.”

You felt truly helpless in that moment, “what? He needs me, he-”

“As soon as the war ends, he’s just going to toss you aside just like everyone else in your life has. Just like Philza has, and now just like Quackity, the Badlanders, and Lucius has. But…”

He turned his head towards you and tilted it slightly. You hesitated before clearing your throat, “but what?”

“I can help you. I won’t throw you out like you’re a piece of garbage; I’m not a brain dead idiot like they are. I see your potential, and you’re going to absolutely thrive if you accept my help.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “...what’s the catch?”

“Ever the vigilant one; so wary of the world at such a young age, so smart,” he chuckled to himself. “What you have to do is simple, not even a moron like Schlatt could fuck it up. I’ll do all the work here, all you have to do is pledge your undying loyalty to me. Of course, you could stay here,” he released a long sigh, “and waste your potential while simultaneously inevitably getting abandoned, or you could break the cycle by working with me and reaching your full potential; I’ll never abandon you like they all did. Are you in?”

He stuck his hand out towards you and held it in the air, waiting for you to seal the deal. You stared at it as you contemplated his offer.

Though the thought of Schlatt throwing you out crushed your heart, you wouldn’t be lying if you said you expected him to do so sooner or later. With his ever growing dependence on alcohol, his judgement has grown increasingly more clouded. The furthest corner of your mind acknowledged that he was going to abandon you sooner or later as the abuse got worse, but your conscious mind refused to even think about him not being in your life.

Maybe it was time to turn a new leaf, Dream had said that you hadn’t reached your full potential yet and everything here was holding you back. You trusted him, he had proved to be a good mentor and a good person during your training sessions. He proved to genuinely care about you.

“Well, are you in or not? I’d hate to see such potential get wasted because someone is stuck in the past.”

You slapped your hand into his and shook it firmly, “I’m in.”

His mask lifted up slightly as he smiled underneath it. He shook your hand and matched your firmness, “excellent.”

General taglist (comment if you want to be added):

@crybabyjabby @izzybobizzy13 @goldenstarofthunderclan @bunnyz-pxstel @averytiredfanfictionwriter @dcml04 @sparkling-gayyyy @bbigbbrainn @thaticecreambish @kiinokochii @satansphatass @bxkubitch @bxmentchildxx @roxy3457 @montygator17 @feverish-dove @the-fictionwriters-hairdo @jichuuchaeng @404rynnotfound @luluwinchester @laura--444 @the-cult-classic-bitch @youngstarfishdinosaur @nottheotheruser @ohworm-writes @localwolfanon @realitycanbeajerk @v10dw4lk3r @esylwen @seraphsema @boiled-onionrings @smolgreenybeany @louistommosnesquickmilk @galaxios @ryxjxnnx @autumnpleaves @ravennightingaleandavatempus @0ton1n @self-righteous-dumbass @a-simp-for-block-people @fortunatelylazystranger @m1lkmandan @mirios-sunflower @ahmya-4 @shinipii @noyasblush @auroraskyfall @cryptocry @hee-hee-haw @blackstar-gazer

Gender neutral reader:

@totem-awooga @parkeepingparker @whatislifebutlemons

Sweet Betrayal:

@zefrenchturtle @smolgreenybeany @wouldyoulikesomepollen @savleftus @bonkaloid @prickypearpropaganda @marceline1212 @simp-of-newyork @wasteofspacze @mossanon @hee-hee-haw @keiarma @expir3d-m1lk @seraphsema @aiyncel @louistommosnesquickmilk @xx-smiley-xx @maelstromania @miloisagoodboy @boiciph3r @izuruamme @sticksdoesart

#jschlatt x reader #quackity x reader #dream x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt x reader #tw: swearing #tw: blood #tw: manipulation #tw: grief #tw: death #tw: injury #tw: violence #sweet betrayal

379 notes · View notes

waitimcomingtoo · 3 years

Text

In Case You Don’t Live Forever

~chapter three rewritten~

Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader

Synopsis: you are Peter’s greatest love and Spiderman’s greatest enemy

Series Masterlist

Peter arrived at the Avengers tower with a little pep in his step. His new neighbor was on his mind and he couldn’t get her off. He knew it was a long shot, after all you’d only had one conversation, but he felt like there was a connection between you. You were awkward, he was awkward. What more does a relationship need?

Tony was quick to notice the change in Peters mood. A dreamy smile crept across his face every now and then while Tony was trying to explain something about his nanotechnology.

“Alright Underoos, whats on your mind? A girl? Boy? That gorgeous Aunt of yours? Oh wait no, that’s what’s on my mind.” Tony smirked, making a blush paint Peters cheeks.

“Nothing sir. Sorry, I’ll pay attention.” Peter answered quickly. Tony scanned Peter up and down skeptically.

“So its a girl. Alright. Who is she?” Tony asked, motioning for Peter to sit down with him.

“This girl moved in across the hall from me about a week ago. I’d see her on the stairs sometimes, or in the lobby. She’s beautiful, Mr. Stark. I mean, really beautiful. And I know girls are a lot more than their appearance, trust me, but I can never look away. It’s like God made a perfect batch of cookie dough, and then made a perfect cookie cutter, and then hand made her just for me. There’s just, there’s something about her. I feel like I’ve always known her, and I don’t even know her yet. She knocked on my door this morning and I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her through the peephole. I played dumb and acted like I didn’t know she lived across the hall.” Peter started to explain. A twinge of embarrassment struck him at the memory of what he said to you.

“Oh God. You said something stupid, didn’t you?” Tony inquired, noticing the look of embarrassment on Peters face as he recalled their conversation. Tony leaned on his hands like a child, this stuff exciting him more than anything.

“I insulted her dead father and called him smelly.” Peter admitted, and Tony laughed.

“But she found it funny and agreed with me.” Peter quickly followed up.

“Wow. Normally I’d say there’s no coming back from that, but she seems like a keeper. So, are you gonna throw on your Spidey suit and take her for a ride around the city? Works with all the ladies.” Tony wiggled eyebrows, but Peter shook his head.

“No. Spider-Man isn’t a party trick or some tactic to pick up girls. Plus, I want her to like me for me. That’s why I invited her over for dinner tonight.” Peter answered. Tony looked down at his hands, not wanting Peter to see how proud he was. He couldn’t let Peter get too cocky.

“That was a test and you passed.” To y quipped. “Alright, spider child, you have my blessing. But no funny business tonight. If I find out I’m gonna have to design nanotech baby clothes, I’m gonna be pissed.”

Peter blushed at the mere thought of what Tony was implying and spent the rest of his time at the tower going over missions to get you off his mind.

You arrived at Peters at 6:07. You were done getting ready at 5:45, and sat in the living room on your phone until you were slightly late. You didn’t want to be early, like some loser. Or even worse, on time. You had to be fashionably, but not rudely, late.

You knocked on Peters door at 6:07 and waited. The door swung open instantly, as if he’d be waiting right behind.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He stated. “I’ll let you decide if I was waiting at the door for you or if I’m just really fast. “

He had successfully broken the ice, and you gave kudos to him for trying.

You, on the other hand, were drawing a blank. You had no idea what to say and you were a reporter for crying out loud. You didn’t get tripped up on my words, but something about Peter Parker and that damn collared shirt rendered you unable to formulate a thought. All you could do was stand there and smile at him. You felt like you were standing weirdly and all the sudden had no idea where to put your hands. Do you leave them at your sides? That felt too stiff and soldier-like. But where else would they go? You were pretty sure every brain cell had left your body at that point, leaving you defenseless.

“You look nice.” Peter blurted, interrupting the awkward silence that had settled between you. Even he seemed surprised by his statement. You looked down and shrugged. You looked as nice as a lazy person who didn’t fully unpack their clothes could look. You had on a casual grey dress that was made of some sort of t-shirt material, and your hair was in a loose bun with a few curls framing your face. Peter took in your appearance with what looked like approval. Then you noticed Peters gaze falling to your feet.

“Converse with a dress.” He noted. “Bold move.”

You felt your personality re-enter your body, finally, and nodded.

“Oh yeah. You know me. Quirky and cool and not like other girls.” You joked as you clicked your heels together. “You look nice too. Very…Freddie Benson.”

Freddie Benson? Who the hell makes an ICarly reference to compliment someone? This night was going downhill fast and you regretted ever knocking on his door.

“Dude. You’re tanking.” Venom said in your ear, you had to agree. This couldn’t be going worse.

But lo and behold, Peters beautiful laugh filled your ears once again.

“That’s what I was going for!” He cheered. “My friend Ned always teases me for wearing sweaters and button downs but he just doesn’t have the vision.”

“Come in.” He suddenly stepped aside and gestured inward. “Dinners almost ready.”

Peters apartment looked just like yours, but much more homey. You saw his baby pictures on the wall, coupled with pictures of him and his parents through the years. You noticed a framed picture of a different couple on the coffee table. They resembled Peter but you didn’t see them in any photos with him past the age of around 7. There was a candle next to the frame, as well as a ceramic cross. You quickly looked away, not wanting to overstep.

“You must be Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.” You heard a woman’s voice from behind you. You turned around and saw a woman in high pants and a yellow tank top, recognized her from the pictures with Peter.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you too, Mrs. Parker.” You said politely and shook her hand.

“Please.” She shook your hand. “Call me May.”

“May.” You repeated with a smile.

You turned around and saw Peter pulling out a chair for you, so you sat down while May finished preparing dinner. You offered to help, being the polite ass bitch that you were, but May insisted that you were the guest. A plate of “meatloaf” was soon placed in front of you and Peter. The term “meatloaf” is used very loosely. It looked more like an old shriveled brain. Peter made eye contact with you and winked.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.” He whispered. He glanced at May, who was busy pouring the drinks, before leaning in closer and whispering, “it’s way worse.”

You playfully kicked Peter under the table and he giggled, quickly masking the sound with a drink of water.

“So, Y/N, where do you go to school?” May started the conversation. You took a bite of meatloaf, nearly died, and swallowed before answering.

“I’m actually taking a gap year before I start my junior year at Berkeley.” You told her. “And I work part time as a reporter.”

“That’s a very good school.” She complimented. “And I thought you looked familiar. I’ve seen your show on YouTube.”

“I haven’t.” Peter realized. “What’s it called?”

“The L/n Report.” You answered. “I started it my freshman year and it just kinda took off.”

“Oh. I’ve read some of yoru articles, but I haven’t seen the show.” Peter realized. “I can’t believe you do that. That’s really cool. You’re really cool.”

“Thank you.” You winked at him, not used to being praised for your work.

“Peter told me about your father.” May changed the subject. “I’m so sorry to hear that he passed. He left the apartment to you?”

“He did.” You nodded. “And it’s all right. We were estranged anyway.”

“It must be so different living alone in a city.” May sighed. “Did you dorm while at Berkeley?”

“No, I lived with my boyfriend.” You shook your head. Peter began choking on his water at the mention of a boyfriend and May shot him a look.

“Peter. Manners.” She said sternly.

“Boyfriend?” Was all he managed to say between coughs and sputters.

Oh great. Time for this conversation.

“Ex-boyfriend.” You corrected. “I got him demoted to traffic duty for two weeks and he wasn’t too happy about it.”

“He broke up with you over that?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “That’s gotta be the dumbest reason for a breakup I’ve ever heard.”

“May I ask how you got him demoted?” May wondered.

“Well, I’m an investigative reporter, and my ex, Andy, is a cop.” You began. “I looked at some classified files on his computer and used them against someone.”

“Carlton Drake, right?” She realized the story sounded familiar. “I read about that. Your exposé about him was everywhere.”

“Didn’t he die in his own rocket?” Peter asked you, fully invested in the story.

“Yea. I was there. Me and…my friend.” You caught yourself before almost mentioning Venom.

“Gosh I read that story forever ago.” May recalled. “It was all over the news here. I remember Peter ranting to me that this girl was straight out of high school and already taking down shady guys in San Francisco. You were obsessed with the article, remember Peter? I’m pretty sure you hung it up.”

Peter, you guessed it, turned bright red.

“I just thought you were cool. You know, taking down bad guys and all at such a young age. It really inspired me.” Peter explained. He suddenly looked panicked, like he said too much, and you wondered what it inspired him to do.

“Thank you Peter.” You smiled fondly. “How old are you anyway?”

“19. I’ll be 20 on August 10th.” He said proudly. “What about you?”

“He’s legal.” Venom whispered in your ear. You couldn’t even be mad at her, you were thinking the same thing.

“I’m 20.” You told him, and smile crept across his face.

“And this boyfriend, where is he now?” May asked. May wasn’t blind to what was happening between her nephew and this new neighbor and knew that’s what Peter was dying to ask.

“I would very much also like to know that.” Peter said, almost robotically. He leaned in closer and stared at you while he awaited the answer.

“He’s engaged, actually.” You said between sips of water, making Peter sigh in relief. “To a friend of mine. They’re getting married this summer.”

It was the first time you said those words out loud. You didn’t feel sad, like you thought you would. You didn’t really know how you felt. The smile that broke out on Peters face gave a clear indication on how he felt, though.

“That’s great. I mean, not great great. Great for him, I mean. It’s always good to move on. Wether it be with an old friend or a brand new one. Maybe it’s with someone you just met. You never know. Things just happen between the most random of people. Could be a stranger. Or, or, hear me out, it could be less of a stranger. Like a barista, or a mailman or a…a neighbor.” Peter stumbled over his words, the last part coming out very quietly. “I’m sorry that things didn’t work out though. Between you and him, I mean. ”

“Thanks.” You shrugged. “It was tough at first but, I’m okay now. He wasn’t the one.”

“When you do find the one, you’ll know. I knew almost immediately that Ben was the one. I saw him and my heart said “that’s the one you’ve been looking for” and I believed it.” May sighed wistfully. You could see her eyes glistening behind her glasses and did something rather bold. You put your hand on top of hers and squeezed. She gave off this loving motherly vibe that you had only seen in movies but never felt for yourself. May gave you the warmest smile and squeezed your hand back.

“That’s lovely May. Although, I always thought when you met the one, your heart wouldn’t say that it’s been looking for that person. I always thought it would say ‘welcome home’, or something like that. You know? Like, you’ve always known them. I don’t know though. Maybe I’ve just seen The Princess Bride one too many times.” You shrugged.

“Ah. That’s a classic in this household.” May recalled. “Peter would refuse to go to bed without watching it.”

“Because it’s a cinematic masterpiece.” Peter sassed. “You’re trying to embarrass me by pointing out that even as a child I had impeccable taste? Oh please.”

You laughed at his remark, making May noticed the smile that broke out on Peters face when he succeeded in making their new neighbor laugh.

May looked at you for a while with a content smile on her face before saying, “Yeah. I suppose you do have good taste.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #peter parker imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker x venom!reader #venom!reader

643 notes · View notes

copias-thrall · 3 years

Note

How would Mary goore react to hurting someone he genuinely cares about? I absolutely Love your writing!💕

Hello, nonny! Thank you, I love this ask!

This was going to be alist, but it got away from me! 😅

Enjoy 😘

It wasn’t anything big.

Just a few of Mary’s favorite beers (the craft kind—not the shitty beer he drank on his shoestring budget), some of that chronic shit you’d scored and have been saving for a special occasion, and a VHS box set of horror movie classics.

***

Mary comes in and out of your life at will, and that was something you accepted—knowing he was As Is or not at all. And honestly—no, really—you liked that. You had your own shit going on, and being Mary’s expected caregiver was NOT something you wanted to add to that list.

(If someone else wanted to try to tame him and pick up after him, well…kudos to them. Less work for you.)

Mary showed up on your pivotal days and he rubbed your feet and always invited you out to trivia. You'd held him when he was coming down from a bad trip and listened to his grievances and gave him a place to stay when he was persona non grata at his own. And in a way, that made you always feel like #1 in Mary’s world…and that was good enough for you.

***

A few months ago, Mary had been lying on your couch, picking the label off his beer bottle.

“I’m gonna be away for a bit,” he’d said.

“Oh?” you’d responded as you’d mashed the controls on your gaming controller.

“Yeah. I mean, I’ll be around…but I got some shit going on.”

You’d paused your game.

“Bad shit?”

He’d waved you off.

“Neg. Just tryna get myself out there. Signed up for open mics and shit.”

He’d shifted, his long legs receding from around you and folding under him.

“So, like…I got my job at the bowling alley…but nights and weekends are kinda shot.”

You’d tried not to let the disappointment show on your face. You supported Mary’s dreams, and that meant not making an issue that he was finally trying to do something about them.

This wasn’t against you. It was for him.

When you’d taken too long to respond, his face had scrunched.

“But if you want—”

“It’s fine, Mare,” you’d said as you’d made yourself smile. “This is important to you, so it’s important to me.”

