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vrishchikawrites · 3 years

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Reverse transmigration wangxian where LWJ who cultivates to immortality found an old summoning array where mxy fails to summon wwx but the whole thing with JGY still got revealed. LWJ in his grief summons WWX in our modern world, and the rest is up to you :) Maybe get WWX some therapy and loving family and how different modern days people are

This one is a bit angsty and has vague descriptions of sex. Modern AU.

“The Tragedy of Wei Wuxian - The Man Behind the Legend”

Lan Wangji caresses the title of the book with a thumb, eyes tracing a name he has always held close to heart but hasn’t heard for a long time.

“We all know of Wei Ying, courtesy Wuxian as Yiling Laozu. He’s one of the first to cultivate successfully with ‘resentful’ energy. His theories and papers helped us develop a greater understanding of yin energy, Qi deviation, and resentful spirits. He was a visionary, a man ahead of his time, someone who thought outside the box and looked for solutions instead of sticking to the norm. He’s also the first known person to donate his Golden Core.”

Wangji looks away for a moment, remembering Wen Ning’s snarling face and Jiang Wanyin’s rage, denial, and guilt.

“But we don’t talk about what brought that great visionary down. Society, as it did with many great thinkers, turned against him. In his youth, Wei Wuxian was one of the most accomplished cultivators of his generation. No one knows exactly what happened for him to develop the so-called ‘Ghostly Path’. His loss of the Golden Core may have been a factor, but the actual circumstances are shrouded in mystery.

What follows after the War of the Five Great Clans, known as the Sunshot Campaign, is nothing short of a tragedy. Wei Wuxian saw injustice happening and decided to fight against it. Society tore him up for it. At that time, all actions against him were justified and considered righteous. Those actions don’t stand up to scrutiny under the modern lens. Like all great and radical thinkers, Wei Wuxian ideals made him the enemy and that led to this tragic death, along with the murder of innocent war prisoners he sought to protect. There are unconfirmed reports of there being a child among the Wens.”

Wangji’s eyes flicker over to a picture frame sitting on his desk, an image of Sizhui and Jingyi smiling up at him through the glossy image. They’re well, he knows. Last he heard from them, they were in South Korea and having a great time.

Sizhui must not know of this book or he would’ve called immediately, always so concerned about his a’die.

“It was later revealed that hunger for power and political maneuvering led to his death. When we study the historical records, it is obvious that the man was pushed into the corner and was forced to retaliate. Unfortunately, no one cared about his fate-”

“I did,” Wangji whispered to himself, thinking back on silver eyes in an indistinct face. He loved - still loves Wei Ying - but the physical aspects of him have long since faded from his memory. He sometimes remembers Wei Ying’s laugh. Sometimes, he dreams of his smile. He doesn’t recall what Wei Ying sounded like, only remembering his tone when he said ‘Lan Zhan.’

And yet, Lan Wangji hasn’t forgotten love.

He reads the book in silence, going through all 375 pages of it without pausing to eat or sleep. It tells the story of Wei Ying in stark, blunt terms. There are a few facts missing or erroneous. He wasn’t the adopted child of the Jiangs. There was certainly no unrequited love between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli.

There’s very little mention of him. According to this book, Lan Wangji is a mere footnote in Wei Wuxian’s life; a childhood acquaintance, a disapproving comrade, and later a man who unraveled the truth because he pursued justice.

“He was just 23 years old when he died,” Wangji lingers over that statement, “23-year-olds are barely adults. They hold the promise of a bright future. They have so much potential inside of them. At 23, some people graduate from college, some take up their first serious job. At 23, young people fall in love and maybe form a life-long bond. Wei Wuxian became a key player in a big conflict at 17, he donated his core at 17. At 17, we still have children in high school. Our seventeen-year-olds aren’t even allowed to drink or drive. Our seventeen-year-olds are still protected and sheltered by their parents.

That is perhaps the biggest tragedy of Wei Wuxian’s life. He was only allowed to live a carefree life for seven years, from the day he was taken off the streets to the day the YunmengJiang Sect was attacked. After that and until his death, his life was marked by war, strife, betrayal, and persecution.

A visionary, a hero, a brilliant mind, dead by what most would consider suicide.” Wangji’s breath hitches and he takes a moment to collect himself, the sentence ringing in his head.

“He deserved better.”

---

He deserved better, Wangji thinks as he walks sedately towards his library.

There had been a glimmer of hope, all those years ago when Mo Xuanyu attempted to resurrect Wei Ying, but when he failed to do so, Wangji felt something shatter in him.

Whatever Wei Ying had done had completely destroyed his soul. His precious, noble soul. One that was formed for justice and kindness.

He deserved better.

He knows what he must do.

---

An immortal’s Golden Core has immeasurable power. It is the result of several hundred years of Cultivation and diligence. Wangji is more powerful than most, having survived through war, strife, grief, and loss.

An immortal’s Golden Core can also be an ingredient.

‘Draw the talismans shown below in the blood of your heart. Pin them in eight directions, north, northwest, west, southwest, south, southeast, east, and northeast. Sit in the exact center of this circle and sacrifice half of your cultivation to the being you wish to summon.’’

Wangji’s heart and hands are steady as he draws the talismans from blood drawn directly from the artery. He pins them in all eight directions and sits down in the middle, his hands moving elegantly to summon his Qi. He breathes in and breathes out, sinking into meditation with habitual ease.

It will work.

It has to.

The room floods with Resentful Energy.

---

He deserves better.

Wangji feels torn apart in ways he has never experienced before. The ritual summoning carves something out of his chest and drags it away. His mouth floods with blood and his body weakens alarmingly.

But it doesn’t matter.

Wei Ying.

---

Wei Ying is more beautiful than Wangji remembers. He is bloodsoaked, covered in cuts and bruises, saturated with Resentful Energy, but he’s alive.

And he’s beautiful.

Wangji stumbles to his feet, shakily walking into the bathroom to fetch some warm water. He walks back, his arms feeling the weight of the bucket like they have never carried such weight before. With every step that he takes towards Wei Ying, his heartbeat spikes up a little. He doesn’t know if he chose the right time. He doesn’t know if Wei Ying’s spirit had shattered before his death and dying had just been the aftermath.

Maybe Wei Ying’s body is here and not his soul.

Wangji cannot bear thinking about it.

With weak, shaking hands and the taste of blood lingering in his mouth, he slowly reaches forward. Layer by layer, he removes Wei Ying’s clothes, his fingertips tingling because his beloved’s body is warm.

He deserves better.

With aching tenderness, he wipes Wei Ying clean, removes all blood, grime, and mud from his body.

Wei Ying doesn’t stir.

---

There’s a gentle touch against his cheek. It is strange enough to wake him up because few people dare touch Lan Wangji. Slender fingers tap once, twice, almost playfully and Wangji knows who it is even before he opens his eyes.

Like a sun emerging from the horizon, Wei Ying appears before him, his smile bright and questioning.

“Wei Ying,” He breathes and Wei Ying nods, eyes a sparkling silver. There is so much beauty in that face that he can’t help but reach forward. Ignoring Wei Ying’s surprise, he cups his face and leans forward pressing his forehead against his beloved’s.

Wei Ying is still for a long moment, but he moves eventually, setting hands on Wangji’s shoulder. He doesn’t push him away, just huffing in soft amusement.

“Wei Ying,” He whispers, closing his stinging eyes, “Forgive Wangji for his selfishness.” He says, “I summoned you.” I summoned you without asking, knowing you wouldn’t desire it.

Wei Ying huffs again and that’s when it strikes him.

He pulls back and looks at his beloved in concern, scanning his eyes, face, neck, and chest quickly, his heart racing.

Why wasn’t Wei Ying speaking?

---

“You’re right in suspecting that his spirit sustained some sort of injury even before he was… killed.” Lan Jingyi says softly, pulling away from the sleeping Wei Ying, “There’s nothing physically wrong with him, Hanguang-jun, please don’t worry! His spirit just needs a little bit of time to recover.”

Wangji nods gratefully as he watches Sizhui lean over Wei Ying, his expression full of wonder and desperate happiness. As Sizhui’s cultivation grew, he started remembering more things from his childhood. They have never spoken on the matter of Wei Ying, but Wangji knows his son remembers more than he did when he was a child.

“Now, please let me check you.”

He levels a sharp look at the younger man but Lan Jingyi is no longer the adoring and naive student Wangji taught all those years ago. He’s a strong, accomplished cultivator and an avid researcher.

Lan Jingyi ignores him cheerfully and checks his core, stepping into Wangji's personal space without a care.

He narrows his eyes at the steely glint in the boy's eyes.

"I know you love him, Hanguang-jun," Lan Jingyi says, "And love is worth a life." They're immortals, life has little meaning for people who have lived for centuries, "But I wonder if the Wei Wuxian that you so adore will be happy about you risking your life for him."

Wangji's eyes flicker towards Wei Ying, who looks exhausted even in his sleep. "He deserved better."

Lan Jingyi is silent for a moment before he speaks, "Sizhui and I read the book on our flight back. Everything was horrible, I'm not surprised that his spirit sustained so much damage. But it is almost entirely intact now. It shows how much he wants to live, Hanguang-jun."

It's a relief.

---

Wei Ying can't speak but his presence is still loud. He rests for a few weeks to recover from his injuries. During that time, Wangji spends most of his days moving from Wei Ying's bedside to the library and back again.

His beloved has an insatiable hunger for knowledge. He wants to know everything about the modern world.

Every morning, Wangji is confronted with a bright face with sparkling eyes waving a book or a scroll in his direction.

Wangji hasn't experienced such liveliness in centuries. The very air of his home glows with Wei Ying's vitality. Wei Ying's body recovers quickly and soon the man is out of bed and following Wangji around.

His heart feels too big for his chest.