You’d unpaused your game.

“Just don’t expect me to not beat this game without you.”

He’d grabbed the controller out of your hands with a snarl, causing you to cry out when you died.

“Fuck the game.” His hand had fisted your shirt. “Give me a night to remember.”

You had. Twice.

***

Mary had texted you occasionally over the next few weeks—a few memes, a few drunken key-smashes, a dick pic, and 2 grainy videos of his performances for critique—but such contact was sporadic, and you’d never seen him in real-time.

He’d blown in one night, five weeks in, with a box of pizza just as you'd been heading out to meet your crew. When you’d told him you’d made plans, he’d looked so crestfallen that you’d caved and canceled on them.

While he’d been there, he’d given you a date in 3 weeks.

“That Saturday I have nowhere to be,” he’d said as he’d chewed. “I can spend the whole day with you.”

You’d been careful not to seem too eager.

“Oh yeah? Should I plan shit?”

He’d crammed the whole crust into his mouth and had given you a doughy grin.

“Why ’’ya think I told you?”

You didn’t know what you’d expected, but when he’d had to bounce 90min later, you were still surprised. (That was hardly enough time to digest!)

“Sorry,” he’d winced. “I gotta be on a bus in 45min.”

He’d left, and you’d been too embarrassed to join your friends who were only just going to the second bar.

Having fun with your man ;) ? one of your friends had texted.

What do you think? You’d texted back before changing into your pjs and turning on Netflix.

***

So maybe you were low-key excited about your day with Mary.

Perhaps you’d spent those 3 weeks figuring out the perfect date—something that said, “I missed you,” without saying “But in a clingy way.”

Beer and horror were two things the both of you were totally into, and you knew he’d be exhausted, so it seemed perfect. You’d bought the boxed set off of eBay and splurged for expedited shipping; you’d borrowed your brother’s old dual TV/VCR from his college days; and you’d forgone your weekly Chinese takeout for the craft beer funds. (And if things got steamy, well…even better.)

***

A few days before The Date, you’d run into Mary on the bus. You were coming home from a shift, and he was going to his.

He’d brightened and waved you over—as if you weren’t already on your way—and you’d plopped down beside him with a tired grin. You’d told him of the latest entitled asshole, and he’d showed you another clip of him on guitar.

Before your stop had come up, you’d tentatively placed your hand over his.

“We still on for Saturday?”

He’d blinked at you a few moments before grinning.

“Yeah.”

“Should I plan a whole day for us, then?”

His arm had crept around your shoulders before pulling you into him to kiss your temple.

“Yeah, why not.”

***

That morning, you wake up happy.

Mary will be over soon.

You roll over and grab your phone.

When should I expect you? :-*

It takes him an hour to respond. You aren’t surprised—Mary isn’t known for being a morning person—so when your phone dings, you grab it up excitedly.

An excitement that dies when you read his text. And reread. And re-reread.

not 2day

goin upste 2 show

You blink.

What show? Didn’t we confirm?

yeah. got me thinkin

why no show?

so i chked

i missed one

gotta do it

Rage blooms hot, then cold behind your eyes and down your cheeks.

But you said we had the whole day. I made plans.

save em

ths is impt 2 me

We’ve had this planned for weeks.

i thot u suprted me

on a bus cnt tlk

You send a few more irate texts, but he doesn’t respond, and you toss your phone across the room with a shout of frustration. You scrub the hot tears from your eyes before they can fall.

And…on paper, Mary isn’t wrong. Nothing you had planned won’t keep: movies, beer, takeout.

But…

It gives you a stark look at what you mean to Mary. He gave you this date and confirmed it. He knew you were making plans.

How long was he going to wait to tell you he wasn’t even in the city anymore?

You fight the urge to kick the VHS tapes across the floor, but you open the fridge and grab a beer. If Queen Elizabeth could have beer for breakfast, then it was good enough for you.

Once you’ve downed all eight, you move on to the jug of vodka you keep for cleaning.

When you empty only liquid from your stomach into the toilet, you grab your frozen fries out of the freezer. You roll a handful of the cold ones in your mouth as you wait for the others to crisp in the oven, and once you’ve consumed the cooked ones, you go right back to the vodka.

***

Opening your eyes the next morning is a mistake, so you take a few deep breaths and go back to sleep.

When you wake again, your heart is fluttering, your stomach turns, and it feels like there’s an ice pick behind one eye. Shuffling slowly, you make your way out to your kitchen where you take some painkillers, drink some pickle juice, and eat two slices of plain bread.

The sense that you did something awful stays with you, but you’re in no condition to find your phone and see what you’ve done. Instead, you go back to bed. It takes more deep breathing to settle yourself, but once you do fall asleep, you’re out for hours.

You don’t feel amazing when you swim to consciousness again, but you feel at least like a human being.

Your phone is dead when you find it under the sink, and waiting the 5 or so minutes for it to charge feels like waiting to face the executioner.

It’s both better and worse than you expected.

You breathe a sigh of relief to see that there are no vague social media posts, and you didn’t drunk dial any of your friends, but…

The texts to and from Mary are ugly.

Apparently, you’d managed not to send him angry texts until he’d sent you another clip of his performing. But then the floodgates had opened.

You’d started with telling him you didn’t give a shit about the show, how he was an inconsiderate ass, and then you'd devolved into incomprehensible, typo-ridden texts that accused him of using you, that you were only something to do when he didn’t have anything better to do, that he was an entitled man-child and if he didn’t apologize, you were done.

Mary’s texts in response range from him being angry at your disregard, to heated retorts you were blowing this out of proportion (and he didn’t appreciate your “ad hominem” attacks), to a cool detachment that this wasn’t working over text and he’d finish this in person.

You put your head in your hands but are too dehydrated to cry.

***

Mary doesn’t text you again during his self-imposed time frame.

You don’t text him either, but that’s more out of self-preservation than pride. There’s no point exacerbating the situation…and you’re pretty sure there’s no coming back from this, so why speed up the inevitable?

The horror tapes taunt you every time you walk by them, and you wonder if you can return them (you can’t). You give the TV back to your brother, and when he asks you how it went, you plaster a smile on your face and say, “Great!” with forced enthusiasm you hope comes across as genuine.

The primo weed goes over to your friend’s house, and the two of you wax poetic all night about existential claptrap as you devour two cheese pizzas and a bag of bbq chips. You talk about Mary without talking about Mary, and you get a heartfelt, “Sorry, dude.”

You beat the video game anyway, but it’s mostly because you needed something to occupy your mind and less out of spite (though that’s there as well).

***

Despite waiting on tenterhooks to hear anything from Mary, you truly don’t really expect to. You know you’d been atrocious, even if it had been prompted by his careless disregard, and you know Mary isn’t really the kind of guy that troubles himself with relationships that are hard.

Not that you’re in a relationship.

So when there’s a knock on your door a week later and Mary’s behind it, you’re genuinely surprised.

You gape through the peephole in shock.

“Fuck. If you’re there, just let me in, ok?”

Fumbling with the chain, you unlock the door and crack it open.

“Mary?”

“You gonna let me in?” he rasps.

You shrug and step away from the door, and he shuffles inside. He looks around like you’ve changed anything (you haven’t), before turning around to face you.

You close the door and stare back.

He folds his arms. “Breaking up with someone over text is tacky.”

What you think is, So you’ve come to do it in person, but what you say is, “Can’t break up if you’re not together.”

He winces and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah…apparently I’ve ‘taken advantage' of you.”

This…isn’t what you’re expecting.

“I…what?”

“Can we sit down?”

You nod, and Mary sits rigidly on the edge of your couch. You curl up in the chair on the opposite side.

He rubs his palms down his greasy jeans before he speaks.

“I mean…you pissed me off, ok?”

You nod.

“But, like—you weren’t wrong, ok? I kinda knew that deep down, but I’m a dumbass, you know?”

You don’t nod.

“And I kinda bitched about the whole thing…but the resounding response was that I was the asshole.”

He angles his body toward you.

“I guess I’ve kinda been treating you like my best friend that I fuck sometimes.”

Your entire face flushes—you’d always thought you’d maybe ranked a little higher than that—and you duck your head so he can’t see the tears that you blink back.

There’s a swish of fabric, and you startle hard when Mary’s hand is at your chin. He jerks back with a Sorry.

“Shit—that’s not what I…” he blows out a breath and puts his hands behind his head before looking back up at you.

“But you aren’t, and…fuck this is harder than I thought.”

So this is it.

Waiting for him to do the deed is clearly going to be excruciating, so you take charge of this whole shit-show.

“I understand,” you say flatly.

“You do?”

“It’s ok, Mare-Mary. It’s my own fault for reading too much into it. I just…I saw what I wanted to see, I guess. I know you don’t need…” you look down into your lap, “…my shit in your life.

He makes a noise low in his throat, and then he’s squatting in front of you, his hot hands planting on your knees.

“But I want your shit in my life.”

You squint your eyes at him.

“But what I said…”

He grasps your hands in his.

“Pissed me off, yeah…cuz I wasn’t fucking thinking, ok? You’re like one of the only people who gives a crap about what’s important to me. And all I could see was you suddenly…not.”

Anger wells up in you again, and you yank away your hands.

“Weeks, Mary…weeks of you all over the tri-state area, and you thought I didn’t care because of one night?! A night you promised to me?”

He sits back on his heels. “I know…fuck. Ok? At the time, it just felt…like the show couldn’t be rescheduled. Our night could.”

Because you’re what he does when he’s bored.

You curl in on yourself.

“Shit.” He leans forward again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, ok? I’m fucking on my knees here.”

You blink at him.

What?

“Please, please don’t break—say we’re done.”

“What?”

“Look, we can go into my shitty fucking psychological profile on why I fuck around later…but right now I need you to know that I knew it was you before I fucking knew it was you.”

You uncurl.

“That…’what’ was me?”

He knees forward and presses your hands to his face.

“The one I wanna spend my free time with. The one whose opinion means the most. The one who was the first person I wanted to share all my good shit with. You’re the one I missed, and—after that awful fucking night—everything felt pointless because I knew I couldn’t come over and jam about it.”

“Mare—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a fucking dumbass. I’m saying I thought I was pissed at you, but I was pissed at myself for fucking it up.” He sighs. “I’m saying no fucking one was on my side and they all told me to get my shit together.”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, and for the first time, you can see how they’re outlined in red, his subtle crow’s feet more pronounced.

“So, you’re not done with me? I’m not…too much trouble?”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “What? Shit, no. I’m asking you to not be done with me. I’ll give you all the nights you want. Fucking text me, and my ass’ll be here posthaste.” He shifts up, and his thumb ghosts over your lips. “Anything to get you to give me that secret smile again.”

“Secret smile?” you ask while trying to perform the action.

Mary actually blushes.

“Uh…yeah. You get this…” he makes a motion across his face, “…when you’re giving it back to me.” His fingers shove back through his hair as he casts his eyes down. “You don’t give it to anyone else.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ve made a study of it.”

You’re a swirl of emotions. Mary’s apologized—has admitted he was wrong and has asked for…more—but you’re still hurt. And embarrassed.

But he’s looking up at you with wet, hopeful eyes.

“Do you…” you start carefully, “…do you know why I got so mad?”

That statement was clearly not what he was expecting, and he blinks at you a few times before nodding and looking down at the floor.

“I made a…uh, commitment…to you. And I treated it like it didn’t mean anything.”

He gives you a look like, Did I get it right? and that’s close enough—even if he’s missing some of the nuance.

You nod. “And I know I…wasn’t…the best.”

His face contorts, and your heart sinks.

“You…” he shakes his head. “You said some awful things…some hurtful shit—and it really got in my head.”

Mary gives you a complicated look.

“Shit that you’d been pissed about for a while.” He traces your knee. “Shit you could’ve said to me…but shit I should have noticed. Fuck.” He presses his forehead into your knees, and you can’t stop yourself from sinking your fingers into his hair.

He takes it as encouragement and presses into you before looking up again.

“I just kinda wanna put that whole night behind us. It feels like a fucking ouroboros of fault. And like maybe I created it. But let’s agree to like…not do that again.”

You look down at him, and his eyes search your face.

“Ok…but what does all this mean, Mare? I can’t…I need to be something to you, ok? More than just your friend.”

Mary nods emphatically, and he takes your hand and curls his into it.

“No more fuck-ups, and no one else…can we start there?”

He’s saying all the right words, but you’re still trepidatious—you know Mary, and he doesn’t like constraints.

“I…just…how can I believe you?”

He shakes his head like he can’t believe you even have to ask. He rises and awkwardly reaches out to touch your face before drawing his hand back.

“Cuz you’re important to me. I care about you, and I don’t want to lose you. Ever.”

And yeah. Ok.

#asks #mary goore #gender neutral #hurt/comfort #my writing #original post

64 notes · View notes

cadopan · 2 years

Text

Arsenal’s player ratings for Arsenal vs Leicester City FAWSL Matchday 9 (4-0)

4 points clear at the top of the league is a massive way to be ending this week, after the glum results we were getting hit by. The team was more un-clinical than clinical today if we’re being honest, but Leicester did us a huge favour by keeping such a ridiculously high line throughout, they were basically saying “go ahead, attack the spaces behind our fullbacks with your speediest wingers” lol. Some big performances too which was nice to see.

Starting XI:

Lydia — 6/10. didn’t have a save to make all game, so it was good to see her get a feel for the grass again, but the important thing is that Manu finally got some rest after carrying the team on her back the last two games. Patsy — 6.5/10. pleasantly surprised to see her get a start (and Noelle getting rest), she did okay but she’s still raw so I can’t say I feel the most assured just yet. also likes to get forward aggressively, but doesn’t really do it in a measured way like Noelle does when she overlaps, and ends up caught out of position sometimes when the ball is lost, which is concerning. she got an entire 90 minutes under her belt though, so kudos to Jonas for that. Lotte — 6/10. good to see her back after an FA Cup final to forget, but still, giving the ball away too easily and too often. when is our defence going to get those sloppy mistakes out of their system? it’s good enough we aren’t being raided by a forward line like Barca’s or Chelsea’s, there is no reason to be making dangerous errors against a Leicester team that’s barely putting pressure on you. that CB situation is our glaring weak spot; Lotte is part of the future but even after Leah is back we need reinforcements in the next transfer window ASAP. Simone Boye — 6/10. i’ve said this before, but she is not convincing man. given that she’s a senior player with supposedly plenty of experience under her belt from Bayern and she’s a signing personally picked out by Jonas, i don’t see it. her ball control gave me mini-heart attacks at times and she isn’t an asset in terms of buildup because she doesn’t take risks with her passes into midfield or really know how to do anything except divert the ball to the sides. (and since the backline will inevitably be stuck with the most possession when playing against a congested low block aka most teams in the WSL, you can’t exactly be offering zero creativity as a CB when it comes to buildup play). edit: just re-watched the game, and she actually had a couple nice threaded passes to Parris so I was probably a little harsh on that buildup aspect. defensively still kinda suspect tho.

Katie — 6.5/10. meh, didn’t really affect the game but kept the left side pretty quiet for the time she was on so a rather ordinary, uneventful day at the office for her. someone needs to take her off free-kick duties though, what even was that mix-up with Jordan that they attempted? (after the red card.) Steph can take the leftie ones cause Katie’s set-pieces have been quite off for a little while now. Lia — 7.5/10. i thought all the midfielders had an awesome game today, and Lia was definitely taking advantage of Leicester’s set-up to spray long balls left and right. beautiful defence-splitting through balls and assured control of the midfield whenever the defenders looked a little shaky; great comeback from her performances in the last two matches. as the holding midfielder, I’m still divided between her and Frida, but if she can maintain the composure that she has in matches like today against good opponents as well, we should go with her. (especially since Frida displayed nice attacking prowess today)

Mana — 7.5/10. finally got her deserved minutes, and just like Lia, had a field day bopping passes in between and over Leicester’s high line, and especially came alive in the second half. robbed of a couple assists (looking at you Viv and Keets, lol) but still little moments of Mana Magic here and there as she turned defenders inside out and glided past them without breaking a sweat. although, she needs to get into more goal-scoring positions to offer more of a threat (she often plays too deep imo because she likes to receive the ball at her feet).

Jordan — 8/10. what a way to send a message, bravo Jordan. absolute standout player in the first half (have to say she faded a bit aside from the pinpoint assist in the second), and she completely made that midfield hers. every time she played a key pass or did something good i just chuckled to myself thinking how stupid it was making Jonas look for the way he disrespected her like that. hopefully that scene of her and Jonas having a shoulder hug is a sign of better things to come for Jords.