By all appearances, Wei Ying is perfectly content. He walks around Cloud Recesses, visits Caiyi Town, and is happy to watch the sunset with Wangji every evening.

That had been Wangji's wish when he performed that summoning.

He wanted Wei Ying to have another chance to live free and happy.

Looking at him now, Wangji wants to reach out, cup that cheerful face, and pepper kisses all over it. He wants to kiss those fluttering eyelids, smooth cheeks, sharp jawline-

That soft, smiling mouth.

Wangji is an immortal. He has endless patience. He can wait for Wei Ying to come to him.

He must wait.

---

The modern world fascinates Wei Ying. His beloved looks at everything from tall buildings to food stalls with wide, stunned eyes. Cloud Recesses and Caiyi Town are still relatively untouched by the passage of time, but Wei Ying has free access to the internet and has learned how to use it within two months of his arrival.

Wangji doesn't restrain him.

He just watches as Wei Ying, his brilliant and enthusiastic love, learns to thrive in his new world.

His voice has still not returned but that doesn't seem to bother Wei Ying. He is delighted to learn that there's a way to communicate nonetheless.

He starts learning sign language and Lan Wangji, with patient and steady hands, practices with him.

---

Lan Sizhui follows Wei Ying around with quiet affection and aching tenderness. He's much older than Wei Ying now, but he remains their son in spirit. He treats Wei Ying like a senior, with respect and adoration.

His Wei Ying notices, of course. At first, he finds the situation quite strange but Wei Ying isn't stupid.

'Lan Zhan,' He asks, 'Who is Sizhui?'

Wangji brings his fingers up and replies, 'He's your a-Yuan. I went looking for you but found him instead.'

Wei Ying's eyes widen and he spins around, running out of the room to seek Sizhui.

Wangji follows sedately and when he finds his love and his son, they're embracing while crying tears of joy.

---

'Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!'

Wangji huffs under his breath and carefully sets his brush down, tucking the scroll away before turning to meet bright silver eyes.

Wei Ying leans forward with an eager expression, 'Do you know where Suibian is?'

Wangji nods, 'In storage. I was able to retrieve it from the Jin Clan.'

'Can I have it?'

Wangji rises smoothly to his feet and leads Wei Ying to storage where both Suibian and Chenqing.

Wei Ying only glances at Chenqing for a moment before reaching for Suibian with a desperate expression.

Suibian, a blade that has remained sealed since Jiang Wanyin unsheathed it once, easily reveals itself again.

Wei Ying spins around eagerly and looks at him with pleading eyes.

As Wangji is able to deny Wei Ying nothing, he reaches for Bichen and they immediately head for the training grounds.

It has been a long time since Wangji has really used Bichen to its full capacity. With half of his core pulsing within Wei Ying, they're almost evenly matched.

Wangji has not fought in ages but Wei Ying is still a Cultivator. The spar is fast-paced and thrilling. Wangji acquaints himself with Wei Ying as his love becomes reacquainted with his sword.

Wei Wuxian had been one of the best swordsmen of his generation. He has lost none of his elegance and skill. Wangji presses him and Wei Ying laughs soundlessly, twirling around him in white GusuLan robes, bright and joyful.

He breaks Wangji's heart and mends it at the same time.

---

Wangji has missed Wei Ying for hundreds of years.

He can't resist the urge to touch. He keeps it chaste and respectful but his hands have a mind of their own in Wei Ying's vicinity.

When they're out and about, Wangji guides Wei Ying with a hand on his back. It becomes natural to grasp his love's elbow if he wants Wei Ying's attention.

His touches can easily be dismissed as gestures of friendship by most. But Wei Ying knows him.

'er-gege,' Wei Ying's smile is sweet, 'Wei Ying is cold.'

Wangji's eyes flicker over to the lit fire briefly before landing on his love, 'Are you feeling well?' He asks in concern, reaching forward to place the back of his hand on Wei Ying's forehead.

His beloved laughs and nods, leaning into the touch with a sly smile, 'I'm well, just cold.'

Wangji feels a stir in his chest at the intent look in Wei Ying's eyes. Hesitantly, he cups Wei Ying's cheek in silent question.

Wei Ying nuzzles his palm, his eyelids fluttering close gently.

Desperation and elation flood him and Wangji sucks in a sharp breath. He moves in a blur, lifting Wei Ying off his seat and placing him on his lap.

Wei Ying gasps and giggles, his tall, strong body seeming to almost shrink as he cuddles close. Wangji wraps both arms around his love and squeezes him tight, rocking them gently as he is assaulted with painful love.

"Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying," He chants in Wei Ying's hair, holding him so close, it feels like there's no part of him not touching his love.

When Wei Ying turns to him with a smile in his eyes, Wangji doesn't hesitate to lean forward, bringing their lips together in a long-awaited kiss.

He presses Wei Ying back against the crook of his elbow and tastes his silent laugh on his tongue.

Wangji has never felt so blissful and complete.

---

Jingyi convinces Wei Ying to go to therapy.

Eager to learn and curious, Wei Ying agrees.

He returns from every session with a thoughtful expression.

Months pass but his voice is still lost.

---

They make love and Wei Ying mouths the words he wants to speak. He smiles, sobs, laughs, and pouts as Wangji takes him apart bit by bit.

Wangji has never known such pleasure. He loses himself, drowning in Wei Ying's scent and finding heaven in his body.

He enjoys feeling smooth skin. He sinks his fingers into Wei Ying's silken hair. He tastes the sharp edge of his jaw. He bites. He drives in and takes ownership of Wei Ying's pleasure.

He presses his mischievous sprite into their bed and doesn't hold back, centuries of love pouring out of him.

---

A combination of therapy and Wei Ying's natural approach to life makes his recovery quick. Within a year, he's well-adjusted and happy.

He laughs at almost everything. The first time they fly, the first time they visit an amusement park, the first time they go to an aquarium.

He laughs and Wangji starts noticing the color of his voice returning to it.

Wangji is grateful for what he has. He's grateful that Wei Ying is back, safe, and happy. He is grateful that Wei Ying is unharmed.

But he cannot lie to himself. He misses Wei Ying's voice.

---

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,"

Wangji almost misses it, as engrossed as he is. He presses in deep and feels a shiver of pleasure race down his spine. Wei Ying's fingers curl around Wangji's nape and his lips caress his ear.

"Lan Zhan,"

He stills.

Wangji takes a deep, bracing breath and pulls back a little, balancing on his arms to peer down at his lover.

Wei Ying is a vision. His cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and dark with passion, his lips bitten red from Wangji's kisses. His long hair is scattered and wild, a tangle of glossy strands across Wangji's pillow.

"Lan Zhan,"

Wei Ying's lips move and a voice accompanies that movement. It is slightly hoarse, somewhat weak, but it is still the voice he barely remembers.

Heat flares in him and he sinks deeper, pulling a sharp gasp from Wei Ying.

He spends the entire night filling their room with that precious voice.

---

Wei Ying doesn't ask questions. He doesn't ask why Wangji did what he did. He doesn't ask how he did it. His beloved has always been perspective and he understood Wangji's desperation from the moment he woke.

He reads the book that triggered it all and laughs, "Aiya, they make me out to be some sort of martyr for justice." He says fondly, for he is very fond of the modern world.

Sizhui is sitting at his feet, eyes closed in bliss as Wei Ying gently combs his hair, styling it into an intricate braid.

"They're not wrong, though." Jingyi can never sit straight and he has forgotten all of his Lan teachings over the years. He has his legs thrown over the arm of his chair and his head is dangling over another arm, his hair sweeping the floor as he nods.

Ridiculous.

"I never asked to be glorified in such a way." Wei Ying protests with a chuckle.

"Baba should be grateful no one knows about his resurrection." Sizhui pipes up, "At least, you don't have to deal with modern stans."

Wangji arches a brow at the word and Wei Ying laughs, already more accustomed to the Internet language than Wangji is. "Oh, heaven forbid!"

"But listen, you and Hanguang-jun have the greatest love story ever, you could write a book about it, Wei-quanbei!"

Wei Ying tilts his head to the side and Wangji urges him to consider it with a subtle nod. Wei Ying is happy but he's never content to be idle. The modern world doesn't need cultivation, but perhaps it can benefit from their stories.

---

‘Once you summon successfully, you belong to this being for all eternity as payment for the one wish they may grant. Half of your core will live within them. If they die, you die. If they live, you live. If they hurt, you hurt. If they become corrupt, you become corrupt.

You will sacrifice immortality, but not the eternal bond. Every time you are reincarnated into this world, you will be tethered to the being.

Beware.

Wangji tucks the scroll away, sealing it so that it is never discovered again.

He has no regrets.

#short prompts #wangxian #lan wangji #wei wuxian #lan suzhui #lan jingyi #modern au #canon divergence

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stickynotestoletters · 3 years

Note

may i ask for some poly relationship w larry & sal x male reader hcs?

Ah! Of course! :) Sorry I've been taking so long school is getting to me cause of finals;-;

Warnings: Noncannon compliant (their parents aren't together, no one dies, etc), NSFW (implied teen NSFW otherwise they're out of highschool), no weird cult stuff but they still ghost hunt, more modernish (?) phones and stuff

Sal x Male Reader x Larry hcs

highschool

I think that Sal and Larry would have gotten together before you got there

Like, I say gotten together but the way they started it was literally best friends that were super hornknee and decided to have sex together

They started then developing romantic feelings for each other though

And although the sex dynamic wasn't perfect (refer to my Sal x reader NSFW fic) it was good and they loved each other

It became an on and off thing until they actually worked it out

they talked about it and decided that it was better that they stay friends until they can sort out their own sexual desires and endeavors

Sal didn't even know he could do both as a switch and verse so he wanted to just re-examine his sexual self

And Larry was okay with that

So they decided to date but just without sex for a while

Then you moved to Nockfell their sophomore year

and god were you cool

Sal was the first one to see you in the hallway

It wasn't love at first sight really

He thought you were cool and he wanted to talk to you

Then that same day he told Larry about you during lunch

"I want to talk to him I just don't know how to approach him"

"Oh, well who is it?"