Beth — 6.5/10. had a quiet-ish game like Katie, but that was nothing unexpected, given how hard she’s worked over the past week and also was one of the few who put in a real shift like Manu did against Barca and Chelsea. just happy to see her withdrawn early so she can get some rest in those tired legs.

Viv — 7/10. was almost going to give her a 6.5 there because other than her goal (which was a tap-in from five yards out), the sheer amount of chances she fumbled today stood out more than anything. balls were served onto a plate for her (multiple chances from exactly the same positions), and she could’ve had a double hat-trick today if she was feeling like it. concerning if we’re looking at today’s game alone, but not so much in the grander picture of things because she probably just needs to kick on after barely getting any service / doing mostly ball-chasing for the past two games.

Keets — 8/10. i know Jordan got MOTM “officially”, but i just want to give it to Keets personally because she didn’t truly reap the rewards of the insane amount of work she got through today. this game was made for her; acres of space for her to run into, which she did tirelessly and never did she look like she was gearing down, even at the very end! would’ve been icing on the cake if she just managed to guide her shot on target after doing all the hard work to round the keeper at that very last chance. 50th WSL goal definitely not far away though. and the way she literally o-u-t-p-a-c-e-d that Leicester defender before she was toppled yet again in the second half was brilliant to watch. her speed is a major major asset, plus she has the stamina to keep the engine going full match.

Subs:

Steph — 7/10. great stuff from Steph today; one of the standouts of the subs and the lovely crosses she’s capable of delivering were showcased for everyone to see today. BUT! i hope this game was truly a prime example to Jonas of why exactly she and Katie should never play on the same flank together: they simply offer the same things. Steph does well and can get creative combinations going when she plays with a winger in front of her like Mana today (later in the second half) who can drift inwards and give her the space she needs to overlap along the touchline. when Steph and Katie play together they get in each other’s way and it’s just a congested stalemate on the left side because they tend to occupy the same spaces with their similar playing style and attributes (crossing).

Kim — 6.5/10. definitely injected some life and passing movement into the attack which was kind of tapering off until the triple subs were made. good that we got to rest her for the next game.

Viki — 5.5/10. re: the CB situation written about above. good to see her come back from injury after injury, but what was up with those misplaced passes gifted to the opponents right in the middle of the pitch? might sound harsh, but i still haven’t seen why she’s in this team (purely performance-wise, idk about her personality etc) and we probably have to move on from her if we can.

Frida — 7.5/10. the Norwegians and their headed goals this week! love to see it. the way she attacked those headers with venom, put ideas in my head that she could even be converted to a no. 9 one day and be a proper striker. nice bounce back from her too after two weak performances in a row.

Teyah — N/A. not on long enough but showed a glimpse of what’s in store with that sliding challenge she made right in front of Lydia at the very end. promising stuff.

sidenote: was Tobin there? even the pundits were wondering where on earth she was. i’d really love a concrete update on her injury situation and possible recovery timeline, it feels like we got her for the briefest of moments and she was snatched away from us. am also uber confused with the way NWSL and the player rights system works so i wonder how long we’re actually having her with us. hopefully for the entire season (and potentially more!); she hasn’t even gotten to play at the Emirates and all yet, which must defo be the ultimate Gooner experience for her.

Bonus:

Jonas Eidevall — 6.5/10. haven’t been impressed with him at all lately, but he did well with his selections today and pretty much all of them delivered too. can’t say anything on the tactics front, because even a child watching could immediately understand that all that was needed was to go long into the wide areas and you’re in on goal. i get why he didn’t rest Beth and Katie from the start, not wanting to leave it late then panic for the win and risk regretting it like Chelsea did, but surely Caitlin deserved some time today? not sure what’s up with that, given that she barely played much the past two games too.

Referee — 6/10. spot on with the red card and also the yellow cards dished out (why were the Leicester players unable to contain their tantrums and repeatedly kicking the ball away?). that was a red all day even if the shove on Keets didn’t have a lot in it (which it did anyway imo), if you send someone to the ground as the last player, out ya go. and sidetracking but now that i’m reminded we were playing against 10 players, 4-0 is quite underwhelming. double digits should have been hit easily, our finishing was poor. Overall: much more enjoyable watching this time for all of us, but it’s evident that fatigue and rustiness/off-pace tendencies are setting in. still, a professional job all in all that we didn’t look in doubt at securing that comfy top spot in the league, and we seem to be heading into a comfortable patch of fixtures until the end of the year. COYG

26 notes · View notes

gentrychild · 3 years

Text

BNHA chapter 291 reactions

That’s one adorable child and that’s also one horrible way to die.

Not that we’re sure that he actually die, since 1. He is here and living his full theater kid potential. 2. For anyone who is reading BNHA vigilante, you would know that it’s not the first time AFO grabbed a hero student who may or may not have died.

Now, my question is “Where do that lower jaw bone came from?” Can you still extract DNA from something that was practically cremated? If not, does AFO have a room with a bunch of bones that he can drop on his way out?

Also, how old is Touya here? I know he looks younger than he is but is he old enough to be in UA?

I. Need. Answers.

That’s the second kid who got white hair after a ridiculously powerful quirk appeared and I now have other questions.

Such as, will I get a white-haired-Izuku anytime soon?

By the way, can we consider that Tenko and Touya have quirk singularities?

1. I can hear half of the writing community weeping because Touya had red hair. And at least one other person grumbling because Touya changing hair color with the seasons.

2. It’s incredible how tiny Touya doesn’t look like the Touya we know. He had a completely different demeanor.

3. Good to know Endeavor was not always a dick.

Don’t mind me, I am just fascinated at seeing tiny Touya looking at Baby Fuyumi (while clutching my chest because them being twins is jossed). That’s the most adorable thing I have ever seen.

Also, very relieved to know that Rei agreed to have several kids.

Now, I need to know what happened to make that family collapse.

Touya is wearing different clothes than in the first image so that means he might have some resistance at first but his fire grew too hot for his body.

Now, my question is: how come he couldn’t regulate the temperature of his flames like fire users in his family?

Am I... feeling bad... for Endeavor?

Oh my.

You know, you might have been invited if he had known you were alive.

I love Dabi’s face here. He is such a little shit.

Reminder that they are all stuck here until Shigaraki actually tells Machia to move.

I don’t know about you but I find it absolutely hilarious that Gigantomachia picked them up, brought them to the most dangerous place in the whole combat zone as the number 1 hero and the craziest hero students around are here, and is now refusing to move.

Honestly? If Dabi wasn’t accidentally holding the floor, they would have been incinerated.

What are you trying to say, Harima Oji?

Are you a secret Todoroki family member too?

Or did you hear Shigaraki call Izuku little brother and you’re now trying to wrap your mind around everyone around here apparently being related and this war being the messiest Sunday family dinner ever?

I actually wanted to talk about that because this DNA test is absolutely useless. I can assure you that people probably can’t even read those pages and even if they can, it would be just so easily to fake.

Actually, you know what? If Dabi didn’t do that on his computer on his own, I would just be so disappointed because waving a DNA around is just pointless in this situation.

Especially as I don’t see when he had the time to get some blood from the Kyushu fight? He only had the time to take two steps in Endeavor’s direction before running like hell when Miruko arrived (which was a rare sign of common sense, so kudos to him, I guess.)

You hear that sound?

That’s the sound of Dabi destroying his family every chance at being normal once again. Forget all the progress they made, they will now be under public scrutiny forever, everyone having an opinion on their family.

That will wreck them.

And I am not even talking about Rei.

I see that at this point, Dabi is just ending for everyone’s career...

I am just going to stay there and stare at the wall as I am thinking about Dabi broascasting a murder on every screen of the country.

That’s just so disrespectful to Twice. He fought for his friends and instead, Dabi turned his last moment in him desperately pleading.

Also, that was a really dumb move.

Listen here, kids, when you throw a mind-breaking revelation at someone, you stick as close to the truth as possible because if people find anything that doesn’t make sense, your whole story will be doubted.

Also, casual reminder...

Hawks recorded what was going on.

That means that if this recording thing is found, they can discredit Dabi’s entire story.

At this point, I am just trying to see if he still has his wings. That’s all I am asking. A confirmation that his feathers will grow back.

Just... stay asleep, Hawks. Rest for a week or two so someone can sort this mess. That’s your best course of action because if you woke up now, you would probably crawl back into a coma.

Was that a bird pun?

Now, that’s just being mean.

I think I remember than in Japan, being related to a criminal is not good, but since BNHA is set in the future, maybe things changed?

If not, I am curious to see how this revelation will affect Hawks. You know, just for sociological purposes.

*hangs on to Izuku who is related to the worst villain this country had ever know, and who actually destroyed Kamino and almost murdered All Might not too long ago*

*squints as I am trying to know what they are advertising*

Dabi: “Think more critically! Try to see things through my point of view, right after I admitted I killed 30 people!”

Reminder that the OG group who fought Shigaraki sacrificed everything to stall him, they are half dead, and they are now facing the end of their society as they know it.

That’s what despair looks like.

Be careful what you wish for, Todoroki Enji.

Shouto is just breaking my heart right now. This is a nightmare. He is the boy who made sure that they were alone when he told Midoriya about his family history. He is the boy who was just started to consider forgiving his father, or at the very least, working so their family would be happy. Things were starting to get better, and now, he has to deal with imminent death, his, his friends and his father.

He isn’t even asking Endeavor to fight Dabi. He will do it. He must know that Nejire and him simply can’t win against the LoV and Gigantomachia but it’s not like there is anyone else.

Everyone is down and right now, the number 1 hero is too shocked to even blink, and if he doesn’t pull himself together in the next second, they are going to die.

Damnit, Shouto actually called him father.

Hey, remember that attack that incinerated a noumu with Regeneration? That attack that Endeavor had to use high in the sky or the collateral damage would have been hellish, in every sense of the word?

Yeah, they almost all died right there.

WE STAN ONE HERO.

BEAST JEANIST, BACK FROM THE DEAD, READY TO JUDGE DABI FOR HIS CRIMES AGAINST FASHION (and also the war crimes, if you insist).

THAT’S WHY YOU FACT CHECK EVERYTHING, DABI. SO YOU DON’T LOOK LIKE AN IMBECILE AFTER YOU ACCUSED THE NUMBER 2 HERO OF KILLING THE MOST FABULOUS MAN OF THE COUNTRY.

#bnha 291 #bnha spoilers #bnha #bnha reactions

389 notes · View notes

linawritesfanficandmore · 2 years

Text

THE CRUEL WORLD WITH DISGUSTING PEOPLE LIVING IN IT

Summary:

gosh, this will be a hard chapter. Luffy's heat hit him before even the first week was over so he was off guard. luckily Zoro was there to save the day. you can always trust the first mate. TW: Sexual Harassment

Notes:

Hello there, I hope everyone is having a good time. Since I have a very important exam in two months, I am aware that I cannot write quickly and with high quality in the style I want. so I'm sorry. I'm also sorry for this chapter because this week I learned that one of my father's kidneys is covered by a very large cyst and that kidney most likely needs to be removed. My father asked my mother not to tell so that the exam would not be affected, but there would be no secret between me and my mom. My father would be very upset if he knew that I knew. so I have to pretend everything is fine, and frankly, it's exhausting. I think the reason why I want to continue fanfic is this fic is the only thing I enjoy doing in my life right now. Your comments and kudos put a smile on my face. so thank you all. I hope you all are enjoying it. I wish you good reading. I love you all and wish you a beautiful life.

////

Two days after Sanji's panic attack, Luffy went out for a walk. He actually felt bad in the morning, but he attributed it to his hunger. It had been easy for him to ignore the signs of pre-heat since he hadn't experienced any heat in 3 years.

He cursed himself when his legs couldn't carry him in the middle of the street. He should have returned immediately. But he didn't have the strength to stretch his arms. So he threw himself into an alley. It was hot. It was very hot. He should go back. He had to come back somehow. He didn't want to experience the same things again. Damn bond why don't you come in handy at times like these. Because heat was a natural phenomenon, the others could not feel his pain. Luffy was alone.

“Look here. Who would have thought we would find such a nice bitch in heat in such a dirty alley?” "Really!" “Oi! Isn't that the straw hat?" “When you say- yes he is! He was an omega. What a joke!” “I would love to make someone like him go against his nature to moan under me.” “Hey, I saw it first!” “I am the leader!” “Huh? Who made you a leader?!” "Everybody knows!"

Luffy couldn't quite grasp them. He had only one thing on his mind: “Going back to pack”. So while they were arguing, he started to take a step backward. Except for the two who were fighting, the alpha, unfortunately, noticed him. And he ran and knocked him down.

"Where do you think you're going, slut?!" "L-let me go..." “If you've been out even though you're in heat, you wanted it. And with shorts like this and a see-through T-shirt.” “s-stop… please… i-it hurts…” “Shhh… I'll take your pain away now.” "Hey!" "Hey!" “Sorry guys. I got him in my hands first.” “Alright. Just be quick! Can't wait for my turn.” “Okay. Now, where were we?” “WERE GONNA DIE!!!”

That sound?.. Gosh, Luffy was tired. He couldn't even understand who was the voice. But whoever they were must be a good person. He had beaten the man above him, and he wouldn't have pity on the others. So he let himself pass out.

***

Zoro had no plans for that day. Until Robin comes up to him and wants to accompany from him to the alley bookstore. Zoro had reluctantly agreed to be the head alpha and Robin now was from pack even though hadn't been bonded yet. That's why he couldn't turn down her offer. Along the way, Robin asked him for opinions about the others, and she kept praising and emphasizing the stupid cook for a reason he didn't understand. On their way back from the bookstore, they encountered an event they wished had never happened.

Luffy's sweet smell was coming from the alley. Zoro couldn't help himself when he saw that jerk on Luffy. As soon as he lifted the man, he crashed into the wall. So much so that the man's head went through it. While Zoro took care of the others, Robin immediately went to Luffy. She took Luffy in her arms. The scumbag had managed to unzip before Zoro arrived. She closed the zipper immediately. Luckily she was wearing a jacket today. She quickly dressed Luffy as well. Then lifted Luffy and forced him to drink a little water. After all, this was settled, she stood up with Luffy in her arms. Zoro was still kicking the guys.

“Zoro!” “WHAT?!” “He needs us more! We need to go back! Hurry!”

Zoro kicked him one last time and went over to them. When he wanted to take Luffy in his arms, Robin wouldn't let him. Just as Zoro was about to shout at her:

“We will need protection on the way back. He's releasing too many pheromones!”

Zoro accepted her explanation. So they somehow managed to get back to where they were staying. Once inside, Robin asks Nami and Sanji to help her build a nest. Then she gave Luffy to Zoro. The poor boy was still unconscious. Chopper approached Zoro nervously. Zoro explained the events. Others were listening to him while was nesting. Sanji could swear his heart stopped for a second. Seeing his hands shaking, Nami took his hand and told him to rest a bit. Sanji reluctantly agreed. After Zoro told everything, Chopper immediately checked Luffy. Fortunately, those scumbags hadn't physically harmed Luffy. Psychologically, it was clear that he was in shock. So when the nest was ready, they immediately put him in the nest. Meanwhile, Chopper asked Nami and Zoro to slowly release the soothing pheromones. Luffy needed familiar alpha pheromones right now. Sanji couldn't control himself too and snuggled right next to Luffy in the nest. Luffy didn't wake up until evening. But at least he didn't sleep restlessly either.

Starting

#omegaverse #alpha zoro #beta robin #omega luffy #omega sanji #alpha nami #pack #pack bonding #pack dynamics #tw

7 notes · View notes

ninnodesu · 3 years

Text

“Can I See You?” ch 5 || Modern!Thomas

It's time, guys. We've reached the ending of this little thing I created! I will be writing an epilogue, but the mainstory is now over.

I so hope you liked this little story, and I appreciate every single comment, kudos and share I've gotten from all of you! It's been so much fun actually writing and ending my first ever fanfiction! Thank you, thank you thank you! Tipjar/sneak peek collection

The more you started to walk on your own, the more the atmosphere in the house had changed. You could feel it, it was heavier. Charlie’s eyes had become colder. He started following you when he noticed that Thomas felt safer leaving you alone for longer periods of time. His eyes had almost gotten… hungrier.

The feeling of eyes dragging over your body during times you’d been alone and doing simple things such as baking, doing laundry, reading, was becoming something unbearable. You’d also begun to notice how Charlie had been home more in general. He came home earlier from his patrolling, and left later than he usually did. That is, if he left the house at all.

At first, it didn’t really bother you. You guessed he just wanted to spend time at home in general. But then came the subtle comments from him. Those… hints. Whispers directed at you if you were close enough to hear them; “Your leg looks nice ” and “I wouldn’t be runnin’ yet, though”. It was always either those hints, or he’d come straight up to you to stand close and breath in your scent. Charlie wasn’t stupid, though, he knew to keep away when Thomas was close by, but even if you remained close to your self-appointed guardian, you could still feel a pair of - literally - hungry eyes following you. Today, however, you were blessed. Because Charlie had decided to leave you alone thanks to Tommy, who you had dragged out to sit under one of the big trees at the end of the yard with. The weather was cool, the sun wasn’t as much of a scorcher for once, so you’d taken the opportunity to relax.

Tommy was leaning up against the tree while you resorted to lay down, starfishing in the grass. “Tommy?”, you spoke up, and he grunted in response. So you turned your head to look at him, noticing he had his eyes closed and arms crossed behind his head. “Does your face still hurt?”. Your only response from him was a side glance and a cocked eyebrow. “I mean…”, you sat up. “Does your face still hurt where you cut it?”, at that moment his brows knit together, still not giving you a proper response. “I’m just saying… If your face isn’t in pain…”, looking down you shrugged. That’s when a deep sigh erupted from him and he proceeded to lean forward. He glared at you, annoyance clear as glass, and you knew; You pushed that particular button one too many times “I...I’m sorry I just…”, you stammered out. He was tense as he raised one hand to spell.

‘E’ ‘n’ ‘o’ ‘u’ ‘g’ ‘h’

And that was it. He left you sitting alone on the grass outside as he stomped off, hands clenched into fists. And you knew you’d gone too far. The front door slammed hard enough for you to hear it, even though you were a few feet away and you flinched slightly.

“Shit…”, you mumbled to yourself and laid on your back again.

Looking up into the sky, you traced the clouds as they slowly drifted by, and your thoughts started to venture into your life back home. Sure, you have your family. But the contact with them has always been sporadic. Not because you didn’t care for them, but only because that's just… how it’s always been. A natural occasional communication, which both you and your parents are comfortable with. Friends? That’s another deal. You have a few, and you keep in contact with them, but you’re not close to any of them. Most of them just being the “ I know you through that person who I met at a party ”-kind of friendship. But you always felt that was better than not having anyone at all.

All that thinking about home awoke a sudden urge to talk to your parents, and you patted the pockets on your jean shorts, cursing at the fact that you hadn’t brought your phone out with you. Groaning, you reluctantly got up from your place to head back in. You didn’t get far, however, before the apparent bloodhound Charlie had transformed into grabbed your arm and pulled you around a corner.

He gripped your upper arms hard enough to leave bruises as his eyes undressed you.

“So, your guard dog left ya, didn’t he?”, you just glared at him and scrunched up your nose as the smell of alcohol wafted towards you. "Let me go, Charlie.", you tugged your arms to try and free yourself, but his grip hardened, making you hiss in pain. "It’s Hoyt to you, bitch. ", he growled. "What do you want, Hoyt?", you pronounced his make-believe name in a childish way, doing your best to get your face into neutrality. "Oh, hun'", he started as one of his hands came up to caress one of your cheeks, "I think we can arrange somethin’ real nice." You turned your head from him, you couldn’t look at him, you knew exactly what he meant by that, and the thought alone was enough to make you sick. But your reaction was not what he wanted, as he grabbed your chin in a hard grip to make you look at him before he continued; “If ya can open those pretty legs o’ yours to his ugly mug”, he started breathing deeper, a low moan escapes him as he continues, “then maybe you’ll do the same for me.”

You just stared at him, Doing your best to hide the obvious shock at what he had said. But if his grin was something to go after; he saw it. “Oh, I heard ya alright. You think you’re being quiet, but I heard him fucking ya.”

You frowned at the obvious breach in private life. You shook your head to get away from his grip. “You make me sick.”, the only words you could even imagine giving as a retort before you inhaled sharply, as you felt one of his hands drag itself over one of your breasts. He leaned in close to your ear and whispered;

"I'll make ya feel better than him." You whimpered at his words, doing your absolute best to ignore the prickling sensation of oncoming tears. "That boy doesn't know how to properly treat a pussy." "Please… Let me go.", you couldn’t help the pathetic plea. "Or…" "Or what, bitch ? You'll call your dumb guard dog to come rescue you?"

That disgusting grin off his returned before he made your blood run cold; " I can't wait to eat you. "

Meanwhile, down inside the basement. Tommy was leaning on his hands as he looked into a cracked mirror, Thoroughly inspecting his scars and deformities. He hated what he saw, always had. He didn’t have a nose and parts of his lips were missing. Your words rang in his mind as he let his head hang.

I want you, Tommy.

For some reason, he was annoyed. The fact that your leg is fully healed now means you could just get up and leave him whenever you wanted. But he wanted to believe, by God, how much he wanted to believe that you wouldn’t. That you’d choose to stay with him, become his and, maybe even… He shook his head. That was a dumb thought.

Looking back up, he was met with a darker shade of his usually light eyes. And he sighed as a storm began to rage inside him.

- I told you. - Stop. - No, you stop, Tommy. Open your eyes. - I have. - You haven't opened them for shit. She's leaving you. - You don't know that!

He punched the mirror, and glass rained down. Blood welled up from where the glass cut him.

- I do know that. And you do too. - No. She- - She what? Loves you? - … - Look at yourself, man. You're nothing to her. - We slept together. - She did that to get on your good side. She did it for survival. - No… - Look in the mirror…

Thomas glanced down at one of the biggest shards on the ground;

- And come up with one good reason she would stay for that.

He growled and crushed the shard under his heavy boot before buckling his mask back on and walking up to the main floor. With the feeling of hunger attacking his stomach he did his best to try and sneak into the kitchen, knowing mama is making supper. His plans got spoiled, however, as he was quickly shooed away from the kitchen by words such as "I don't need you eating everything before dinner!" or "Nuh-uh, Thomas Hewitt. Don't think about snacking before dinner!". A towel getting smacked at his arm had him chuckling and raising his hands in defeat. So he decided to trudge to his upstairs bedroom instead.

A satisfied hum left him as he ran his fingers through the dirty locks on his head, his mask hanging loosely around his neck, before finally letting himself collapse on the bed. He grimaced a bit as he began picking on the bloody scabs that were starting to form.

Shit, these went deep…

He shrugged and proceeded to stare up at the ceiling. Again disappearing inside his head.

- Why don’t you go find her? - Why should I? - To tell her the truth. - Pssh. - Haha. See, I told you. - Told me what? - The truth. - That if you’re ever dumb enough to confess, - she’ll leave. - … - I’m just sayin’, since she can walk again. - I’ve told you to shut up. - Because you’re a pussy and can’t handle hearing facts. - She doesn’t love you. - She used you. Fucked you to get on your soft side. - Do you really think she would love you? Are you that dense? - What do you mean? - You think you could live a happy life? - Get married? - Have kids? - I… uh... - Jesus christ, you actually are stupid, Thomas. - …

He was jolted out of his brain as he heard a knock on his door, to which he tapped the floor with his boot in response. "Supper’s ready, hun.", his mama lit up the gloomy room when he saw her head poking in. He nodded and got up, tucking his hand away from sight. If she saw the cuts, he would just get an earful from her, something he was not in the mood for. The smell of food wafted through the main floor, and his stomach made one of the loudest growling sounds he’s heard; chili was on the menu. Looking around, he noticed you were nowhere to be seen… neither was Charlie. A detail that did not sit right in his gut. He tapped the table, gaining mama’s attention, and motioned to your empty seats;

‘Where are they?’

Luda just seemed to look at the chairs, then at Monty who just shrugged. "I don't know, dear." Thomas didn't like this, he couldn't trust his uncle alone with you. He knew Charlie was a creep towards women, especially so attractive ones. He had, unfortunately, both seen and heard it. But The funny feeling in the pit of his stomach began simmering down just slightly as he saw you both walk into the dining room. Your expression, however, made a chill run down his spine. You didn’t look at anyone. All you did was sit down in silence at the dinner table.

All of you hung your head and listened as Charlie began reciting the dinner prayer. Thomas nodded along as it ended with “ Amen ”. Tommy saw how you mainly just pushed food around with your spoon, mostly just taking the smallest of bites. He knew you weren’t the biggest fan of eating human meat, but he did also know you actually loved his mama’s chili. Wanting your attention, he nudged your ankle with his boot carefully, hoping you would look up at him or at least give him a glance. But you didn’t react much.

- I told you - Fuck off.

It mostly looked like you tucked your feet behind the legs of the chair, if the way your thighs moved as he looked over you was anything to go by.

Dinner was silent, only a slight murmuring coming from mama and Charlie. Thomas finished eating first, but decided to stay seated and wait for you. He wanted to know what was up with you and why you looked so… out of it. Your expression relaxed, no smile. Your eyes looked empty, merely staring out into nothingness as you slowly forced yourself to eat. Something was up. But as you thanked mama for the meal and rose to stand up, with Thomas mimicking you; Charlie spoke up. “Thomas, sit down.”, The man stopped in a hunched over position, hands flat on the table, brows furrowed. He glanced over to you, who looked pale and your lips were pressed into a thin line as you left in a hurry. Clatter then came from the kitchen and it almost sounded like you basically threw your plate into the sink. He listened to your footsteps. And finally, a clue. The back door closed shut.

Back yard. Barn, probably.

“Thomas.”, Charlie’s voice rang out again, harder. He just looked over at his uncle with a cocked eyebrow, sitting across from him as he sat back down. “It’s time we talked, boy.”, slowly, Thomas’ breathing increased, brows knitting together as he signed.

‘About what?’

“About your friend, hun.”, his mama spoke out next to him and he snapped his head to look at her before mouthing the word “ no ” towards her. “Tommy, it’s time we talked about this. We agreed.”

‘I’m not killing her, mama.’

His hand movements were stiff, and his face twisted into a scowl. His mama sighed and proceeded to lean back and put her hands on her lap. “I know you like this girl, darlin’, but…”, he was breathing heavily, the thick leather of the mask making every breath sound like a huff. The look between his mama and Charlie made him sick. Banging the table with the palm of his hand he gestured for her to continue before inquiring;

‘But, WHAT?’

“She ain’t family, boy.”, with those words Thomas shot up from the chair, knocking it back on to the floor. He was furious. It was rare for him to get that angry at his own family, which made his motion all the more shocking to the rest of the people in the room. ‘ What do you mean she’s not family?’ In his mind, he knew it was a stupid question. The only one who knew you, was him. They didn’t. To them, you were nothing more than cattle. He stormed out, kicking one of the empty chairs out of his path and making it fly to the corner of the room. “THOMAS BROWN HEWITT!”, his mother called after him. But he ignored her. He couldn’t look at her. All those times she’d talked about grandbabies, and then she was talking about taking away the only person who… He just shook his head and headed off to the barn.

Thomas was off to hunt a specific kind of prey.

The barn was cool and damp, a stark contrast to the settling warmth of the evening sun. You’ve curled up behind an old rundown couch in one of the corners to try and hide from the world. Charlie’s voice echoed in your head. You just wanted to go home, to your apartment, most preferably with Tommy. The only person who could make this hell house bearable. A sudden gust of cool evening wind hit you, and a shiver ran down your spine. “I don’t want to die…”, you mumbled into your arms as you wrapped them around your knees and sobbed. Heavy tears accompanied by hulking whimpers. You were crying loudly, almost screaming out your pain in a desperate way to drown out what Charlie had told you before dinner.

“I hope you said your goodbyes, girlie” “What do you mean?” His smirk, his disgusting grin plastered on his face and that breath that reeked of stale tobacco and alcohol. “You’re invited to our Sunday barbeque,” a tongue slowly dragging over your neck, “but you’re not going to like the menu.”

Heavy, shuffling footsteps alerted you of his presence and made you glance in their general direction before peeking up from the back of the couch. And there you saw him, that beacon of light of yours, how he knew you went out here, you weren't sure. But there he was, and so were you. Taking a deep breath, you swallowed down any remaining tears and hulking sobs. "I'm here.", you weakly called out and threw a hand up from behind the sofa to notify where exactly " here " is. You didn’t have to look up to know he was leaning over the back of the couch, because your entire form was cast in shadow. All you did was curl back up into a ball. "What do you want?", you mumbled, probably too low for him to hear properly, but then the robotic voice you’ve come to associate Tommy with rings out in the barn.

Talk

"About what?", you swallowed again, Fear of what might be about to come bubbling in your stomach.

Charlie

You grimaced as you heard that disgusting name, but you put on a childish voice and imitated Charlie. " Actually, it's Hoyt .", why you did it you weren't sure. But you figured it was because of the sheer fact that you couldn’t stand being mad around Thomas. And you smiled as you heard that deep chuckle of his come from above you. Suddenly, you felt a large hand come lay on the top of your head. He smoothed your hair down, putting a stray strand behind the part of your ear he could reach. Looking up, you were met with those deep eyes of his. His hand pulled away slightly, but all you did was reach for it with your own and put it to your cheek, nuzzling into his rough and calloused but soft palm.

You closed your eyes while enjoying the feeling of his warm hand against your cheek. But then, the memories of what Charlie had told you crept back into your mind. You were invited to a barbeque, but not the way you'd like to be. Reaching up, you grip around Thomas' wrist desperately. Full of angst, fear, a grasp signaling he's the only thing holding you above water. But you couldn't look at him, if you opened your eyes at this moment, the floodgates would open. Because you were too scared of the fact that one day you’d never see his face again.

You didn’t want to look at the man you were going to leave in the worst way possible. Even if you did your best to swallow any and all sobs that wanted to escape, eventually you couldn’t anymore. And you cried. Fat tears running down your cheeks and over Thomas’ hand still resting on you, a big thumb coming to wipe one of them away. His hand disappeared from you before you heard shuffling and a low grunt. Shortly after, you found yourself surrounded by two big arms that lifted you up, only to be sat down on his lap.

His hold was warm, comforting, a castle of coziness and solace. You woke up one day, terrified for your life, looking up into the eyes of the man you’ve talked to online for months, maybe even close to a year, waiting to die by his hand. But now; those very hands were holding you tight to him, shielding you from the real monster, and all you could do was cry. You felt his chest start to vibrate before you heard a low and booming… hum. Thomas was humming a tune, a melody you hadn’t heard before, and soon after, you felt him ever so slowly start to sway from side to side. He was comforting you.

He sighs as he rests his chin on top of your head, calmly swinging while humming the lullaby his mama always sang for him when he had nightmares, or came home after getting rocks thrown at him. He couldn’t be angry at you anymore for nagging on him to start talking. You felt as small as you did during the nights you’d had nightmares and asked him to come sleep with you.

Right then, and right there, he could stay forever. That was better than the first time you’d had sex. When he felt that you’d started to relax a little bit and when he noticed your sobs had started to die down, he swallowed, wetting his dry throat before clearing it with a faint cough. “Mine.” He lifted his head as you looked up at him with huge eyes. An unsure smile danced on his lips before he gave a small, discreet nod. Hoping you would get his message, what he wanted to convey.

You were his. In his heart, you had been his for a long time and Tommy could never live with himself if he lost you without letting you know that you were. He knew the conversation wasn’t over yet, due to the fact that Hoyt would still be on his ass about killing you. And if Thomas wasn’t careful enough; he would do it himself. You weren’t safe here anymore, and he knew that. The deal was that you could stay alive until your leg healed. What would happen after that? Tommy was truly scared that he would lose you, one way or another, and he made the decision to confess his feelings for you then and there. The look you gave him sent the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy. Carefully, he took your chin and turned your head slightly for him to easier whisper into your ear; “You’ve always been mine.”

He bit back a chuckle when you quickly turned your head to look him in his eyes. “What…”, all he did in response was smile at you and slide a hand under your jaw to caress your cheek with his thumb as he took your face in, making sure to remember it. His eyes travelled over your eyebrows, outlining the shape of your nose... Those beautiful eyes, and the shape of your cupid's bow, loving the fact that your lower lip was just slightly thicker than the upper one. He moved his thumb from your cheek to slowly let it drag on the edge of your lower lip. Your heart fluttered in your chest, butterflies wreaking havoc in your stomach as you felt his lips land on yours. It’d been two weeks since you’d slept together. Neither of you had initiated anything more than just leaning up against one another - or mostly you using Tommy as a pillow - while watching late-night TV when neither of you could sleep.

His lips were warm, his raspy breathing fanning over your cheek as you entangled your hand in his dark locks of brown to pull him closer to you as you accepted his kiss. A small delighted hum came from him as you did. He surprised you, however, as he made the decision to deepen your kiss, a sign of dominance he hadn’t shown you before. His heavy tongue asking for entrance by tenderly dragging over your lower lip. And you happily accepted his question, parting your lips to give his strong muscle room to take the control he seemed eager to express.