Ngl Larry was kinda jealous about how flustered Sal was getting at the prospect of a new friend but then Sal pointed at you and Larry was like "Oh, okay, I get it."

So Larry just approaches you

It was kinda to tease Sal about how shy he was being

Also kinda because you looked rad as fuck

So Larry approaches you sitting at a table alone

You were actually quite chill

You were happy since no one was approaching you

You guys hit it off and ended up becoming really good friends!

So for the duration of your sophomore year and the summer of your junior year, you guys were really good pals and hung out a lot

Then Larry started developing feelings first

And he was super confused since he knew he still liked Sal, no doubt about it

So he was just super confused and conflicted because he didn’t want to break up with Sal

So during, about the first half, of all of your junior year he kept this to himself and tried to keep himself from feeling for you

Sal on the other hand already accepted his feelings, he realized it later than Larry

And he read yp on what being polygamous meant

So although there was a lot of confusion at first he figured it's no different from people in love triangles

He realizes it a couple weeks after Larry and decides to bring this up to Larry during winter break

The conversation pretty much just went like Sal explaining polyamory to Larry for an hour

They end up deciding to just wait a bit and try to flirt with you individually

you know,

because they don't remember that you don't know they're attracted to you at this point

So basically you think that they're both trying to cheat on each other for the week they're flirting with you

At the end of that week, you tell them to meet you together

And they don't know any better than to meet you

And then you come to them, don't let them explain, and cry because you don't want two of your best friends to cheat on each other like this even though you like them

And then they realize why you're saying this

So although this was not the time they expected to confess to you they told you what they were trying to do

So you just sat there

With these two idiots

and told them "No guys, cause I was literally having a breakdown about losing my two best friends."

And they confess to you

and everything is emotional and raw and you accept

Your guys' dynamic doesn't change because you’re dating now

The only difference is you guys make out together and show lots more pda

although you always bring up what they did when they were trying to give you hints

"We just really wanted to flirt with you okay??? Is it such a crime to want your crush to fall for you???"

"When you guys don't explain you're looking to expand your relationship, yes. Yes, it is Larry."

"He's kind of right babe-"

"SAL-"

Y'all spend a lot of time communicating with each other on stuff like that now

Your senior year goes without any bumps between all of you and you then graduate

College Dynamic

so you and the gang (except Ash, she moves to the city of course) goes and makes a college house

once you all move in together there it's a new routine

You all agreed and talked about the move together and what it would entail

And then you all finally realized how different it was from a monogamous relationship it was

But you all had your learning curves within the relationship

You find out more about their dynamic as a couple

For example, Larry and Sal never liked to fall asleep without you anymore

They had trouble sleeping without you beforehand and the first time you all slept in the same bed together it was just... so... peaceful

They'll spoon and cuddle without you individually (Sal is always the big spoon with Larry)

but they just love falling asleep next to you

They also refuse to do homework without you there

Even if it's just the simplest this they're just gonna need to have you in the room to finish it

Sal likes to make songs about you guys

He records them and edits some but he never lets you two listen to them

"It's just embarrassing if you two were to listen to it. It's like confessing my love for you guys all over again except I can't hide behind the mask."

So until he decides to release his songs online or plays those at gigs he's never going to let you listen to them

Larry likes to paint you guys

His paintings of you before the "disaster confession" were okay, it just looked like he was making a painting of a friend, except for the occasional rose

But now he paints you and draws you two whenever he can

He finds it funny how flustered you and Sal get whenever he makes suggestive paintings or sketches of you two

One time he painted a whole sex portrait of you and Sal together (A 12 by 28 specifically) hung it upright in front of the door to your rooms and didn't tell anyone

So after you and Sal got home that day you were welcomed with Larry lounging on your bed with the giant picture of you fucking Sal next to him

It was definitely beautiful though, even if it's hard to call your nudes beautiful

"Larry Johnson, this painting, as always, masterful. Beautiful craftsmanship but please-" "-we mean this in the most loving way possible Larry-" "-STOP PAINTING OUR NUDES BABE"

He put it away to be hung up in your apartment for when you all move out

Non-College Life

Once you all finish college you guys move into an apartment outside of Nockfell

The minute after you and Sal leave to get food Larry puts up all his private paintings of you guys

It's funny to him

I imagine you guys moving to a really populated city

Somewhere where it's a good place for people wanting to have creative jobs but still close to Nockfell

Maybe not back to New Jersey but probably not as far as New York or LA

you guys do all the cute stuff you never got to in Nockfell together

It's not like the majority of Nockfell was homophobic, mostly just the people who went to the church

But a lot more of them didn't think that polyamory was possible

So now it's easier

It's not like you never experience any polyphobia anymore but it's easier because you're in a more open-minded place

Sal's favorite thing is to go to concerts now

And pride

He also likes coffee house dates too

Larry gets hit on a lot though whenever you guys go out anywhere though

He finds it funny how jealous you both get

Sometimes if he wants Sal to get really mad he'll play along

But most of the time he shuts it down before it begins

Sal gets hit on a lot at concerts the most though

He gets kind of awkward about it, he's not going to edge them on but he gets uncomfortable enough to just not know how to shut them down

Usually, you and Larry will just appear behind him and whisk him away

Larry likes to use it as teasing leverage for a good rough one that night but you usually make sure he's okay with it before Larry does anything

You get hit on the most casually

Here and there but there aren't really specific places

It just sort of happens

You mostly shut them down alone

But occasionally you'll have to go to Sal and Larry if they're persistent

And they'll be mean too

One of the first times you saw Sal and Larry ever legitimately get that mean was when you got hit on in a club and they both just pulled you behind them and absolutely ripped the person a new one

You guys really like to stay at home if you guys have dates though that way everyone feels included

But when you all do go around together it's always specifically for three people you never tell anyone it's a date for dinner reservations, you always make sure you go on rides everyone wants to go on at amusement parks, and hey if worse comes to worst smoking is a group activity (if you have asthma or any other breathing condition Larry makes you edibles if you really wanna do edibles with them)

Starting jobs there are tough and all but you make it off your feet

Sal ends up booking a lot of gigs and Larry's commission request skyrocket when he moves to the city and makes a blog about his art

You all get an apartment with affordable rent and one that allows Gizmo

I hc that Gizmo is an esp but I don't know if that's real

So regardless you'll still be able to have room for him

Sal proposes to both of you

You guys talked about marriage and decided that it would be easier legally to just not get married through a court

So you guys have a friends wedding and Gizmo is the ring bearer

You guys don't get a fancy venue or anything

You guys all just have a city wedding

NSFW

So, the first time you all decide to hook up it's mostly just very communicative rules beforehand

Sal is more comfortable with being fucked than fucking someone else at most times but "It's not like I never want to stick my dick in you two" as he puts it

He also likes background music on most of the time

It's kinda weird if there isn't just a little bit of music

It isn't really bothersome, you guys keep it below 20 at most times

Sal's also super submissive

He liked it rough, make him cry out for you two

A bit of a pillow prince

Especially enjoys being tied up by you two

gags and blindfolds are on the table

Although whenever he does feel up to fucking you and Larry he'll usually end up having you two ride him because he gets to be such a mess with you two unless he's jealous or upset

Usually, when he's upset he's gonna lift you two up and fuck you against the headboard or wherever you two are if he's impatient enough

One time you were chilling with Larry in your bedroom and he was painting over his easel

Sal burst through the door where it slammed back on itself and closed itself

He then tracks his eyes on you

immediately asks you "Can I please fuck you right now"

and as soon as your safe word and consent comes out of your mouth he's holding you down on the bed and fucking into you so hard you can barely breath

Larry doesn't mind it and just continues painting with you moaning and being so pathetic in the background of his music

He kinda finds it funny because before you all got together and he and Larry would angry fuck it never worked out

Sal was just being a brat most of the time because Larry still wouldn't let him fuck him submissively

Speaking of which, Larry's more comfortable with being dominant, he'll bottom but only if he can still be dominant otherwise forget it

Larry's just a rough fucker anyway

He really likes pushing and holding you two up against walls when he fucks you guys

He likes showing off the muscles he got helping his mom with handy work and stuff like that

The first time he did this was to Sal when you were studying in your guy's room

You said you didn't really wanna participate today so they fucked like they would without you

And so they're talking back and forth, teasing each other

and Larry corners him

And just

lifts him up

It looked like he was just lifting a bag of sugar up

Sal seemed weightless as Larry just rocks into him

It was one of the hottest things you'd seen at the time so you joined them

You do that a couple more times but then it just becomes normal and you decide you need to start finishing all those assignments

Larry does that to you one on one as well without Sal but it happens to Sal a lot more spontaneously

Larry though is kinkier than Sal in some respects

He'll try anything at least once "Lisa didn't raise no bitch-"

He's really into breeding and long fucking sessions though

Like, lowkey he has omegaverse fantasies

Not because of the weird stuff just because a lot of the time..... they have breeding written in

He'll never admit to reading any of it but you know he has at least once

Super into dirty talk

And he's really good at it

He also had a praise kink and a degradation kin

He likes degrading you and you telling him thank you and how good he's treating a filthy little brat like you

"What're my filthy little brats good for other than sucking my dick so well. Taking me so well like the dirty little whores you are?"

"Yes sir-" "-we're made for your big cock-" "-thank you for fucking us like this-"

He especially likes breeding you and having Sal suck you off while he does it, he finds your crying cute

And an added bonus is rewarding Sal after for it

You guys talk about long-term consent and all that and decide that it's a good idea, you all trust and love each other so there isn't a problem

lol this kinda went to shit at the end but I still like it enough! Thanks for the Sally Face request I really like this game and the dynamic between a poly reader hc :)

-Laika

#poly reader #poly Sallarry #sallarry #sallarry x reader #sallarry x male reader #sally face #sally face x Larry #sal x larry #larry x reader #sal x reader #sal x larry x reader #noncannon compliant #sally face smut #sallarry smut #sal x larry x male reader smut

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hamliet · 3 years

Text

The Crows Summon the Sun

Or, Hamliet’s review of Shadow & Bone, which gets a 4.5/5 for enjoyment and a 3.5/5 in terms of writing.

The true heroes of this story and the saviors of the show are the Crows. However, the problem is that the show then has an uneven feel, because the strength of the Crows plotline highlights the weaknesses of the trilogy storyline. But imo, overall, the strengths overshadow (#punintended) the weaknesses.

I’ll divide the review into the narrative and the technical (show stuff, social commentary), starting with narrative.

Narrative: The Good

It’s What The Crows Deserve

I went into the show watching it for the Crows; however, knowing that their storyline was intended to be a prequel, I wasn’t terribly optimistic. And while it is a prequel, the characters have complete and full arcs that perfectly set them up for the further development they will have in the books (which I think should be the next season?). Instead of retreading the arcs they’d have in the books, which is how prequels usually go, they had perfect set up for these arcs. It’s really excellent.

Jesper, Inej, and Kaz are all allowed to be flawed, to have serious conflicts with one another, and yet to love each other. They feel like a found family in the best of ways. Kaz is the perfect selfish rogue; he’s a much more successfully executed Byronic hero than the Darkling, actually. Inej is heroic and her faith is not mocked, yet she too is flawed and her choices are not always entirely justified, but instead left to the audience to ponder (like killing the girl), which is a more mature writing choice that I appreciated.

Jesper is charming, has a heart of gold despite being a murderer and on the surface fairly greedy, and MILO THE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT GOAT WAS THE BEST THING EVER. I also liked Jesper’s fling with Dima but I felt it could be better used rather than merely establishing his sexuality, like if Jesper and Dima had seen each other one more time or something had come of their tryst for the plot/themes/development of Jesper.

Nina and Matthias’s backstory being in the first season, instead of in flashbacks, really works because it automatically erases any discomfort of the implications of Nina having falsely accused Matthias that the books start with. We know Nina, we know Matthias, we know their motivations, backgrounds, and why they feel the way we do. It’ll be easy for the audience to root for them without a lot of unnecessary hate springing from misunderstanding Nina (since she’s my favorite). Matthias’s arc was also really strongly executed and satisfyingly tragic. Their plotline was a bit unfortunately disconnected from the rest of the story, but Danielle Gallagan and Callahan Skogman have absolutely sizzling chemistry so I found myself looking forward to their scenes instead of feeling distracted. Also? It’s nice seeing a woman with Nina’s body type as a romantic and powerful character.

Hamliet Likes Malina Now

Insofar as the trilogy storyline goes, the best change the show made was Mal. He still is the same character from the books, but much more likable. The pining was... a lot (too much in episode 4, I felt) but Malina is a ship I actually enjoyed in the show while I NOTP’d it in the books. Mal has complexity and layers to his motivations (somewhat) and a likable if awkward charm. Archie Renaux was fantastic.

Ben Barnes is the perfect Aleksandr Kirigan, and 15 year old me, who had the biggest of big crushes on Ben Barnes (first celebrity crush over a decade ago lol), was pretty damn happy lol. He’s magnificantly acted--sympathetic and terrifying, sincerely caring and yet villainous in moments. Story-wise, I think it was smart to reveal his name earlier on than in the books, because it helps with the humanization especially in a visual medium like film. Luda was a fitting (if heartbreaking) backstory, but it is also hard for me to stomach knowing what the endgame of his character is. Like... I get the X-men fallacy thing, but I hope the show gives more kindness to his character than the books did, yet I’m afraid to hold my breath. Just saying that if you employ save the cat, if you directly say you added this part (Luda) to make the character more likable (as the director did) please do not punish the audience for feeling what you intended.

I also liked the change that made Alina half-Shu. It adds well to her arc and fits with her character, actually giving her motivations (she kinda just wants to be ordinary in a lot of ways) a much more interesting foundation than in the books. Also it’s nice not to have another knock-off Daenerys (looking to you Celaena and book!Alina). Jessie Mei Li does a good job playing Alina’s insecurities and emotions, but...

Narrative: The Ehhhhhhh

Alina the Lamp

Sigh. Here we go. Alina has little consistent characterization. She’s almost always passive when we see her, yet she apparently punches an officer for calling her a name and this seems to be normal for her, but it doesn’t fit at all with what we know about her thus far. Contradictions are a part of humanity, but it’s never given any focus, so it comes across as inconsistent instead of a flaw or repression.

I have no idea what Alina wants, beside that she wants to be with Mal, which is fine except I have no idea what the basis of their bond is. Even with like, other childhood friends to lovers like Ren/Nora in RWBY or Eren/Mikasa in SnK, there’s an inciting moment, a reason, that we learn very early on in their story to show us what draws them together. Alina and Mal just don’t have that. There’s the meadow/running away thing, but they were already so close, and why? Why, exactly? What brought them together? The term “bullies” is thrown around but it isn’t ever explored and it needed to be this season. If I have to deal with intense pining for so many episodes at least give me a foundation for their devotion. You need to put this in the beginning, in the first season. You just do.

A “lamp” character is a common metaphor to describe a bad character: essentially, you could replace the character with a lamp and nothing changes. Considering Alina’s gift is light, it’s a funnily apt metaphor, but it really does apply. Her choices just don’t... matter. She could be a special lamp everyone is fighting over and almost nothing would change. The ironic thing is that everyone treating her like a fancy lamp is exactly the conflict, but it’s never delved into. We’re never shown that Alina is more than a lamp. She never has to struggle because her choices are made for her and information is gifted to her when she needs it. Not making choices protects Alina from consequences and the story gives her little incentive to change that; in fact, things tend to turn out better when she doesn’t make choices (magic stags will arrive).

Like... let’s look at a few occasions when Alina almost or does make choices. For example, she chooses to (it seems) sleep with Kirigan, but then there’s a convenient knock at the door and Bhagra arrives with key information that changes Alina’s mind instantly despite the fact that Bhagra’s been pretty terrible to her. If you want to write a woman realizing she’s been duped by a cruel man, show her discovering it instead of having the man’s abusive mother tell her when she had absolutely no such suspicions beforehand. There’s no emotional weight there because Alina doesn’t struggle.

When she is actually allowed to carry out a bad choice, the consequences are handwaved away instead of built into a challenge for her. Like... Alina got her friends killed. More than once. I’m not saying she’s entirely to blame for these but could we show her reacting to it? Feeling any sort of grief? She never mentions Raisa or Alexei after they’re gone, just Mal, and I’m... okay. They were there because of you. Aren’t you feeling anything? Aren’t you sad? The only time Alina brings up her friends’ deaths is to tell Kirigan he killed her friends when they were only there because she burned the maps. She yells at Kirigan for “never” giving her a choice, but she almost never makes any, so why would he? Alina has the gall to lecture Genya about choices, but she herself almost never has to make any.

Which brings me to another complaint in general: Alina’s lack of care for everyone around her when they’re not Mal, even if they care for her. Marie dies because of her (absolutely not her fault of course) but as far as we know she never even learns about Marie. She certainly doesn’t ever ask about her or Nadia. Alina seems apathetic at best to people, certainly not compassionate or kind.

The frustrating thing is that there is potential here. Like, it actually makes a lot of psychological sense for an orphan who has grown up losing to be reluctant to care for people outside of her orbit and that she would struggle to believe she can have any say in her destiny (ie make choices). It’s also interesting that a girl who feels like an outsider views others outside her. But the show never offers examines Alina’s psychology with any depth; it simply tells us she’s compassionate when she is demonstrably not, it tells us she makes decisions when it takes magical intervention to do so. It’s a missed opportunity. This does not change between episodes 1 and 8, despite the episodes’ parallel structures and scenes, which unintentionally reinforces that Alina had little real development.

Inej and ironically Jesper and Kaz embody the concept of “mercy” far better and with far more complexity than Alina does. The Crows have reactions to the loss of people who even betray them (Arken, etc), learn, and course-correct (or don’t) when they are even loosely involved in having strangers die. They’re good characters because they change and learn and have their choices matter. When they kill we see them wrestle with it and what this means even if they are accustomed to doing so. Jesper can’t kill in front of a child. Kaz wonders what his killings do to Inej’s idea of him.

Narrative: The Mixed Bag

Tropes, Themes, Telling vs. Showing

So the show’s themes in the Alina storyline are a mess, as they are in the trilogy too. Tropes are a very valuable way to show your audience what you’re trying to say. They’re utilized worldwide because they resonate with people and we know what to expect from them. The Crows' storyline shows us what it wants us to learn.

Preaching tells, and unfortunately, the trilogy relies on telling/preaching against fornicationBad Boys. It’s your right to write any trope or trample any trope you want--your story--but you should at least understand what/why you are doing so. The author clearly knows enough about Jungian shadows and dark/light yin/yang symbolism to use it in the story, but then just handwaves it away as “I don’t like this” but never does so in a narratively effective way: addressing the appeal in the first place. If you really wanna deconstruct a trope, you gotta empathize with the core of the reason these tropes appeal to people (it allays deep fears that we are ourselves unlovable, through loving another person despite how beastly they can be), and address this instead of ignoring it. Show us a better way through the Fold of your story. Don’t just go around it and ignore the issue.