You only gave him a quick taste, however, then moved around on his lap to instead straddle his big thighs and wrap your legs around his waist. Thomas, ever the shy man he was, reacted as you’d expected him to. His face turned a lovely shade of red, and his hands started to awkwardly hover over your hips. Every ounce of bravery he just had in his body seemed to have just seeped out through his very pores. Hands balled into fists only to unclench again.

You giggled at how fast he relaxed as you took his hands and put them on your hips. “Tommy… Relax.”, you whispered close to his face. “You’ve touched me before. Remember?”, you breathed out a laugh as you saw his eyes shoot open, his face becoming redder as he nods quickly, and his eyes dart around the barn as if trying to avoid you. Your fingers carded through his hair to find the buckles of his mask. After silently asking for permission to remove it, a smile grew on your face as he nodded, closing his eyes as you slowly unbuckled it and put it down next to him.

His shyness always got to you. He was such a hulking giant, covered in muscles made for manual work, muscles made for crushing bones. His mere presence had the ability to invoke fear, yet there he was, seated on the floor behind a couch. A blushy mess, with you on his lap. It didn’t take long after straddling his thighs before he pressed his lips to yours. Again, he asked for permission to taste you. And again you gave it to him. His tongue met yours, and you moaned as he pressed his against it. Tongues, curious to taste and to feel one another. To commit each other's taste to memory. Last time, every kiss you had shared while he thrust himself into you was hurried, Hungry, and in the heat of the moment. But now? The kiss had a meaning, it was a silent communication between the two of you. It was between two people, two hearts connecting. Both of you knew what the kiss meant, you were made for each other.

You’d fallen in love with a perfect stranger, long before he had shown you his face. The way he had talked to you, about his hobbies. The love he had for his family, the passion for his work. He was your shelter and your knight. All it took for Thomas to fall for you? Your voice. He still remembered when you accidentally sent him a voice recording, how you laughed at your dumb little miss click, ending the recording with “oh well, hi” . And to him, you fit perfectly into his arms, the spaces between his fingers made for yours.

A devilish thought hit you, and so you ground once over his crotch and laughed when he broke the kiss with a loud grunt, almost pushing you straight off his lap. An action only hindered by your hands wrapped around his neck. He glared at you and shook his head. “Why not?”, you replied in a sultry teasing voice. He refused with his head and nodded to the open space behind you. “Oh, no one will notice us here.”, his face reddened up again. He kept vehemently indicating “ No. No sexy times in here. ” But you wouldn’t back down. Again, you ground on him, causing him to groan and move his hands to your hips. You attacked his lips, hungry to taste his moans as you moved over his growing erection. After another hard grind, Tommy grabbed your hips hard and took control, Slowly moving you over his crotch while you ate up every sound he made. It didn’t take long for you both to end up in a frenzied dry humping session. At some point his hand had found its way up under your top, lightly pinching a nipple between his fingers. The barn was filled with grunts and heavy moans from the both of you, but a sudden high noise startled you. Your movements stopped. You turned to look towards where the sound had come from, both of you silently listening for more noises while Tommy reached for his mask and buckled it back on over his head.

A bang. And a scream .

Thomas was fast up on his feet, basically throwing you off his lap and bolting towards the house.

The scream belonged to mama.

Inside, Tommy was met by the frightened stare from a woman he had never seen before, something that wasn’t uncommon and Thomas figured she was one of Hoyt’s hookers. The drunk idiot had probably slipped up: he either accidentally told the woman what really goes on in this house, or she snuck off after he had passed out and ended up finding the basement. And so, that woman was holding his mama hostage with what looked like one of Charlie’s guns. She was terrified. Thomas' chest was heaving as he glued his eyes on the gun.

“Drop the gun, hun. And nothin’ is gonna happen to ya.”, Luda’s voice was calm, but Thomas could hear the faint undertone of fear in her voice. She’s terrified but refuses to show anything. ”L-let me go! A-and I won’t call the cops!”. When the woman spoke his eyes snapped to her, so Thomas took one step forward, but she quickly pressed the gun into mama’s temple, making him stop with a muffled growl. "S-stop! Or I'll… I'll do it!", he remained still, opting to look at his mother as she explained the situation with only two words. “She knows, Tommy.”, Luda Mae flinched as the stranger behind her scoffed and pressed the gun even harder into her temple. But her face was locked in neutrality, and he couldn’t help but admire the strongest woman he’s ever known. “Yeah! I-I know! Fucking crazy, inbred psychos…”, she hissed

Thomas raised a hand, spelling out;

'H' 'o' 'y' 't'

His eyes flickered down to her finger doing an upwards motion to the floor upstairs.

Fucking asshole

Was all Tommy could think before the poor woman’s eyes suddenly shot open in shock. Blood bubbled up from her mouth and she sputtered, covering mama's right cheek in crimson. The hand holding the gun fell to her side, and as it did, Tommy made an act at lightning speed to pull mama behind him. He just stared as he saw… you. He saw you pulling the knife out of the hooker's throat. You'd stabbed her. Straight into the jugular, and as she went down he followed her before shifting his eyes to you as you wiped a bit of blood off your cheek. Your face was unreadable. He wasn’t sure what kind of emotions you were conveying at that moment. Fear? Disgust? Anger? Sadness? He didn’t know. But the hand holding the knife was shaking, almost to the point where it would vibrate out of your palm. He listened to your raggedy breaths coming out in sobs before you suddenly dropped the weapon, then leaned over the sink and threw up.

The sound of rushing water echoes on the upper floor where you’re furiously scrubbing your hands while hyperventilating, hands shaking badly as you do. Your thoughts are in a whirlwind, trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’d killed someone. And knowing what will happen to her body now, that she won’t have a peaceful burial in a beautiful grove or surrounded by her family, makes you nauseous. You had essentially just handed them dinner.

Suddenly, your airways tightened and you couldn’t breathe, the room was too small, too hot. And with a bang, you slammed the water off and ran through the house, ignoring the angry voices that yelled after you as you shut the back door. You don’t care. You need air, now . Outside, you pressed your back against the tree that you early on shared with Thomas, before sliding down it as you feel air returning to your lungs. All you did was breathe for a few minutes, focusing on returning to your senses while staring up into the night sky, counting the stars. As you did, your mind wandered back to your apartment far away from here. Patting your pocket, you smiled slightly as you felt you had your phone with you, and pulled it up. You replied to a few text messages, answered the occasional neglected work emails, and finally opened the gallery app.

Looking through it you realized just how much you actually missed it. It was your home after all. You even missed those neighbors who always had loud hangouts, that old lady who seemed to have more plants than her balcony could fit, and then there was that old divorced man and his cat. That… stupid cat who always forgot where it lived and had ended up in your apartment too many times to count. “Dumbass cat…”, you mumbled as you remembered the first few times it had startled you when you got out of the shower or got home from work and suddenly there was a cat laying on your couch.

Then it hit you.

I should call mom and dad.

Before scrolling through your contacts to find your mom's phone number, you looked at the setting sun and sighed, while figuring out what to tell her exactly, but hoping it would go to voicemail. You took a deep breath as you pressed the green phone symbol. Each dial tone sounded heavier and heavier before you were finally connected to what you had hoped for, voicemail.

"Hey, mom.", you started, straining your voice to sound happy. "It’s me. I just wanted to talk to you, but it seems you're busy."

As usual…

"Uhm… I'm sorry, mom. For everything I've ever said.", you pulled a bit at a loose strand on your shorts, going quiet for a minute. "I love you. And I miss you. Please forgive me."

Ending the call quickly as you felt the telltale sign of tears start to emerge, you pushed your phone back into your pocket and brought your knees up to your chest. Hugging your legs you just sat there, with nothing in particular in mind as you leaned your head on your left knee and closed your eyes.

You didn’t remember actually falling asleep, but what you did remember was being enveloped in strong arms that carried you from a cold night's breeze into warmth, along with faint but angry voices spitting nasty words, and finally ending up laying on something soft. The familiar scent of Thomas’ skin invaded your nose as you nuzzled your face into his pillow. A soft hum escaped you as he laid the cover over you. The floor creaked, and you couldn't hide the tired smile tugging at your lips as the sound of a familiar sigh echoed around the room. Reaching your hand for the giant trying to sneak out, you beckoned him. "Tommy…", he turned. Looking at you from the doorway, his eyes flickered between you on the bed and your outstretched hand. "Come." At first, he shook his head. And turned again to let you sleep alone but stopped when he heard you ask for him again. "Please. I’m cold.", a lie. That's when he caved and closed the door before turning towards you. He loomed over you, his massive form shielding you from everything that went on in this house of terror. Carefully, you reached up behind his head, fingers gliding through his soft hair to search for the fastenings to his mask. Even if he’d had his mask off just hours ago, he seemed just as nervous as earlier when it came to you removing it.

But you loved him, even if he didn’t have a nose.

Tommy sighed in relief as he felt the mask leave his face, and though he still hated being without it, it always felt nice taking it off. He pressed his forehead against yours just to feel close, but couldn’t help to smile as your lips came close to his. "It's okay…", you whispered to him., your low voice sending shivers down his spine, and he nodded.

Looking down at you, he realized how much smaller than him you truly were. He knew his muscles would mean death to you if he ever were to lose control during encounters with trespassers. The mere thought of him not being able to distinguish you from any potential dinner victim and going berserk before you was something that scared him. Scared him to the point of sending a wave of anxiety through him. But now, it wasn’t time to hunt. You were here, laying under him on his dingy bed. The only ray of sunshine in the eternal night that was his cursed life. His heart swelled when he saw your smile as he leaned in to capture your lips with his own and he sighed softly as your hands returned to his hair to pull him closer to you. When he felt your tongue meet his, he hummed in appreciation.

Slowly, Thomas tested the waters. One of his hands slid over the side of your stomach under your tank top, feeling the softness of the skin before letting his hand travel down towards your thigh. He was nervous since he’d never taken initiative with a thing like that before. But you didn't stop him, so he continued. His hand reached your plump thigh, one firm delicious squeeze making you let out a pleased hum into his mouth, a sound he happily swallowed down. He wasn't exactly sure why, but you moaning against his mouth sent chills through his body, which made his cock tingle.

You giggled a bit when he suddenly wrapped the leg, which thigh he was in the middle of groping, around his waist, making it easier for him to snugly fit his hips between your legs. His mouth left yours, traveling down your jawline, his small gentle kisses turned into bigger open-mouthed ones as he got to your neck. Your breathing increased as you felt his tongue slowly drag over that one sensitive spot you had. His whole demeanor changed when you moved to get a better hold of his hair and pulled. As you did, he took your wrists and pinned your arms above your head in an iron grip, not leaving the spot on your neck that he seemed hell-bent leaving a mark on. He nipped at you to test your reaction. You gave him what he wanted and let out a quiet moan, a sound that made him buck his hips into the space between your legs. When he finally lifted his head to look at you, arousal raced through your body because of what you saw.

Normally blue eyes taken over by something dark, hungry, and almost… animalistic. The look his eyes held made need surge through you in a way you hadn’t meant for this to end in. You’d given Thomas a taste of pleasure, and all he wanted now was more. You could see it in those eyes. He wanted more, and he was going to take it. “Oh…”, was all you could say as he rose up, squeezing your wrists once and giving you a look that said, “ Try me. ”. He smirked as you looked at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. Letting your wrists go, his hands moved towards your breasts. A shuddering breath left your lips as his big hands cupped your plush skin, groping your mounds deliciously, before pulling your t-shirt up over them. One thumb came to run slow circles around one nipple, while he kissed his way to the other one. A low moan crept up your throat as you finally felt his tongue drag over the hardening bud.

You answered his action by slowly moving your hips, making your sex rub against his clothed erection. A shiver ran down your spine as you heard him groan against your breast at the friction given to him, a puff of hot air hitting your collarbone. Lifting his head, his eyes met yours, and you could see he was as turned on as you, stare glazed over by lust. "I need you.", you whispered out shakily as you moved your hips again. He smiled, and your heart melted.

Thomas moved his kissing down your body until the bed seemed to run out of length.

Only then did his fingers find the button on your jean shorts, clumsily unbuttoning them as he sat up. As soon as he'd gotten them open, they were thrown away, discarded on the floor somewhere. He took the previously broken leg of yours and put it on his corresponding shoulder, a hand running over it and leaving trails of kisses down to your knee. His other hand, not occupied with anything, found its place on your pubic mound. His thumb landed on your clit, a mischievous grin dancing on his lips as he pressed down firmly once on your sensitive spot. "Ah!", you jerked and he chuckled at your reaction. You just pouted at him before your face relaxed into pleasure, his thumb slowly rubbing in circles while his lips kissed your leg gently.

His digit traveled south and found its way inside your needy hole, the intrusion making you buck your hips to the best of your abilities as you groan. His eyes fixated on your face, the way your brows furrowed, your mouth slightly opened as a symphony of moans and gasps came from your lungs. He loved the sight and sounds you made, they only made him braver. Knowing he made you feel good, only him. That despite him being inexperienced, all his attempts bore fruit.

No matter how much his cock throbbed inside his jeans, or how warm he was starting to feel, he wanted to make you cum before him just like the first time. "T-Tom-Haah! Tommy, I'm-!", sweet sounds left your throat right before he stopped, grinning again as you shot him an annoyed look. "That's mean…", he chuckled in response and shook his head. Thomas suddenly lifted you up with no effort, replacing your body with his own as strong hands firmly grasped either side of your hips. And before you knew it, he had maneuvered you above him. His head takes a dive between your thighs, fingers wrapping around generous amounts of your rear and eyes glinting from below you as he dragged his tongue along the inside of one of your plush thighs, making you gasp. The closer he moved towards your aching cunt, the heavier you started breathing. But right as he was about to rub against you, he stopped. Again, you groaned. "Please stop teasing me, you ass.", you whined. One of his hands came into view and he slowly spelled out two words.

'B' 'e' 'g' 'm' 'e'

You silently did as you were told by sliding closer to his face, but all he did was grab your waist and lifted you away from him, shaking his head. That was not what he wanted. He wanted to hear you beg for him to eat you out. Your voice was low as you shakily gave him what he wanted; "T-Thomas, please. Please, please, please… eat me. " He smirked before slowly dragging his tongue through your folds. Relishing in your taste coating him, he hummed when he felt your thighs tremble against his arms as he held you tight, the countless videos he’d watched on various porn sites of this specific position running on a loop in his head. "Oh my God.", you said as you let your head fall back, a loud "Ah!" coming from you as he found your clit and flicked his tongue firmly against it, your hands coming to rest in his hair. The urge to rotate your hips hit you, though when trying it, you were met with a bruising grip on your hips and glaring blue eyes staring up at you. Silently daring you to move on your own accord, his glare told you that you were not in control. You whimpered at the sight but reluctantly stilled your hips.

You gasped as you noticed his tongue prod and tease your entrance, feeling how he moved it slowly, digging the strong muscle deeper into you.

Below you, Thomas found himself in heaven between your soft thighs as he pulled those sounds he loved hearing from your throat. Sounds he knew only he could cause. When he couldn’t hear them anymore, he only pulled you close to his face. And right there, right then, Thomas enjoyed having no nose, the absence helping him reach far into you. "Ah… To-!", your words are interrupted suddenly, your body jerking before tensing as he finds your clit again, sucking gently on it. "Fff-... Shi-.", you couldn’t form words as he alternated between sucking gingerly and massaging your nub with the flat of his strong muscle and moving his tongue in and out of you.

The coil tightened quickly, almost too quickly. Looking down, you met his eyes, glossed over with hunger and animalistic lust. His firm grip on your thighs kept you seated on his face when you were thrown over the edge in a cry, as he gave one hard suck over your clit. He moaned against you as you clamped your thighs shut around his head, lapping up your orgasm like he was actually starving. He then returned to slowly fuck you with his tongue to let you come down from your high. You panted as you looked down at him, fingers lightly scratching his scalp with a postorgasmic smile plastered on your lips. Thomas grinned as he licked your thigh to catch a stray strand of your arousal.

Shortly after you’d collapsed next to him on the bed, Tommy got up to finally take his own clothes off, his tank top sticky with sweat and the fly of his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against his raging erection. He let out a sigh of relief as his dick was finally released, the front of his boxers moist with precum. The bed dipped under his weight as he returned to position himself between your thighs again, letting your legs rest over his meaty ones. His hands gingerly went up and down your thighs, thumbs rubbing circles as he waited for your signal. His stare revealed his hesitation, wanting nothing more than to push himself into ecstasy, but not having the heart to take something he thinks he wasn’t allowed to. The last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. His cock throbbed as it lay on top of your mound, and his chest swelled with pride as he saw the evidence of how good his tongue had made you feel as he waited for your approval to take you. You reached down to gingerly take hold of his cock with your soft hands, your fingers rubbing over his sensitive head and coating him with his own arousal. A thumb lightly pressed on his silver barbell, eliciting a throaty groan from him as you looked up to meet his eyes. "Wanna fuck me, baby?", you asked in a sultry voice as you dragged your hands over his length. You saw how a shiver ran through his body as he nodded, instinctively bucking into your hands.