The trilogy offers highly simplistic themes at best--bad boy bad and good boy good, which is fine-ish for kid lit but less fine for adult complexity, which the show (more so than the books) seems to try to push despite not actually having much of it.

Alina and Mal are intended to be good, we’re told they are, but I’m not sure why beyond just that we’re told so. Alina claims the stag chose her, but in the show it’s never explained why at all. Unlike with Kaz, Inej, Jesper, and hell even Matthias and Nina, we don’t see Alina or Mal’s complex choices and internal wrestling.

Like, Inej’s half-episode where she almost killed the guy they needed was far more character exploration than Alina has the entire show, to say nothing of Inej’s later killing which not only makes her leaps and bounds more interesting, but ironically cements her as a far more compelling and yes, likable, heroine than Alina. We see Inej’s emotional and moral conflict. We can relate to her. We see Kaz struggling with his selfishness and regrets, with his understanding of himself through his interactions with and observations of Inej, Alina, the Darkling, Arken, and Jesper.

We don’t explore what makes Mal or Alina good and what makes them bad. We don’t know what Alina discovers about herself, what her power means for her. We are told they are good, we are told she knows her power is hers, but never shown what this means or what this costs them/her. Their opportunities to be good are handed to them (the stag, Bhagra) instead of given to them as a challenge in which they risk things, in which doing good or making a merciful choice costs them. Alina gets to preach about choices without ever making any; Inej risks going back to the Menagerie to trust Kaz. Her choices risk. They cost. They matter and direct her storyline and her arc, and those of the people around her.

Production Stuff:

The Good:

The production overall is quite excellent. The costumes, pacing, acting, and cinematography (for example, one of the earliest scenes between the Darkling and Alina has Alina with her back to the light, face covered in his shadow, while the Darkling’s face is light up by her light even if he stands in the shadows) are top-notch. The soundtrack as well is incredible and emphasizes the scenes playing. The actors have great chemistry together, friend chemistry and romantic when necessary (Mal and Alina, the Darkling and Alina, Kaz and Inej, Nina and Matthias, David and Genya, etc.) All are perfectly cast.

The Uncomfortable Technicalities Hamliet Wants to Bitch About:

The only characters from fantasy!Europe having any trace of an accent reminiscent of said fantasy country's real-world equivalent are antagonists like Druskelle (Scandinavia) and Pekka (Ireland). When the heroes mostly have British accents despite being from fantasy Russia and Holland, it is certainly A Choice to have the Irish accent emphasized. The actor is British by the way, so I presume he purposely put on an Irish accent. I'm sure no one even considered the potential implications of this but it is A Look nonetheless.

The Anachronisms Hamliet Has a Pet Peeve About:

The worldbuilding is compelling, but the only blight on the worldbuilding within the story itself (ignoring context) was that there are some anachronisms that took me out of the story, particularly in the first episode where “would you like to share with the class” and “saved by the horn” are both used. Both are modern-day idioms in English that just don’t fit, especially the latter. The last episode uses “the friends we made along the way.” There are other modern idioms as well.

IT’S STARKOVA and Other Pet Peeves Around the Russian Portrayal

Russian names are not hard, and Russian naming systems are very, very easy to learn. I could have waved “Starkov” not being “Starkova,” “Nazyalensky” not being “Nazyalenskaya,” and “Safin” not being “Safina” as an American interpretation (since in America, the names do not femininize). However, “Mozorova” as a man is unfathomable and suggests to me the author just doesn’t understand how names work, which is a bit... uh okay considering a simple google search gets you to understand Russian names. They aren’t hard. I cannot understand why the show did not fix this. It is so simple to fix and would be a major way to help the story’s overall... caricature of Russia.

Speaking of that... Ravka is supposedly Russian-based, but it is more accurately based on the stereotypes of what Americans think of Russia. Amerussia? Russica? Not great.

The royals are exactly what Americans think of the Romanovs, right down to the “greasy” “spiritual advisor” who is clearly Rasputin and which ignores the Romanov history, very real tragedy, and the reason Rasputin was present in the court. The religion with all its saints is a vapid reflection of Russian Orthodoxy. The military portrayal with its lotteries and brutality and war is how the US views the Russian military. The emphasis on orphans, constant starvation, classification, and children being ripped from their homes to serve the government is a classic US understanding of USSR communism right down to the USSR having weapons of destruction the rest of the world fears (Grisha). Not trying to defend the Soviet Union here at all, but it is simplistic and reductive and probably done unconsciously but still ehhhh.

However, I’m not Russian. I just studied Russian literature. I’ve seen very little by way of discussion of this topic online, but what I do see from Russian people has been mixed--some mind, some don’t. The reality is that I actually don’t really mind this because it’s fantasy, though I see why some do. I'm not like CANCEL THIS. So why am I talking about this beyond just having a pet peeve?

Well, because it is a valid critique, and because it doesn’t occur in a vacuum. The Grishaverse is heralded as an almost paragon for woke Young Adult literature, which underlines itself what so frustrates me about how literary circles discuss issues of diversity and culture. Such praise, while ignoring its quasi-caricature of Russia, reflects a very ethnocentric (specifically American) understanding of culture, appropriation, and representation. All stories are products of their culture to various extents, but it bothers me on principle what the lit community reacts (and overreacts sometimes?) to and what people give a pass to. The answer to what the community reacts to and what it gives a pass always pivots on how palatable the appropriation is to American understandings and sensibilities. There’s nuance here as well, though.

I'm not cancelling the story or thinking it should be harshly attacked for this, but it is something that can be discussed and imo should be far more often--but with the nuance it begs, instead of black/white. But that’s a tall ask.

#s&b #hamliet reviews #shadow and bone #six of crows #kanej #jesper fahey #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #alina starkov #malyen oretsev #the darkling #darklina #malina #aleksander kirigan #netflix shadow and bone #s&b review

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 3 years

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Hi! I love everything that you write and heh I am a fan! 😄 tbh this is my first time requesting something on Tumblr! If you don't mind and if I am not being a bother...can you write about how the guys would react If MC suddenly starts making meme references? I don't know how I got the idea but I am REALLY curious. And love you! :D

Hiya! Tyvm for the kind words, and apologies that this took a while! I hope you have the chance to enjoy it regardless ❤️❤️❤️ Love you too, sweet pea! I promise to get to the next request you’ve sent ASAP~

Aight but this would be hilarious because the range of the reactions is just ungodly. I will be putting this under a cut after Napoleon so I don’t clog up everyone’s dash, but all the suitors are included below otherwise!

Comte is the one that recognizes a few, but didn’t really stay in modern times long enough to be as well-versed as a Gen Z kid might. Regardless he finds the wittiness and absolute chaotic fuckery to be delightful, and will 100% support the harmless nonsense. It never fails to get a laugh out of him

Mozart that first day be like: “Buzz off MC I hate you” MC, because she likes swinging bats at wasps’ nests: “Well that’s not very cash money of you” Mozart: ?????????? Comte, giggling in the bg like the secret fae he is This one’s just because I’m petty, but after the events of Comte rt I just imagine them encountering Vlad again and MC’s just “I lived bitch.” while Comte is flipping him off behind her lkjahgkjhdsg

Comte @ Leo when he finds the latter under his desk: Had it not been for the laws of this land, I would have slaughtered you. MC: wheezing from the hallway as she’s about to give him his letters

MC: So how was your day, honey? Comte: Good, good--briefly had to go beastmode upon the punk that pilfered my lint roller MC, biting her lip to keep from laughing: So does Leo still have his kneecaps? Comte: for now.

Comte, @ literally anyone upsetting the MC: I won’t hesitate, bitch

Comte: Be careful with my emotional baggage, it’s designer

MC: What if I was evil and ran towards you at very fast speeds Comte: My arms are strong, I would catch and hug you

Leo and Dazai are the ones that don’t have a single reference point but are filled with so much dumbass chaos energy that they just. Understand immediately???? Nobody knows how or why, but they just catch on so fast--adapt the language in a matter of weeks. Never underestimate the power of combined boredom, depression, and humor

I swear to god I just see MC taking them their Blanc/Rouge and being like “here you go sir, one enslaved moisture” and they just go fucking hog wild from day one. MC starts impersonating Theo when he leaves the room around Dazai, like fake deep voice “you all only hate me because you do not like me and I am mean to you. grow up.” Or like the MC meets a baby on her travels with Leo around town and she holds them and says v seriously and sagely “So you are Baby? I have heard tales of your exploits.” and Leo about loses his shit right there. They both think MC is the funniest person alive--they’ve never been more eager to throw a ring at someone in their entire life.

Also a bonus for my beloved Dazai: MC, facing even the slightest inconvenience (like dropping her fork) in the most dramtic voice possible: Life is not daijoubu. Dazai: wheezing

MC, after watching Theo turn down a woman at the bar in the meanest way possible: bro quit letting the darkness consume you u r scaring the hoes Dazai, literally rolling around on the ground, half-drunk and dying:

MC, walking alongside Dazai and stopping to stare at her reflection in the River Seine. Dazai’s expecting some sad or twisted shit, since people often feel comfortable talking about those things around him, but instead she just: “Oh, it’s you. The source of all my problems.” And he about falls into the river from shock HAHAHA

At this point don’t be surprised if his next book is about an absolute madlad woman similar to MC

Napoleon finds it to be a delightful quirk more than anything? He doesn’t really understand it, but he finds it funny when they change their voice for effect or speak in exaggerated tones. If it’s just comprehensible enough for an outsider to understand--or Sebas gives him context--chances are it’ll send him into a laughing fit

For this one I just imagine MC singing that Ratatouille meme song obnoxiously bad while cooking, and Napoleon and Comte are just so wildly amused by it bc it makes zero sense and it’s only vaguely French at this point

MC @ Napoleon while they’re cooking brunch: Can I offer you a nice egg in these trying times?

MC, conflicted because she’s tired and wanted to sleep in but also got to see Napo’s cute sleeping face for a few hours: For my next stunt, I’ll wake up at 5AM on the day I can sleep in. Sebas: Early to bed and early to rise makes a person healthy, wealthy, and wise MC: early to bed and early to rise makes me a massive bitch Napoleon: laughing in agreement

Isaac is the type to be bewildered and concerned at first (especially when he hears the more nihilistic ones hoOOOoooOO BOY) but eventually begins to understand it’s some bizarre attempt at humor (that hurts Zack baby). While some part of him laments that it reminds him of Dazai and he’s secretly jealous of how she and Dazai bond over it, he will sometimes join in the chaos when the mood strikes him and he’s feeling mischievous

Isaac: How are you feeling? MC: Oh, I’m not Isaac: seconds from dialing 911 Isaac: Are you okay? MC: Oh yeah dw I just suffer from that syndrome where your neutral expression makes you look like you’re an angry serial killer Isaac: say sike rn

Isaac, tutoring MC and correcting something: MC, muttering while redoing it: The risk I took was calculated, but man am I bad at math. Isaac: unable to help a laugh

One time MC was avoiding Isaac for fear of hurting his feelings and he just confronts her like: Isaac: back by unpopular demand, me! What’s wrong, MC pls MC was so hecking proud of him

Isaac, telling MC about a recent discovery he learned at uni from another professor: bones typically heal stronger after they’ve been broken--so long as they’re set properly, of course MC, looking him dead in the eyes: So what you’re saying is that I should break every bone in my body until I become superhumanly powerful? Isaac: please do not, no

Mozart and Jeanne are just. Totally lost. Why are you talking like that??? Why are you making “crab hands”???? They don’t understand. Maybe never will. They reach a point where they just kind of laugh and shake their heads, endeared by the oddity after they’re used to it and have determined it isn’t a threat/insult.

MC: It’s a cold and it’s a brooooken, Waluigi. Waaaaluigiiiii...waaaahluigi..... Mozart: surprised, then starts snickering and playing along on the piano

Arthur, asking MC very personal questions out loud because he is an idiot sometimes: Soooo MC, are you a top or a bottom? MC: I’m a threat. (If he asks a second time, the response will be “Wouldn’t you like to know, weatherboy.”) Jeanne, fighting a smile:

MC, about to punch an asshole: Your free trial of being alive has ended Jeanne, seconds from laughing for the first time in 100 years:

Also, because I genuinely can’t help myself. You know that knight meme like “Parry this you fucking casual.” I cannot stress enough that it is literally the personification of Jeanne’s entire character. I’m not even joking.

Arthur and Shakespeare are utterly fascinated by the rapid evolution of wordplay and the sheer hilarity. They will ask all about these so-called “memes” and ask for examples of them if MC can show them (either somehow accessing her phone or drawing them). MC draws Arthur the knife cat meme and he about a s c e n d s at the hilarity of it all, points and yells THEO IS HOLDING THE KNIFE. He is correct. They will be delighted and follow along eagerly, and--god forbid--will make their own based on late 19th century struggles.

Is this where Shakespeare got the idea for “What, you egg? stabs him” and “You are a saucy boy.”? I’m too scared to ask. Don’t even get me started on “The Fool jingled miserably across the floor.” That one is just too on the nose...

I can’t even imagine what would happen to Shakespeare if MC like translated vines and memes into Ye Olde English around him. Imagine she’s at one of those noble balls and hears rumors of these two guys living together and they’re so obviously gay and he says “And those gents w’re roommates.” And in the most false surprised tone ever MC just replies “oh mine own god, those gents w’re roommates.” Imagine having a wife that’s just as hilarious as you are and hits you with all the force of a bag of wet mice every time you speak in retaliation, he’s going into palpitations.

Every time Arthur does smth stupid MC just: “I Pretend I Do Not See It.”

Vincent is tickled pink by MC’s penchant for finding joy and/or amusement in nearly everything they do, and he smiles gently when he sees them muttering and laughing to themselves. He wants to be able to join them in what they love, but he has a harder time following along and understanding the darker humor sometimes. Mostly gets confused??? Please give him the easier ones to mimic and laugh when he tries--or just include him in your jokes MC. He’s babie your honor...

But he also. Will not. Stand any kind of self-deprecation or borderline verbal self-harm. He’s usually very easygoing and calm, but for whatever reason that stuff makes him go deathly quiet and upset.

MC, after something goes horribly wrong, hugging Vincent: Oh Vince, we really in it now Vincent: giggling a little despite his worries, relaxing

MC: Theo stop simping for Vincent that’s my job

MC, when Theo leaves the room and she gets Vincent all to herself: The evil is defeated.

MC: And this is where I would put my will to live...if I h a d one! Vincent: ;-; MC: oh shit, oh fuck, I was only kidding Vincent wait (MC was subsequently lectured and loved on for many hours)

Theo is conflicted because on the one hand, he loves to see you smiling and having fun. On the other, you’re clowning as hard as Dazai and Arthur and he can only handle so many monkeys in his circus. Most of the time he will roll his eyes and be the straight man of this comedy, but you might find him cracking a smile--or accidentally letting a chuckle slip past his lips now and again.

MC, after meeting Theo: I’m a nice person, but I’m about to start throwing rocks at people.

Theo, those first days: Oh? You’re approaching me? Instead of running away, you’re coming right to me? MC: I can’t beat the shit out of you without getting closer.

Theo: Every time I ask MC to explain “vibe check” to me she hits me with some kind of improvised weapon

MC, after the “incident” (you know the one): This year, I lost my dear lover Theo Theo, in the distance: QUIT TELLING EVERYONE I’M DEAD! MC: ;-; sometimes I can still hear his voice...

Sebastian is last because oh boy. OH BOYYYYY I LOVE HIM. Okay so the way I see this happening with Sebastian is just. So wild. Because at first he’s t r y i n g so hard to be the proper butler man. He does not meme. But then he starts to drift closer to what Niles from The Nanny was, where he’ll quip and joke in private or when the situation is just beyond the amount of absurdity he can handle without making a snarky comment. Everyone in the house can’t fathom how Sebas and MC got so close so fast, but there are points where they’re just “Are they even speaking English anymore???” It’s 11 times funnier than normal because Sebas almost never smiles or laughs when memeing, the deadpan quality of his playing along sends MC every time

Has ABSOLUTELY said “HEY. PANINI HEAD. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME???” jokingly when MC made a mistake in the kitchen. They laugh about it for y e a r s

MC: I can’t date someone who keeps a lamb as a pet, that’s so weird Sebas, brushing Lotte in front of MC: MC: MC: Okay, I will make an exception because she looks very polite

MC and Sebas, fully aware of the fame some of the men will reach in modern times: We will watch your career with great interest. (I s2g that’s like half of Sebas’ rt right there I’m crying)

Sebas rt with Lotte be like that 500 dollar Mareep meme: “sometimes a family can be just a boy, his gf, and their 500 dollar two foot tall Lotte”

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trashmenofmarvel · 3 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 57 (Final)

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You find your relic.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

You’d only been to the ancient Sanctum a few times, with strict access to the library for your studies and nowhere else, and normally you would be excited to visit the unofficial headquarters of the Mystic Arts.

But now, as you followed Wong to the room of portals that would lead to the Nepal sanctum, your stomach twisted and your heart raced. You couldn’t even enjoy the fact this was where Strange had gone on his near-disastrous pilgrimage. The idea of the Ancient One kicking him out on his ass was an entertaining one, though you were still glad she eventually trained him. As irritated as you were about a lot of things regarding the former surgeon, he and Wong both had taught you nearly everything you knew.

Plus, you’d seen the scars on his hands. As arrogant and egotistical as he appeared, Strange had suffered to get where he was. Not unlike yourself. Not unlike Bucky.

The Orb of Agamotto hung within the circular room where other sorcerers consulted with it, verifying that the magical Earthly shields were still intact. Past them were three doors leading to the other sanctums, including the one in Kathmandu.

You and Bucky followed Wong through, the familiar feeling of displacement shifting your stomach and throwing you off balance for a moment. Neither Wong nor Bucky were as unsteady as you were. It had been something you were embarrassed about, but according to Strange during one of your lessons, it simply meant you were more sensitive to spatial displacement.

As Wong led you both through the ancient stone hallways, past the commons where other sorcerers were in training, doubt crept along your nerves. Someday, possibly sooner than you were prepared, all of these people were going to follow you. Look to you for guidance, for teaching. For protection.

How were you supposed to become the next Ancient One if you couldn’t even walk through a portal without getting dizzy?

This wasn’t going to work. The idea was crazy enough to begin with. The Ancient One had to be wrong. You were going to step into her office and nothing would happen. You would make a fool of yourself; you weren’t any more talented or skilled than any other sorcerer. Just half a year ago, you’d had no idea demons and magic were even real.

And now, you were expected to carry on the mantle as one of the most powerful sorcerers on Earth? How was that even possible? How could you ever be worthy enough to—

Wong opened a door using a complicated series of hand gestures, and as soon as you stepped through, your panicked mind fell silent. Energy thrummed along your skin, setting the hairs upright.

“Here it is.”

Wong’s announcement was unnecessary; you would know this place in your dreams, even though you had never been.

It was a simple room with a single large, circular window pointed towards the mountains over the city. Potted plants perched on most available surfaces that weren’t covered with books, scrolls, and odd knickknacks.

There was only a single writing desk pushed to the side, humble and unobtrusive. The rest of the room was empty space with a single well-worn green rug in the middle. But the plants made everything seem alive and verdant. It felt very much like a place the Ancient One would spend her time. It was a reflection of her, in a way. Quiet, but hidden with secret truths.