"Take me."

You gasped as his length pressed into your waiting entrance, and you arched off the bed when you felt him bury himself to the hilt in a swift, desperate motion. "Ohh… oh.. God…", you scrambled to find his arms, needing something to hold on to. Tommy breathed out a laugh before hissing in slight pain as he felt your nails dig into his arms. Even with the wetness from both your orgasm and his mouth, it's a stretch. So both of you needed a minute to adjust.

His breathing was hot over your face. An experimental thrust from him had him gritting his teeth, and you digging your nails deeper into his arms. Craning your neck, you got close to his face with a smile on your lips. "I'm fine, Tommy. Take me. " Upon hearing those words, he pressed his lips against yours, the taste of you still on him, just as his hips started to move. He lifted your legs up only to wrap them around his waist, and soon enough the movement of his hips began pummeling your insides. His cock hitting all those right places in your cunt that made you squirm and moan under him. Your mind went blank, not even trying to comprehend how he was able to so easily transform you from a rational being to only a mess of moans and limbs made off putty after only having sex two times. But not a single nerve in your body was complaining about the fact that he could. Incoherent sounds meant to resemble his name tumble from your throat inbetween loud moans. Down there, inside the room within the basement he was so used to dwelling, Tommy didn’t give two shits if his family heard you or not, he just needed to listen to every sound you made.

You yelped as he suddenly switched everything up. your legs were wrapped around his waist, making it easier to pull you up and onto his lap while he positioned himself on his knees. His cock buried deep into you as you clawed at his back, afraid you might float away if you don’t. His hands came to grope your ass, effortlessly holding you up as his strong arms moved you up and down his cock. The wet smacking sound of your soaking thighs hitting his echoed around the room, only adding to your arousal. His movements were deep and hard, hot moans brushing against your neck as he found your sensitive spot and lightly bit down on it. A loud grunt surged from his throat when he felt your cunt clench hard around him as a result from his biting.

He shifted again, pulling his cock out of you to turn you around and prop you on all fours, a position that gave him a perfect view of your ass and the way his dick stretched your pussy out as he re-entered you. Another shiver ran through his spine as a new kind of deeper moan comes from your throat. His large hands gripped your hips to make it easier for him to pull you onto his dick in rhythm with his thrusting. Your moans were muffled by his pillow as tears of pleasure streamed down your face. Your ears managed to capture the occasional deep baritone of “shit”s and “fuck”s coming from above you, causing your eyes to roll back into your skull.

You let out a whine as you felt a hand snake itself south and a pair of big fingers find your clit. His movements were fast, clumsy and almost desperate as he rubbed your most sensitive spot. The added pleasure making it so the coil in your lower belly tightened much faster. As Tommy leaned over you, you were pressed deeper into the mattress when he propped himself up on the hand not occupied with rubbing tight circles around your nerve bundle. A heavy puff of air coming from him made your hair billow exposing the ear he was looking for. His voice was strained and raspy when grunts and moans tumbled from his throat as he felt your walls clench around him.

He swallowed thickly, desperate to wet his parched throat before uttering one single word into your ear, a demand.

“ Cum.”

The delicious combination of his cock pumping in and out of you and his fingers massaging your clit gave you only seconds to fulfill his demand. The orgasm that washed over you was strong enough to make you scream into the pillow as you clamp down on his cock, your hands desperately trying to grab onto the mattress. Above you, Thomas let out a heavy moan that vibrated against your back as he felt the increasing tightness around him, his own orgasm quickly closing in. Four more hard thrusts into your then battered pussy had him gasping, the hand supporting him pressing into the mattress hard enough for his knuckles to turn white before cumming deep inside you. A satisfied hum came from you as you felt his dick twitch and pump his thick seed inside you, delightfully filling you up.

Thomas hissed as he pulled himself out of your throbbing core, then collapsed next to you with huffs and heaves surging from his tired lungs. You slowly slid your legs down to lay flat on your stomach and turned your head to look at him beside you. He had his eyes closed while running a hand through his sweaty brow, trying to catch his breath. You smiled at him and brought your right hand close to his face to stroke his cheek with your index finger. “Hey…”, you whispered, getting close to kiss the scars on his cheek before pressing your forehead to his temple. He hummed in response, signaling that he was listening to you before you continue; “ I think I love you. ” His eyes shot open and he turned his head towards you, eyes filled to the brim with a combination of emotions as they seemed to search for something on your face. Doubt, maybe? Or ridicule? Lies? But all you do is nod and smile again.

One of his hands came up to the back of your head and entangled slightly in your hair as he pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft, full of emotions he either didn't want to say out loud or couldn't. But you knew what it meant.

"I love you too."

You snuggled up against him, taking his right arm between your own, giggling as you felt him stiffen slightly when you pushed it between your breasts. Your hand reached down to lace your fingers in his before letting sleep take you.

You were abruptly woken in the night by screaming voices and hard bangs on the floor above you. Thomas was equally startled awake, and sat up, breathing heavily as he carefully listened.

" Thomas!", you heard Hoyt's voice yelling for your beloved, who reacted quickly. But you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him back to you. "Tommy, don't… please .", you pleaded. He gave you a look you've never seen before. You felt small as if a beast was staring you down with a threatening look that said " Let. Me. Go. ". And it was at that moment you realized you weren’t talking to your Tommy anymore, which scared you. The Thomas you’d fallen asleep with just hours ago is gone. And the Butcher of Texas is all that was left. So you listened. You let go of his hand and watched him dress up, holding your breath to avoid starting a fire within him. And finally, your eyes followed him to the door.

Curling up under the covers again, the bitter realization hit you.

It was your chance to leave, to go back home. The family would be busy with trespassers for a few hours, Hoyt most likely harassing some poor woman, Thomas off to ki-... hunt.

Getting out of bed, you quickly threw your shorts on, internally thanking Tommy for never removing your t-shirt. Even if you knew this meant leaving him for good, the man you just hours ago confessed your love to, it also meant you would most likely live, and a normal life at that. Besides, you could always contact him through the phone, and that thought made it easier for you to sneak up the basement stairs. The sliding door was heavy and screeched as you pushed it open. You heard Thomas' chainsaw roaring from somewhere close by, along with Hoyt's encouraging howls and a blood-curdling scream. You felt nauseous and wanted to puke as you knew what was going on, but tried to cast those thoughts aside while you walked on your path to freedom.

You hurried across the old dining room, but probably due to the fear-fueled trembling of your legs, you curse as you trip over your own feet, attempting to swerve around a puddle of blood. Hissing, you rub the knee that took the brunt of the fall. And when your eyes start to look around for any threats, you see him.

Hoyt. The last person you wished bore witness to your endeavor.

Your fall had seemingly alerted him of your presence. As you stood, you kept your eyes locked on him before noticing the sharp pair of scissors laying on a small side table. And upon grabbing them, you taunt him, adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Come on, old man. You’ve wanted to kill me since I got here!" Before you knew it he was on you. The man knocked you to the floor and straddled your waist while pinning your arms above your head. "He ain't here no more to protect ya, bitch.", he licked his lips as you struggled to get him off you. Seeing him lean in close, you took the opportunity to bash his nose in with your own head, causing him to release your arms to grab it as it gushed out blood. You pushed him off you, straddling him instead. Breathing heavily, you grabbed the scissors in both hands and raised them above you, stretching your entire body to get as much power in your killing blow as possible.

Hoyt grinned as he looked up at you preparing yourself, his tongue reaching out to catch fat drops of crimson dripping from his nose.

Your blood ran cold as ice as a giant shadow fell over you. "To-", a huge hand gripped the main hand holding the scissors. His grasp was tight and you winced as a sickening crunch rings out of your joints before the sharp pain hits you. And you screamed, dropping the scissors. The pain was excruciating as Thomas forcefully lifted you up from his uncle and threw you into a nearby corner. You clutched your broken wrist close to your chest and cried as you watched the predator that has taken over your beloved Thomas slowly walk towards you. Both hands moved to grip his chainsaw. Your breathing started picking up, your heart rate going too many miles per hour and the rushing of blood deafening in your ears.

"Tom- Tommy, please. It’s me!", you pleaded as you saw him pull on the snare to start his weapon. "No… no no no!", behind Thomas you saw Hoyt standing up, hollering words of encouragement to him. "Fucking get her, Thomas!", you shook your head as you sobbed violently, berating yourself. Why did you think trying to kill Hoyt was a good idea? He was Thomas’ family, after all, something you weren’t. Something you would never be.

He pulled the string once, and the saw sputtered, then died. He pulled it again, the same result. He growled and pulled it a third time before realizing it had run out of gas, something you took as a chance to run away. But before you knew it, he'd grasped you by the throat, lifting you up against the wall. You cried out as his grip tightened, your good hand scrambling to grab his wrists in an effort to break free.

"Tommy… p- pleas- hck", he clamped your throat shut, interrupting your begging. Your vision started to blur as the air became sparse, and your nails dug into his arm in a desperate attempt to get Tommy back. Your lungs hurt, your brain was in a blur and your vision started to fade. You focused the last remaining strength you had to look at Tommy in the eyes, his usual sky blue irises now taken over by darkness. Hidden behind sweaty hair and the face of someone else. The last air in your lungs is spent on three words.

" I love you."

Crack.

Thomas watched as the dinner guest fell limp against the wall.

"Good job, boy.", Hoyt patted his shoulder blade. Thomas just grunted and threw the body over his shoulder to head back into the basement to finish his work. This was one of three bodies he had to cut up and he sighed as he knew he wouldn't get any sleep the remaining hours of the night. He grunted as he hung two of them up, saving the freshest one for last since that body hadn't been waiting for as long.

Heavy sighs came from him as he finished preparing to cut up the last body. All he wanted was to get back into bed with you and sleep the remaining hours. The last body was small, something he greatly appreciated because that meant sleep was imminent. Thomas removed his mask after he laid the dead cattle on his table as sweat started to pool and stream down his neck. Lumbering over to a bucket of water, he splashed water over his face to cool down.

When he turned back; his heart stopped, blood turning to ice and nausea rolling over him in big waves before he rushed over to the table. This wasn't a dinner guest or cattle. It… "No…" , he was shaking badly as he put a heavy palm on your cheek. A lump formed in his throat as he looked over your body, running his eyes up and down it, making sure there was no mistake, that he wasn’t hallucinating. You were just here moments ago. With him. Happy. Alive. He pressed two fingers at your neck, searching for a pulse. Tommy panicked when he saw the bruising on your flesh. He'd killed you. In the middle of hunting trespassers. The last thing he remembered from his killing spree was walking into the… the old dining room… and seeing someone sit on top of Hoyt threatening him with something sharp. And then there you were, an unmoving corpse resting before him, right on the same table he had sworn not to put you back on. He couldn’t remember anything else, couldn’t remember even seeing you up on the main floor.

How did all this happen?

But what he did know was that there was no going back. Nothing could bring you back now. He took one of your hands in his while mumbling desperate prayers that you weren’t gone. You were just asleep, and he wanted you to wake up. " Please, wake up..." , he sobbed. You were cold, so cold. Nothing like he remembered you just hours ago. When you'd hugged his arm before falling asleep, your fingers intertwined with his, your breathing even against his shoulder. You were warm then.

Not like the unmoving figure you had become. And he let himself cry, something he hadn’t done in so many years, his eyes burned, another punishment for ending your life. Stroking your cheek, he turned your head so you were facing him. His thumb traced your bottom lip as he thought back on the last kiss he gave you. Tommy has never cried for another person as he did now. You were the first one outside of his family that had shown him tenderness, that felt like home. The first one to show him, love. His rage took you away from him, something he had feared deeply since you set foot in his basement. You were supposed to be his forever. His wife. The mother of his children.

Pressing his forehead to yours, he whispered the words he never got to say earlier. " I love you too."

#Can I See You #CICU #thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #thomas hewitt fanfiction #tcm: the beginning #tcm #tcm fanfiction #modern!thomas #ninno og #it's the actual ending #only the epilogue is left now #god i hope you'll like it and i'm so sorry

93 notes · View notes

obstinaterixatrix · 2 years

Text

2021 fic retrospective

yeah I'll reveal the paper mask. if you reference the relevant fics in any way other than a 500 word essay about how great they are I'll block you. 11 fics, technically... 53k? ish? but about half of that was through cowriting (lol)

2/6

“I can’t stay” and other lies to tell, ORV, 2.5k

Han Sooyoung adjusts to post-epilogue life.

this one gave me such a huge headache... but I really like it! fulfilled my goal of having ysa punch out hsy (romantically) which is the only thing that matters. I love writing hsy and ysa but they're both smart and well-read in exactly the way I'm not so It's A Struggle. I have to put so so much effort into having like... one of those hollywood western sets. flat storefronts propped up to mimic the impression of a whole-ass town. that's me trying to write these gals.

2/21

a home to keep (out of reach), Kamen Rider W, 1k

While on the run from the museum, Wakana runs into Akiko.

oh the femslash life of writing an obscure ship from obscure(-ish) source material that aired over ten years ago. this has less than 20 kudos and I'm surprised I even hit that high. if I remember right I was in a mood of 'I need to write more gals and don't have specific ideas, someone give me some' and thankfully my friends obliged. Love You Buds!

2/27

being known, being loved, and other disasters you’ll never recover from, ORV, 2.5k

“Use your words” was supposed to be a thoughtless taunt; Kim Dokja wasn’t expecting to get a monologue.

this one's great. 10/10. utter genius. well actually I wish someone else wrote it and could dig into all of the complex ideas I couldn't quite grasp and it's terrible and I hate it. so it goes with this kinda thing. regardless, it 100% would not have been as good as it was (or wasn't?) if racher didn't let me call her at my 2am and talk with me for like two hours as I wailed and wept through the 4th scene. thanks racher <3

3/18

two sides, same coin, SVS3, 2k

With this, Mobei Jun can finally rest reassured that their relationship is plagued by no lingering ambiguity.

At all.

None whatsoever.

technically I wrote this fic last year and thought it was finished, but was struck by a brief bout of inspiration (and/or madness)

5/12

going nowhere // gone nowhere, Infinity Train, 23k

Two versions of a reunion without the train.

Side A: Ryan gets a call from the Parks and rushes back to Min-Gi.

Side B: Min-Gi doesn't get a call from Ryan but rushes to him anyway.

lmaaaoooooo I love cowriting fic. I have nothing but fondness for this one. if this fic were a living creature I would dote endlessly upon it. what started as a direct and targeted attack against lex got turned around on me and suddenly We Were Both In It... Together. 10/10, fantastic cowriting experience, lex expanded on a lot that I would've glossed over and really nailed a lot of solid vibes. I had a lot of fun breaking ryan's leg. speaking of, also big thanks to kly for the med reference (lol)

6/6

actually, that was a load-bearing wall, Persona 5, 2.3k

Makoto: Ryuji, how did you get injured? Is there anything we can do? Yusuke: He did not. Makoto: …Wait, why is Yusuke with you at the hospital?

sundry wrote all this, I just edited & spruced it up by making the texting segment look ✨phenomenal✨ (and after it was a prompt for me to write too, lol).

7/28

dreams not to keep, Infinity Train, 2.5k

Min-Gi has a weird stress dream about working at Dumpty's, one that is definitely meaningless and has nothing to do with complicated feelings that don't exist.

If I'm being transparent I had this vaguely drafted without any real intention of finishing it, then saw a dead dove fic in the tag that I found personally rancid, so I finished it out of spite just to bump it down. anyway I love dream sequences and psychological torment. this is a concept that was inspired by air and that I also drew to specifically antagonize lex (lol)

9/20

a door closed to light, Deltarune, 1k

There’s no good reason for Susie, of all people, to be barging into Noelle’s room. And it makes no sense why she’s the one who ends up doing it; Kris is the childhood friend—which makes them the obvious choice for a stupidly sappy rescue—and Ralsei’s like… basically one of those baby blankets, the kind with a dumb fluffy stuffed animal attached. So shouldn’t he jump at the chance to make friends or be a goody-goody or whatever?

I was actually visiting a friend when deltarune chapter 2 dropped and carved out time to finish it. I always knew noelle and susie would have more Solid Vibes when the game progressed, and I was right! the vibes are solid! thank you toby fox for being the number one lesbian ally that exists. but also since I was rushing so much I ended up missing a great opportunity for a joke and had to rush to change the ending (rip).

10/8

the unnamed ember that burns in your chest, SVS3, 1.5k

Mobei Jun takes a nap on Shang Qinghua’s bed and pines to a truly intolerable degree.

do you understand how agonizing it was for me to have a paper mask account that I wouldn't let myself reference at all AND YET I kept coming up with titles that absolutely slapped. are you kidding me. this was so goddamn romantic. fuck.

10/22

the rays of the protagonist’s golden halo don’t shine on us lowly side characters, so how about easing up on the collateral damage (you bastard), SVS3, 2k

Shang Qinghua and Shen Qingqiu have a fight after Mobei Jun gets injured while helping the protagonist (who, let’s be honest, would’ve been fine no matter what).

DO YOU UNDERSTAND. HOW AGONIZING IT WAS. FOR ME TO HAVE A PAPER MASK ACCOUNT I WOULDN'T LET MYSELF REFERENCE AT ALL. AND YET. I KEPT COMING UP WITH TITLES THAT ABSOLUTELY SLAPPED. I'm absolutely entranced by my own unrecognized genius. anyway this was fun I love writing petty squabbles and asshole friendships lol

12/30

as it turns out, dying isn’t the romantic gesture you might think it is, SVS3, 15k

Shang Qinghua wasn’t a protagonist. He was barely even a side character. The sum total of his dialogue never surpassed ten lines, which puts him just above cannon fodder. His death, sudden but not unexpected, was less than a paragraph in the epic of Luo Binghe:

The conspicuous absence of the man who could be considered Mobei Jun’s shadow was then explained to Luo Binghe. Just days ago, Shang Qinghua—whether by accident or a final act of loyalty—took a fatal blow meant for Mobei Jun. Scarcely did he have the time to draw a single breath before succumbing to poison potent enough to fell a great demon on the verge of becoming king.

In his previous life as a reader, Mobei Jun didn’t have any reason to pay him much attention.

Things are different now.

BLAH BLAH BLAH TITLES THAT ABSOLUTELY FUCKING SLAPPED YOU KNOW THE DRILL anyway this is literally the longest solo project I've written in years, usually you can't get me over 5k without my corpse being dragged by someone else. I'm a 2k oneshot kinda gal! I hate writing longform! it's so much work! so much effort! and yet! this fic drove me absolutely fucking bonkers and would not let me rest until it was exorcised. it has the most vibes per vibe out of all my fics. it's my magnum opus. and it's quarantined to paper mask account because if I ever acknowledge it, it becomes agonizingly obvious that nfsftlots was me going like 'haha so this is what I think a mo/shang roleswap would be. wait a second I could make them lesbians. wait a second I could make them lesbian ocs. wait a second I've written a novella.' anyway the last chapter of this fic was what I consider 8k of absolute madness. I'm spilling my guts here. I am relentlessly shaking your shoulder. can you even begin to understand what this story has done to me. I am narcissus at the pond absolutely enthralled by myself. this is the exact type of confession I love to read. you can make some pretty obvious parallels to how I'm acting now and a certain character in the fic and you'd be right to but you cannot mention this to my face.

#writing ramble #fic retrospective

8 notes · View notes

noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

Text

Negotiations - Part 2/2 (LokixOC)

Asgard is under attack from Jotenheim, Thor must defend his home, his people and his queen. But not all is what it seems.This is part of a new series of shorts/one shots. This series features a bunch of different Loki variants/timelines.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. It really helps me out as a writer, lemme know if you wanna be on the taglist as well :)

Warnings: Smut, Sex, Vaginal sex, Technical monster kink, Size difference, Size kink, Vaginal fingering, Oral sex, Dirty talk, Slight possessive Loki, Language

Loki

6 Months ago

My second in command announced the arrival of Asgard’s queen, Raven Odinson. Of course, she was flanked by a large handful of guards, who were all on edge. Raven herself, however, seemed calm, composed. How a queen should be. She was wrapped in an assortment of furs to fight off the cold, whilst her hair had been braided intricately with feathers adorning her brunette locks. Raven smiled kindly and bowed her head in respect. “Your majesty, thank you for agreeing to meet with me so that we may negotiate. You mentioned there was something within the peace treaty that you didn’t approve,” Raven spoke.

“Such a matter should be discussed in private,” I replied, rising from my throne. “Of course.” Raven’s personal guard seemed weary to let her go off alone with me. But after a few reassuring words, they let her go. Raven followed me through the halls until we reached a room far out of earshot, a room we wouldn’t be disturbed. Once I had closed the door behind her, I couldn’t help myself any longer and kissed her hungrily. Raven smiled into the kiss at my eagerness. “I long for the day that we never have to be apart again, my love,” I murmured.

Our affair had been going on for a little over six months now, sometimes meeting in secret, other times Raven used the excuse of negotiations. We didn’t get to see each other as often as we wanted, but we had to be cautious. Raven removed her fur’s revealing the fine lavender silk gown beneath it, every inch of the dress hugging her figure perfectly. It was taking all of my self-control not to tear it from her. “How much time do we have?” I asked. “I can be delayed a little.”

With that, I picked Raven up and placed her down on the nearest table. Her slender legs wrapped around my waist to pull me closer as I leaned down to kiss her once more. Her hands touched and caressed my skin, her fingers tracing the darker blue lines across my chest and down to my navel. But it wasn’t enough, I need more of her, more of her touch, her warmth. Her hot tongue worked against mine, moaning softly into my mouth as my large hands cupped her breasts. Her nipples were already hard and poking through the silk, whether that be from the cold or her arousal, I couldn’t tell.

“I need to taste you again,” I husked against the shell of her ear. “Mmm I have missed that silver tongue of yours.” Helping Raven out of the dress, I exhaled deeply at the sight of her naked form, my cock throbbing with arousal. It was already fully hard and aching to be freed, aching to feel her tight walls tremble around it. Gently pushing Raven to lay back, my lips trailed down her neck to her chest. My tongue lapped and sucked at her hardened nipples, groaning against her warm flesh. Raven gasped at the sensation, her back arching and pressing her breasts further into my mouth.

One of my large fingers traced her plush pink lips, Raven’s tongue darting out to catch it. Preparation was necessary. Raven took the digit in her mouth, sucking on it as if it were my cock. My cock throbbed again, my grip on self-control starting to slip. It had been too long since I had last had her, and patience was not something I possessed much of. Raven took a second finger in her mouth before a third and final finger, her lips stretched around them. Pulling away, I sunk to my knees before her. Gripping her thighs, I spread her legs wider now, face to face with her wet cunt.

Her hips bucked with anticipation as I kissed across her mound with a soft smirk. She was already so needy for me, so desperate, so wet. “Loki, please,” she whined. A sense of smug pride filled me, knowing she didn’t beg for her husband like this. He probably couldn’t even make her feel as good as I did. My tongue caressed her small bundle of nerves, forcing soft moans from her. Slowly I pushed a finger into her tightness, savouring every sound she made for me. Raven fisted my hair as I continued to eat her like a man starved. Her taste was something so divine that I craved it day and night, something that once I had, I would always long for more.

I could spend hours worshipping her like this, greedily accepting every drop of nectar I coaxed from her. Her body had opened enough for me to add a second finger, her walls stretching around my thick digits. Raven’s back arched as I curled my fingers inside of her, her moans muffled by her own hand covering her mouth. Whilst we were a safe distance away, there was always still that risk of being caught. And the thrill of how long we could keep this forbidden love a secret. I alternated between sucking on her clit or flicking my tongue across it, her thighs starting to twitch as her pleasure continued to grow.

Finally, I added a third finger, now working to make her cum. Her grip on my hair had gotten tighter, her body tense as her orgasm approached. My name fell from her lips more frequently, her walls starting to clench around my fingers. Raven gasped loud as the first wave of her orgasm hit her before crying out her pleasure, her thighs shaking from the intensity. I only stopped when overstimulation set in. Gently, I removed my fingers and leaned over her to kiss her.

“I’m going to make you mine again, and I won’t stop until your cunt takes the shape of my cock,” I promised. Raven bit her lip at my words, pulling me closer and wrapping her legs around my waist, “nobody else can make me feel as full as you, my king. Please fill me again.” Taking my cock in my hand, I rubbed the head teasingly against her wetness. “Do you ache for it? Is my cock the only thing that can satisfy your ache now?” I asked. She nodded, shuddering at the coldness of my flesh teasing her clit. Tired of waiting, I slowly began to push into her, taking my time and making sure I wasn’t hurting her.

Raven gripping my arms, her nails biting into my flesh as I sunk into her. I held her hips, groaning at the feel of her wrapped around me once more. Once buried inside her completely, I waited, giving her more time to adjust to my size, even with the prep I had given her. Raven pulled me down for another kiss before telling me she was ready. My movements were slow at first, Raven gasping and whining with every push and pull of my cock inside her. The heat of her body was addicting, something I hadn’t realized how much I had longed for until we had first met.

Her moans grew louder as I sped up the pace. Gripping her hips, I held her in place as she took every inch of me. She covered her mouth once again to quieten her moans and gasps. “I long for the day you can scream for me, have everyone know who makes their queen feel so good,” I growled against her neck, “you are mine.” She nodded in agreement, unable to form coherent words only muffled whimpers and cries of pleasure. I pulled her hand away, kissing her hungrily and swallowing her moans. “You take me so well, my queen,” I praised.

Reaching between us, my thumb rubbed her clit in circles. I wanted to see her come undone for me, there was no sight more beautiful in all the realms. “Cum, cum for your king,” I encouraged. Quickly Raven reached her second orgasm, her mouth hanging open in a silent scream as the pleasure completely wracked her body. The feel of her walls tightening around my cock triggered my own orgasm, cursing and growling against her neck as I filled her with my seed. Using the last of my strength, I picked her up and sat down with her, straddling me so we could rest in each other’s arms.

We sat in a comfortable silence for a little while, enjoying the feel of our skin on skin. The moment was tender, perfect even. But I knew it couldn’t last, we’d ‘negotiated’ long enough and the last thing we needed was one of her guards coming to look for us. Reluctantly, I let her go so she could redress. I did the same, before righting one of her braids that had come loose. Raven cupped my cheek and stood on her tiptoes to kiss me. “Not much longer, my king. Soon you’ll have the throne, Asgard and me.”

Taglist: @dreamscapehaven, @jana-banana-fana

#loki #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic #Loki Angst #loki feels #loki fluff #loki smut #loki AU #LokixOc #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #Marvel AU #marvel fanfiction #marvel feels #marvel fluff #marvel smut #marvel angst

24 notes · View notes

ouyangzizhensdad · 4 years

Text

On the importance of MianMian: musings on the differences between the novel and CQL (PART 2/2)

If you haven’t already, please read through part one first, otherwise this will probably not be very cohesive or comprehensible. There is also some bonus meta because I keep having thoughts about MianMian.

In part one, I contrasted MianMian’s first appearance in the novel and the web series in order to show how MianMian’s characterisation and position within her society were established quite differently in both works. In this post, I will explore the domino effect of those adaptation choices, as well as consider how the two subsequent appearances of MianMian in the novel got translated into a visual format in CQL. Through this exercise, my goal is not only to illuminate the depth and significance of this minor character in the novel, but also to argue that the way her scenes were adapted in CQL ultimately reduced the impact of the character and excised many of the nuances put into her portrayal despite increasing her presence in the work.

(although kudos to CQL for casting Ann Wang because I do not get tired of looking at her face: look at that smile 😳)

The Servant’s Daughter Valued Jin Cultivator Standing up to a Room of Powerful Cultivators

In the novel, we meet MianMian for a second time after the Sunshot campaign has ended. Cultivators from the main sects and allied sects (including some who used to be loyal to the Wens!) are discussing at Jinlintai Wei Wuxian’s actions after he protected the Wens and set up residence on Mass Grave Hill. By that time, it appears her position in her sect, and even her sect’s position, has grown. We can speculate as to why (my personal take is that MianMian proved herself during the war and that her sect is one of the sect who pledged loyalty to the Jin and gained influence as a result). What is important is that she goes from someone who is so inconsequential she might have not even have been a disciple yet when we met her to someone who stands next to a sect leader (who we can safely assume in this context to be her sect leader). A lot is hinted about her character and what she experienced since we last saw her through that small and innocuous detail.

Suddenly, a careful voice interjected, “It’s not killing indiscriminately, is it?”

Lan Wangji seemed to have entered a realm of zen that blocked all of his senses. Hearing this, however, he moved, looking over. The one who spoke was a young woman with a fair face, standing beside one of the sect leaders.

I will not repeat here the entirety of her speech, which highlights the hypocrisy and the bad faith of the sects, and particularly the Jin sect’s unwillingness to shoulder any blame for their deplorable treatment of the Wens. Instead, I find important to highlight how the other cultivators present react to MianMian based on her positionality.

First, MianMian’s opinions are undercut by the people present due to the fact that she is a woman. Her motivations for speaking out are reduced to the irrational ramblings of a maiden in love.

“You can stop arguing,” someone sneered suddenly. “We don’t want to hear the comments of someone who has other motives.”

The woman’s face flushed.

“Explain things,” she said, raising her voice. “What do you mean, that I have other motives?”

“There’s no need for me to say anything. You know deep down and we know too. You fell for him back in the cave of the Xuanwu just because he flirted with you? You’re still arguing for him, calling white black no matter how irrational it is. Ha, women will always be women.”

The incident of Wei Wuxian saving a damsel in distress in the cave of the Xuanwu was indeed once a topic of conversation. Thus, many people realized immediately that this young woman was ‘MianMian’.

At once, somebody murmured, “So that’s why. Explains how she’s so desperate as to speak up for Wei Wuxian…”

“Irrational?” she fumed. “Calling white black? I’m just being considerate as it stands. What does it have to do with the fact that I’m a woman? You can’t be rational with me so you’re attacking me with other things?”

Then, when members of her own sect disparage her for speaking up, they suggest that her place in the discussion, in this palace of gilded power and privilege, is ultimately illegitimate or at the very least incredibly easy to render illegitimate.

“Stop wasting your time on her. That this kind of person actually belongs to our sect, that she was even able to find her way into the Golden Pavilion; I feel ashamed standing alongside her.

Many of those who spoke against her were from the same sect.

In this situation, not even her fellow sect members are willing to come to her defense or to give her the benefit of the doubt; she is to be shamed and separated from them, lest her actions reflect badly on their own standing.

MianMian’s choice to leave her sect behind is meaningful because she is not privileged. She does not have anyone powerful in her corner to back her up. She does not have many options; people act like she should be glad to even have made it this far, and we can infer that she only achieved her current position due to her skills and hard work. It is also meaningful because she is making that choice while knowing that she’s giving up on the privileges of the social position that she has worked to achieve. The fact that she is giving up on something big is highlighted by the reactions of many cultivators after her departure, who think she will come crawling back to find once more the security and privilege of the position she left behind.

Saying nothing, MianMian turned around and left. A while later, someone laughed. “If you’re taking it off, then don’t put it on again, if you’re so capable!”

“Who does she think she is… leaving as she pleases? Who cares? What is she trying to prove?”

Soon, some began to agree, “Women will always be women. They quit just after you say a few harsh words. She’ll definitely come back on her own, a couple of days later.”

“There’s no doubt. After all, she finally managed to turn from the daughter of a servant to a disciple, haha…”

Beyond what it means for her characterisation and the themes explored in the novel, this moment is significant because there are clear parallels between how she is treated in that moment and how WWX is talked about for protecting the Wen remnants and, later, for ‘deserting’ the Jiang sect. In fact, just before MianMian speaks out, sect leaders call WWX a “servant” and the “son of a servant” when underlying the ‘nerve’ of his ‘arrogance’ toward the sects with his actions.

One of the sect leaders added, “To be honest, I’ve wanted to say this since a long time ago. Although Wei Wuxian did a few things during the Sunshot Campaign, there are many guest cultivators who did more than him. I’ve never seen anyone as full of themselves as him. Excuse my bluntness, but he’s the son of a servant. How could the son of a servant be so arrogant?”

These passages are also reminiscent of the way WWX is discussed by cultivators celebrating his death in the prologue:

“That’s right, good riddance! If the YunmengJiang sect had not adopted him, educated him—this Wei Ying would have been a mediocre scoundrel all his life, nothing but riffraff…… what else could he be! The former head of the Jiang clan treated him as his own son, but what a son! [...]”

“I can’t believe Jiang Cheng really let this arrogant manservant live for so long. If it were me, when this Wei first defected, I wouldn’t have just stabbed him; I’d have cleaned house straight away. Then he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to commit all those deranged acts later. When it comes to these sorts of people, how can you even take sentiments like ‘same clan’, ‘same sect’, or ‘childhood loyalty’ into consideration?”

Due to the circumstances of their birth, even people who manage to achieve a higher position in society hold a tenuous grasp on the power and respect they have gained: their legitimacy is fraught. And even if they play the game right, the lines of legitimate belonging are always ready to be renegotiated by those in power. Despite the “few things” he did during the Sunshot Campaign that aligned with the interest of the sects, and despite being raised among the gentry in the Jiang sect and being perceived as a gongzi, WWX remains in the imaginary of the cultivators who see themselves as the legitimate holders of power as someone who needs to “remember his place”, someone who should be grateful and loyal as he has been “allowed” to raise in influence and be treated well in society despite being the son of a servant. And so when he stands against the interests of the sects, he’s not just betraying them: he betraying the social order which gives them legitimacy. This is directly tied to MianMian’s treatment in this scene. In the novel, MianMian is not only shamed and dismissed because she speaks out against the sects: it is also, if not primarily, because she did not, in the process, “remember her place”.

The scene as it is presented in the novel thus goes out of its way to set up a clear parallel between WWX and MianMian, not only in regards to their righteousness, but also in regards to how they are perceived and treated for being the children of servants. It also takes pain to underline the unfair treatment of women in that society. Moreover, if we’re only considering MianMian’s characterisation, it says a lot to see her have reached this level of importance in her sect despite her circumstances and then for her to let it all go.

In CQL? You’ve probably guessed it; all of these nuances are evacuated from the text. On top of the fact that MianMian continues to be established as a valued member of the Jin sect, the scene is cut short and a lot of the censure sent her way is excised. There are no mentions of her ‘having made her way’ into the room of powerful people who are allowed have an opinion on the state of the world. No mentions of her low social background and no mocking that she will crawl back to her sect after realising she can’t make it into the world without their influence and support. No dismissal of her based on the fact that she is a woman, or suggestions that she is standing up for the YLLZ only because she is enamoured with him. The scene is turned into a pale shadow of its original.

Instead of these elements, we do get a gasp from JZX (which becomes a dangling plot thread because he does not stand up for her nor does he reach out for her even though she’s supposed to be his good friend, nor do we see him being conflicted about being unable to beyond his gasp) and MianMian telling JGS that she is leaving his sect, which I’ll admit is pretty baller. But it does not even come close to having the significance and thematic implications of the scene as presented in the novel. CQL!MianMian stands up against the organized smear campaign against WWX and the sects’ unwillingness to accept their faults, and is only disregarded for having spoken against them: not because of who she was while she was raising doubts about their evaluation of the right and wrong. And that is significant, because it undercuts the discussions the novel explores through so many other characters about the impacts of being considered inferior by others.

The Travelling Rogue Cultivator who Stayed Home

Finally, in the novel, we meet MianMian once more when her daughter, Xiao MianMian, stumbles upon something she should not have seen while accompanying her parents on a night-hunt. The reason their paths cross is that, just like Wangxian, MianMian feels compelled to pursue night-hunts other cultivators disregard for their lack of glory in order to help the common people. This is her life mission as a travelling rogue cultivator: differently put, she goes where the chaos is. This set-up serves to highlight that MianMian and Wangxian are like-minded and share the same definition of what it means to be ‘Righteous’.

He asked, “Did you come here to night-hunt as well?”

Luo Qingyang nodded, “Yes. I heard spirits are haunting a nameless graveyard on this mountain, disturbing the lives of the people here, so I came to see if there’s any way I could help. Have you two cleaned it up already?”

The night-hunt also serves to reintroduce the theme of deception and rumours, and the ways in which MianMian is a character who is not swayed by public opinions but knows how easily others may be.

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji exchanged a glance. “This was a lie too. No lives were lost. We looked it up. Only a few villagers who robbed the graves were bedridden for a while after being scared by the ghosts, and another broke his own leg when running away. Apart from these, there were no casualties. All those lives were made up for dramatic purposes.”

“So this was what happened?” interjected Luo Qingyang’s husband. “That’s absolutely shameless!”

“Oh, these people…” sighed Luo Qingyang. She seemed as if she remembered something, shaking her head, “They’re the same everywhere.”

This is because in the novel MianMian is tied to many themes, and always in a positive manner. Like WWX, she represents the good that is stifled by an unjust social order. She also represents the people who choose to defy and deviate from this social order to pursue a righteous life rather than trying to find vindication and power within that very social order (ie JGY or XY). Like the juniors, MianMian is a character that represents hope for the cultivation world, the potential for small but significant change. Like WWX and LWJ, she represents integrity in the face of the corrupting influences of power and politics, as well as the desire to protect the common people. Like Cangse Sanren, she represents the courage to make her own path in the world, and to marry for love with no considerations for social status or conventions, and the decision to becoming a travelling rogue cultivator.

On top of all these great things this scene accomplish, it is also just incredibly cute. After their talk, their parting is described like such: “Soon, the group had gone down the mountain, and Wei Wuxian could only say goodbye to them with some regret, continuing on another path alongside Lan Wangji.” Honestly, my ‘WWX and LWJ become Xiao MianMian’s shushus’ agenda is alive and well and I will not accept anything else.

In CQL, however, the reunion happens by pure coincidence. The scene is in actuality a mash-up between the reunion we have in the novel and another scene that takes place earlier, in which fugitives WWX and LWJ enter the home of strangers as they are looking for some water (and end up frolicking in hay).

Simply by changing the circumstances and the setting of the reunion, something is lost of the thematic connection between WWX/Wangxian and MianMian, even though viewers still get told that MianMian is someone who night-hunts. Without entering into the specific debate of whether show don’t tell is the only acceptable storytelling strategy, I think it’s fair to say that it is more effective to run into MianMian as she is night hunting based on the same rumours of hauntings as Wangxian instead of seeing her get home, pull a sword willy-nilly after hearing something suspicious in her backyard and finally getting told that she was out night hunting.

Moreover, having to recreate most of the beats of MianMian’s last appearance into this new context seems to have been quite confusing to the CQL production team, and seems to have breed, as a result, a lack of internal coherence to the scene (cut between the end of ep 43 and the beginning of ep 44), regardless of any of its other pitfalls as an adaptation.

In the CQL version, when we meet the family on their way back to their home, Xiao MianMian had been running around and her father chastises her by telling her something along the lines of “Don’t run around, what if you had gotten caught by the YLLZ?”, thereby suggesting that MianMian’s husband believes what is said about WWX. To this, Xiao MianMian replies But Mom Says he’s a Good Guy Though. Obviously, the intent of the writers was to show that MianMian had never bought into the rumours about WWX. However, this exchange makes seemingly no sense if one thinks about it for longer than a second. It suggests that MianMian had never talked about this topic with her husband or that he had never heard her talk about the YLLZ with their daughter. Considering how dangerous the YLLZ is said to be, and that they were night-hunting while he was a fugitive, I don’t see how that would have not come up even if for some unlikely reason she had until then only talked about the YLLZ with her daughter. Of course, one could suggest that MianMian’s husband says this to tease their daughter, fully aware that the YLLZ’s reputation of swallowing children is a tall tale, but the tone is not quite right? And it does not jive with the fact that MianMian is not on board with defaming people: I don’t think she’d be okay with her husband knowingly using the myth of the YLLZ to scare their kid into obedience because it’s convenient to do so? A miss.

To make matters worse, when WWX later asks MianMian is she’s back from night-hunting, Xiao MianMian says that they are back from searching for the YLLZ. First, there is a clear lack of coherence with the previous exchange between Xiao MianMian and her father. And again, it’s hard to get to the meaning of that exchange: is it implying that MianMian was looking for WWX to offer him her help? She certainly doesn’t once she does meet him, so that appears unlikely or at least it’s a plothole/dangling plot thread. But why be looking for him, if she knows he’s not the monster the rumours make him out to be? Clearly, the writers wanted to tell the viewers that MianMian is a rogue cultivator, and figured that having her back from a night-hunt would be enough: but why this line by Xiao MianMian about searching for the YLLZ? Is it just the fancy of a kid, who makes up her own stories while her parents pursue other cases (especially since MianMian says she was looking for puppets)? But then Xiao MianMian does say that ‘we’ were searching for him...

I can’t figure it out. I find it even weirder that, when WWX asks Xiao MianMian whether she is scared of the scary YLLZ (although she’s literally just said moments before that she was not scared of him in her exchange with her father that WWX certainly heard), Xiao MianMian starts replying that she is not scared and MianMian cuts her, apologizing to WWX that he daughter is too young and naive. What is she apologizing for? How is her daughter naive for not being scared of the YLLZ? Or is she apologizing for her daughter suggesting they were searching for the YLLZ? If so, why cut her now and not when she suggested that they were searching for him?

What’s happening in this scene?!

Also, even an attempt to keep lines as close to what they were in the novel ends up backfiring with the new context. In the novel, out night-hunting, MianMian asks “ 什么人” when she sees WWX come out from the direction of a graveyard (she has not seen LWJ yet). Knowing that she might suspect him of being a corpse or a spirit considering that it is night and that he is leaving a graveyard said to be haunted, WWX responds “不管是什么人，总归是人，不是别的东西 “ (No matter who I am, I’m a person after all, and not something else). In CQL, when MianMian hears a sound in her backyard, she asks “ 什么人” and, after LWJ comes out and is recognized by MianMian, WWX still responds (??) with a similar yet slightly different sentence: “ 不管是谁，反正是个人，不是东西 “ (No matter who I am, anyway I am a person, not a thing). This exchange in the context of the scene in CQL baffles me because: why would there be then an expectation that they would not be a person in this situation? Why would he say that after MianMian has seen and recognized LWJ, thus knowing full well that it is a person and not a spirit or a corpse? As well, why change “ 别的东西 “ (something else/different thing) for “ 东西 “ (thing) since MianMian’s question does not imply by itself that she thinks they are not people since she asks "什么人” (literally: what person?), making WWX’s statement that he is “not a thing” completely come out of nowhere? And it’s so much more perplexing than his original statement that he is not “something else” from a human.

I’m spending time on these two lines because I find them to be a sort of microcosm of some of the questionable adaptation choices made in CQL: at times the web series chooses to keep things from the novel even after changing the context in which these elements unfold without understanding how these no longer work within their new context. Yet, at the same time, it feels comfortable making what appear on the surface to be minute changes without thinking through the implications of them, and thus changing the point of these elements through these minute modifications.

Aside from these elements which prevent this moment in CQL to give us a scene that is internally coherent, let’s further interrogate some of the adaptational changes made between the novel and the web series, and their impact on the themes and characterisation.

One change that conflicts with the characterisation and the thematic discussion regards WWX inquiring about MianMian’s husband. Unlike in the novel, where WWX engages him in a little bit of chitchat and then feels forced by conventions to ask to which sect he belongs, CQL makes it seem as if it is an information WWX wants to ask because it’s literally the first thing he says to him, not even after a salutation or a “well met” (I will be magnanimous and believe that that choice to do so was for the sake of brevity and not because the preceding dialogue had not been written in the novel and the CQL writers couldn’t be bothered to come up with something). This, however, makes it look like WWX puts a lot of importance in knowing someone’s allegiance to a sect, which is the exact opposite of how he feels about it.

She pulled the man up, “This is my husband.”

Noticing that they held no malicious intent, the man softened visibly. After some chatter, Wei Wuxian asked out of convenience, “Which sect do you belong to and which kind of cultivation do you practice?”

The man answered frankly, “None of them.”

Luo Qingyang gazed at her husband, smiling, “My husband isn’t of the cultivating world. He used to be a merchant. But, he’s willing to go night-hunting with me…”

It was both rare and admirable that an ordinary person, and a man at that, would be willing to give up his originally stable life and dare travel the world with his wife, unafraid of danger and wander. Wei Wuxian could not help feeling respect for him.

Of course, without WWX’s thought process provided to us in the narration, the implications of MianMian’s husband being originally a merchant are a little bit lost in CQL, even if CQL!MianMian provides that piece of information. Of course, CQL could have chosen to include WWX’s musings, since it does include in this very scene some voice-over thoughts earlier. It is a shame though, that it does not, since MianMian and her husband are clear parallels for WWX’s parents in that regard: his father also left a stable life to travel the world with his wife.

Although, to be fair, CQL!MianMian is no longer a rogue cultivator who travels the world, so it is not like her husband made the decision to travel the world with her. Indeed, by frankensteining the two scenes from the novel, MianMian is by default no longer a rogue cultivator who travels the world: she is a rogue cultivator, sure, in that she does not belong to a sect, but she is a rogue cultivator with a home she clearly needs to inhabit during the day, what with the fact that they raise animals (we see little chicks in the background and there are piles of hay), and who night-hunts close enough to her home to be able to come back home in the morning. Moreover, without the context of meeting MianMian at the same glory-less night-hunt as Wangxian, it is harder to express the idea that MianMian is someone who chooses, like them, to do so for the common good and not for any prestige or rewards. MianMian is no longer another cultivator who goes ‘where the chaos is’ and, in terms of positive female representation, it is truly a shame. After all, the novel frames this as a positive and admirable trait which we see in our two main (male) protagonists: to have a woman follow, independently, the same path as them is meaningful.

Finally, instead of the scene closing with a regretful parting that hints at the sense of kinship between MianMian’s family and Wangxian, we get a truly (imo) patronizing ending. In CQL, their conversation is disrupted by threatening sounds. LWJ then instructs MianMian to stay in her home and protect Xiao MianMian while LWJ and WWX take care of things. So feminism..... such empowerment... To be honest, if CQL meant to change things and put MianMian in scenes where she wasn’t originally, why not have her go with Wangxian? Why not have her be there for the Mass Grave Hill Siege? Why not have her leave her daughter with her husband and let her be a badass? Instead, they conveniently check her out of the action after putting her directly in the middle of it. Instead of having MianMian be away from the sects and doing her own rogue cultivator thing as the events of the novels unfolded in WWX’s second life, explaining her absence, CQL reintroduces her just before an important moment but chooses to send her away once more, to stay home and protect her daughter, probably because they did not want to take the time and energy to figure out how and where she would fit into these scenes in which she had not be written in the novel. This is the kind of adaptational choice that makes me question why people consider CQL a more progressive work of fiction with regards to its treatment of female characters.

Final Musings: sometimes, less is more

Does an increase to the number of appearances of a character shape their impact on the audience? Or, conversely, does it dilute their meaning within and their impact on the text? There is not a simple answer to that question. Certainly, repetition is in itself a literary device, and many readers need salient and blunt reminders to get a message across, the likes of: the important characters are the ones you see the most often. Likewise, having a character feature more often in a work can provide the necessary breathing space to explore more and in more depth their psychology, motivations, past, actions, etc. However, the simple act of increasing the presence of a character does not inherently increase their impact on a work of fiction nor does it increase the nuances and depths of that character.

It is possible to adhere to a cynical or optimistic perspective regarding CQL’s decision to feature MDZS’ female characters more prominently. It is not hard to divine why the decision could have been made solely for the financial incentive of “pandering” to a female audience who dares to want to see themselves on screen. Conversely, one can imagine a production team animated by good intentions, who simply want to give more limelight to these female characters. Whether purely motivated by a profit-based logic or solely well-intentioned, or at a vector of both motives, it is clear that the CQL production did not increase the screen presence of MDZS’s female characters out of a desire to tell a stronger, more effective version of the original story they were working with. And that is why the urge to quantify good representation will always end up failing us in my opinion.

While it can be productive to consider trends, it does not give us a better media landscape or better individual works of fiction; it does not necessarily give us more impactful or better written female characters. This type of analysis urges us to see female characters as female first, without truly attempting to understand their purpose and treatment within the story. While MDZS has fewer female characters, these characters showcase different personalities and occupy different positions within the social world of the novel; they have arcs and thematic resonance and they cannot be simply replaced by a “sexy lamp” without disrupting the plot completely. They are also often given a surprising amount of depth, if readers are willing to pay attention to all that is found in the text and in the subtext.

For such a long novel, MDZS is able to remonstrate a certain amount of restraint wrt its storytelling. The timespan it wants to cover is expansive, its cast of characters not insignificant, and the story it aims to tell is ambitious. It is easy to imagine a meandering version of MDZS where many more characters are present, including many more female characters, or where the existing female characters get an extended presence within the narrative. But would those female characters have been more impactful? Would the story told have been a better one? The way the CQL production team chose to adapt MianMian hints that this is not a done conclusion.

(+ bonus MianMian meta)

#mdzs meta #mdzs #mianmian #luo qingyang #cql vs mdzs #mo dao zu shi #modaozushi #IT'S FINALLY DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!#this is my manifesto

259 notes · View notes