“Take a look around,” Wong said, but you were already moving. Slowly and with intense focus, you circled the room, reaching out and feeling, not with your hands but with your mind.

Odd and powerful energy pervaded the room, muted by spells but still apparent to you. They were coming from the artifacts that were laid out, seemingly casually, on the shelves and desks.

Most of them seemed as plain and unimportant as the room itself. A cracked vase with the lip stained red. A golden helmet that was varnished and faded, but two glittering horns jutted from the temples. A knobby staff with a smooth, grey stone fixed at one end, as modest as any walking stick except for the melodic hum that emanated from the stone. You had a feeling neither Wong nor Bucky could hear it.

But despite all the weird, wonderful oddities in your reach, you were drawn elsewhere. You approached one corner of the room where lay a pile of old scrolls and their cloth wrappings, and moved them aside with care to reveal what was hidden underneath.

It was a sword hilt. Just the hilt. There was no blade, not even a piece of broken metal. The metal was dulled with time and flaked with rust, the pommel grey and dirty.

You reached out and hesitated. Fingertips inches away, something stopped you. The knowledge that once you took hold of the relic, everything would change.

You glanced over your shoulder at Bucky.

He was watching you with close attention, as was Wong, but when he caught your eye he gave a small smile of encouragement. He supported you, even though he had to know what this meant, or at least had a good idea of it.

Not every sorcerer found their relic within the Ancient One’s study.

Comfort and warmth, so strong it could only be described as love, flooded across the bond and washed away your fears. You returned his smile, even if it was shaky, and you held on to that feeling as you turned back to the hilt.

You closed the distance, wrapped your fingers around the relic, and lifted it.

It was surprisingly heavy; that was your only observation before it began. The hilt thrummed in your palm, vibrating so fast you nearly dropped it.

The rust flaked away from the metal, leaving it polished and silver. The grey pommel was shaken of its dirt, and you realized it was white bone, the metal wrapping around it to form the grip and crossguard.

The thrumming didn’t stop, but you couldn’t let go even if you wanted to. Your fingers seized around the metal, energy teeming up your hand and arm. When it reached your right shoulder, all the way up to your pentagram, the sigil burned in a way it hadn’t done since the ritual.

Bucky must have sensed your panic because he rushed forward, but you backed away from him fast, instinct screaming at you to put a safe distance between you now.

It was a good thing you had; the energy from your sigil exploded down your arm, through your hand, and into the hilt. A burst of red light shot outward, forcing you to turn away from the blinding beam.

When the light dimmed and you could see again, blinking away the after images, you stared at the sword. That’s what it was now. A glowing red blade, seemingly made entirely of light. The energy that came from it was purely of the demon realm, scorching and sulfuric.

“What…” You choked the words past your dry throat. “What is this?”

There were only a handful of times you’d ever seen Wong shocked. So, that was three powerful sorcerers you’d rendered speechless in the span of a day.

“The blade of Hell, or so it is spoken. None in the history of the order had been able to unlock its powers, rendering it anything more than a broken hilt.” He leveled you with a somber stare. “It is called Daemonio Vexatur. Which means—“

“—to become a demon.”

Wong raised a brow.

“Rough translation, but yes.”

“So, it’s a demon sword?” asked Bucky, eyeing the glowing blade. He was understandably wary, and honestly, was accepting what was happening better than you were. You were still stuck on the fact that you were holding a glowing-freaking-sword in your hand.

“Yes. And no,” Wong said in traditional teaching-fashion. “A demon cannot wield it, but it takes demonic energy to power.”

“Oh. So that’s why my sigil and my entire arm feel like they’re on fire.”

Bucky’s mouth opened and he took a step forward, protectiveness sizzling along the bond, and you gave him a hurried smile.

“Kidding. Sort of.” You smiled wider through your clenched teeth. “It is really uncomfortable.”

Bucky’s dark look told you he didn’t believe you, and with what you imagined was coming from your end of the bond, you didn’t blame him. Holding the sword was like holding on to a live wire that was also burning. There was a molten jolt connecting the hilt to your sigil, and you were just hoping to not get incinerated in the process.

And just like that, the connection was gone, and the relief of your arm no longer being on fire was dimmed by the disappointment as the sword was extinguished, leaving nothing more than a gleaming hilt.

“What happened?” You frowned, eyeing the relic as if searching for an on switch.

“It will take time and training to effectively control your relic.”

“How long?” You looked up when Wong didn’t answer immediately, catching the serious dent in his brow.

“It’s hard to say. No one in living memory has wielded the blade, and it was believed no one ever would.”

Wong gave a heavy sigh.

“So of course, you would be the one to wield it.”

You returned your gaze to the relic and turned over the hilt in your hand, admiring the metal and bone. You wondered if the bone was from a demon, a safe bet considering.

“So.” You carefully put down the hilt and turned to give Bucky your best serious face. “How does it feel to have a wizard girlfriend with a lightsaber?”

Wong rolled his eyes. He knew you well enough by now to know what you were doing, but he didn’t comment on your attempts to over your fear with humor. He muttered something about reporting to Strange as he left the office.

But Bucky…

Worry and fondness conflicted across the bond, struggling to coexist. He stepped forward, the green cloth tunic he’d found in one of the drawers of your room stretched unfairly tight across his chest. It was the largest he could find in a hurry, and it was nearly enough to distract you from your own anxieties.

“I think…” Bucky wrapped his arm around you, drawing you into an embrace that you melted into easily. “That I’m scared for you. I’m confused as hell what this means, and I’m guessing this isn’t going to make your life any easier or less complicated. But… I’m also proud of you.”

You could sense the pride easily, but Bucky was trying to bury the fear that was close to terror. He truly was scared of what this meant. You were too, and the Ancient One’s words weighed heavily on your shoulders.

There was a questioning feeling tugging at your thoughts, and you remembered too late that Bucky could sense the same anxiety, even if he didn’t have all the details. So you smoothed out your tumultuous thoughts and covered them the best way you knew how.

“You say that to all the wizard girlfriends.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“That is what swords do.”

Bucky pulled back far enough to stare at you with narrowed eyes, but when he touched his horns to yours it was with such gentleness that you nearly forgot to breathe. But breathe you did, drinking in his familiar, soothing scent and allowed the tension to drain from your muscle.

“We should head back.” Bucky said after a moment of intimate, comfortable silence in which you finally relaxed. “Got a bastard to catch.”

You reluctantly let go first, knowing he was right and you couldn’t stay here forever. Turning toward the sword hilt, you reached for it and paused. You took a small detour and picked up an old, ratty cloth nearby and carefully wrapped the relic within. Until you had a better grasp of how to wield the sword, it was probably a wiser idea to not handle it directly. You had no idea if it was sentient like Strange’s cloak, and it would be better not to accidentally set it off. Slicing off your own leg was a poor way to convince anyone that you were the next Ancient One.

On your journey back down the halls toward the portal door, Bucky said, “So… what are you going to name it?”

He smiled at your sideways glance.

“All cool swords get a name. It’s kind of a universal rule.”

Maybe you didn’t know Bucky as well as you thought you did, because you had no idea he was such a damn nerd.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bestow all your sword knowledge on me.”

“Is that a sexual innuendo?”

“It is now.”

Bucky’s smile died on his lips when you were no longer at his side. He paused and looked back where you had stopped at the threshold to the portal room.

“What if I can’t do this?” The doorway before you was no longer just a doorway. It was an insurmountable hurdle, and your feet wouldn’t budge from the floor. “What if I fail?”

Bucky approached slow and steady, his expression gentle and fond.

“You won’t. You’re too stubborn to fail.” A warm hand softly cupped your cheek, his human one, and you leaned into it. He laughed silently at your predictable need to be touched, but his expression faded into something more serious. “But on the very slim chance you do, then you get back up and you start again. Just as you always have.”

Your stomach fell. Bucky couldn’t understand what failure meant in your case. You didn’t even know what it meant, but you could guess. If you failed to be the Ancient One everyone needed… then there might not be any second chances.

Bucky wrapped you in his arms one more time, undoubtedly sensing his words of encouragement hadn’t hit as effectively as he’d wanted.

“Whatever this means, you finding that relic… Whatever happens when we find Zemo...” Bucky’s voice was deep in his chest, a rumbling sound that never failed to comfort you. “I’ll be here.”

You returned his embrace, gripping him tightly as you pressed your cheek against his chest.

“I know.”

And you did, too. Bucky would be there for you. Not because he was compelled to be, and not out of a sense of duty or guilt to protect you. He would be by your side by choice.

And that fact made Zemo’s escape, the Ancient One’s words, and your own self-doubt a little easier to bear. Because you and Bucky would weather it.

Together.

“When wounds are healed by love, the scars are beautiful.” –David Bowles

#branded #demon!bucky x reader #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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spockandawe · 3 years

Note

Hi...if you don't mind me asking, can I ask, who are your top 5 favorite couples (can be canon or non-canon) from all of the danmei novels that you've finished reading until now? Thanks and sorry if you've answered this before...

ooh, this is hard, because if a pair sticks with me, it's usually because they're bringing some kind of DIFFERENT vibe, which makes it a lot harder to compare them. But let me give it a shot, and lemme try to be short-winded, i've been hard on my hands lately and things are le sore. And I'm going to restrict myself to canon just so things don't go totally off the rails.

5. Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji. Oh no, I feel bad that this is so low. I love them both a lot!!! I love a good opposites attract story, and I adore Lan Wangji's strength of emotion versus how little of it shows on his face. I love his quiet character growth and his stubbornness and the way he devotes himself to Wei Wuxian, and the way that Wei Wuxian is so hard to realize because he's got, ah, issues, that he thinks circles around because he's an unbelievably unreliable narrator who doesn't think he deserves nice things. But even through that, he takes such joy in life and cares so much for the people around him, and it makes for a lovely dynamic. It's very, very compelling to me, and I love them a lot, just, today I'm really feeling assholery and/or messy relationships, haha

4. Zhou Zishu/Wen Kexing. Oh, this is harder to talk about than everyone else on this list. They both have long histories of bloodshed, and violence, but somehow bring out this shining, youthful joy in life in each other. It was such a magnetic draw, but they were different enough that the process of drawing them together is fascinating to watch. They're both, objectively, very strange men, but incredibly in sync with each other. For some reason, the scene in the book where Wen Kexing bites Zhou Zishu's arm hard enough to make him bleed, and Zhou Zishu waits until he's done, then holds him close, and they fall asleep in each other's arms... there's something about the feeling of reading and deciding that these two were meant for each other that always does it for me.

3. Hua Cheng/Xie Lian. They're just......... so compatible. I usually like a lot more conflict in a relationship (see ship number one), but this just clicks into place so beautifully, it's impossible to say no. I adore them. The primary conflicts in this relationship are 1) fear of rejection, and 2) no, i AM mad that you aren't taking better care of yourself >:( How can I say no to that? And, of course, I love love love that Hua Cheng is unrelentingly soft for Xie Lian, and is an unrelenting asshole to basically everyone else, and that Xie Lian makes no effort to change him, he just loves him as he is.

2. Shen Qingqiu/Luo Binghe. Is tgcf objectively a better book? Yes, probably, but Luo Binghe hits my weak spot for massive damage. He breaks my heart, and there are very few characters in this books that I'm as desperate to see happy as I am with Binghe. And it's a very good ship for pondering post-canon character development, which is a very good way to get me fixated on a ship. Because they only barely settle into the shape of a relationship by the time everything is over, and everything is so fraught and complicated, and plot pushed them into a nasty corner before they were able to take control back, and they want to make it work. Luo Binghe was designed in a laboratory to target all my weak spots, and that's just the way it is.

1. Feng Xiao/Cui Buqu. Okay. Okay. In this day, in this moment, they're my favorite. These rankings change very much, all the time, but right now, I am living for their dynamic. They're such ASSHOLES! Like, with yanshen in the technically-prequel, you've got the one asshole boyfriend and the one decent person boyfriend. No. We're done with that. No half-assing it HERE, everyone is the FULL ASSHOLE, and i gasp out loud every time one of them makes a huge, sweeping gesture of trust, and then follows it up by refusing to say anything as straightforward as 'I appreciate you.' My favorite love language is 'I will allow you to stab me in the chest and won't blame you afterward.' My favorite love language is 'I will feed you this life-saving medicine in case it helps, even knowing it will leave me in a terrible position later.' My favorite love language is 'yes, you tortured me, but i get why, and i'm not going to blame you, i'm just going to get revenge.' My favorite love language is qi transfer. And this is also one of the few xianxia ships I've read where one boyfriend isn't a martial artist, and is actually super frail and delicate. And I have thoughts about this dynamic and feng xiao's hangups. I just... they're so good, you guys. I LIVE for reading about assholes in love. It's one of my favorite food groups.

#spock replies #peerless #svsss #tgcf #faraway wanderers #mdzs #wangxian #bingqiu #hualian #wenzhou #fengcui #womp womp i am bad at being short-winded

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kaibacorpintern · 3 years

Text

the wound

word count: ~2500

summary: kaiba has some pointed thoughts about yuugi’s recent cooking injury. platonic rivalshipping. post-DSOD

a/n: a woman has too many unfinished one-shots in her google drive so i’m making time to finish them instead of overthinking them (and never finishing them.) yes this is about cooking and yuugi and kaiba and depression. yes i have already written about this. whatever man. enjoy.

++++

Same time as usual. Two in the afternoon, on Saturdays. Same place as usual. The picnic table under the massive oak in the park, two blocks away from the Kame Game Shop and twenty minutes by subway from the station under the Kaiba Corp tower. Seto took the subway mostly out of scientific interest, taking a professional curiosity in the world Atem had wanted to live in, and because Atem had told him to enjoy it. What had he seen here, in the faded orange seats and bright pastel advertisements and the quiet scattering of human-not-Puzzle bodies? What had he felt, as the subway swayed around the curve in the tunnel, unseen in the darkness and known only by its momentum, making everyone sway with it? Hands curled around handrails and books. Fingers on phones. The train burst into daylight. The side of that girl’s head against the glass, watching Domino slide by with an equally glassy look in her eyes. Two layers between her and the city. Missing someone? Or just bored of life?

He slunk off the subway, unnoticed and unknown, in an immaculate white hoodie and aviators, stainless steel water bottle dangling from one hand. Yuugi was waiting for him at the park entrance, as usual, wearing some kind of fashionable belted dark purple romper, with the usual tote bag full of games hanging from one hand. On the other hand, something unusual: his fingers stuck out from a half-formed mitten of gauze, giving his slender hand a clumsy, snub-nosed silhouette. He was having trouble holding his iced tea, thumb and fingers alligator-clamped around the lid. Someone had drawn a pair of flowers in pink marker across the back of the mitten, a bumper sticker of cheerful admonition: 🌺 BE CAREFUL! 🌺 Not Yuugi’s handwriting.

“Hey,” Yuugi said. “How’re you doing? You sleeping better?”

Seto pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head, over his bangs, crown-like.

“On and off,” he said, which was true. His nights were now vast, tossing oceans of insomnia between shores of just good-enough sleep. Last night he’d simply given up trying to swim and instead, for the first time in years, read a book for amusement instead of education. Some sci-fi novel Yuugi had mentioned and Seto bought on a lark from the bookstore in the subway station. Most of his amusement came from correcting the bad science in the margins, until he woke up at dawn with his glasses bent and his bed linens blotted like calico cats with black ink. “What happened to your hand?”

“Oh, this?” Yuugi said, lifting his mitten-hand. “So, I was making a ceviche yesterday…”

He told the story as they walked through the park to the oak tree: the protagonist was a ripe avocado, its tough, disingenuous alligator hide concealing a soft, buttery-green flesh. The arc of the conflict: avocado against knife, a natural antagonist. The climax: the knife, ignorant of its own bluntness and made arrogant by the shine of its own steel, slid off its trajectory like a failing rocket and plunged at speed through plant skin and plant flesh straight into human skin and human flesh. The resolution: two identical cuts, a half-opened avocado and a half-opened hand. Man versus fruit.

"There was so much blood Otogi almost fainted," Yuugi said, thumping the tote bag onto the wooden table and straddling the bench sideways. "So we went to the ER and they stitched me up, and then when we got back home I finished making the ceviche. What game? You pick."

"Hive," Seto said. He couldn’t stop looking at his bandaged hand. It drew his attention like a glitch on a screen, an inescapable aberration. “Does it bother you?”

“I mean, it hurts, but whatever, you know?” Yuugi said, digging into his tote bag for the drawstring bag of wooden tokens. He spilled them onto the table in a clattering cascade of wood against wood. They rapidly sorted them out. “It’s not my first cooking accident.”

Seto raised his eyebrows. It was a testament to the amount of time they’d been spending together lately - every Saturday afternoon for a handful of hours, until he made some excuse to leave, and Yuugi accepted it not because he was gullible but because he knew Seto had a battery and it ran low - that he didn’t even need to ask a question, and Yuugi simply provided an answer, with examples.

“So, here, I was frying onion rings for Jounouchi, and I splattered hot oil all over my arm,” Yuugi said, lifting his hand and pointing out a haphazard constellation of white scars over his forearm. “Then here - I was baking cookies for Shizuka’s birthday and touched the tray fresh out of the oven with my bare hand, like a moron, I dueled Jounouchi after and drawing my cards was like, ow - ” he waggled his fingertips - “and this one is another burn - ” a long white ink-stroke across his wrist - “from when I was making ramen for Anzu, ‘cause she was home from New York. And this one - ”

More interesting than how and what were who. This burn for Honda’s birthday barbecue, that cut for Otogi’s game night. A violent kiss between blade and fingers behind a frothy veil of soapy water, cleaning up after a movie night. Another spray of oil splatters, frying tempura for his mother. A lot of meals for her, his grandfather, Jounouchi. Every scar Yuugi showed him had a name attached, almost all of them below the elbows, as though collected there for easy reference. Seto frowned as Yuugi's fingers flew over this map of friendships and family, their routes landmarked by midnight breakfasts, lazy brunches, beautifully-wrapped bento boxes. Something about it tasted sour to him, his tongue held tight and bitten between his teeth. All of his own scars had only one name.

“You probably think I’m a klutz,” Yuugi said, with a sheepish smile, sliding one of the wooden tokens into place around their hive.

“I told you to stop doing that,” Seto said briskly. “I’m not some dumpster for all your insecurities. You think you’re a klutz. You have no idea what I think.”

“I - ” Yuugi started, and huffed, with another smile, his chosen defense against causing offense. “Sorry, force of habit - ”

“Forget it. You don’t ever cook for yourself?”

“Duh. Of course I do. And I eat what I make with everyone else. It’s not like I make a pizza for all my friends and just sit there watching them while they eat it,” Yuugi said. “But I like cooking for people. I love... nourishing them. Knowing they’re not going to go to bed hungry or anything, and I can make something for them that makes them feel good.”

Seto tapped a wooden token on the table, under the guise of thinking about the game but really thinking about the kind of friends Yuugi made, and how he made them. Jounouchi. Honda. Atem. Himself.

“Did you ever cook for Atem?” he said, because he couldn’t help it, and braced against the soft look that came his way, with a default smile, a pre-emptive look, I'm fine. this didn’t hurt me smile.

“Yeah,” Yuugi said. “I did.”

Like what? Did he like it? Did he help cook or did he just watch? Just the two of you or with everyone else? Tell me. What did you nourish him with? What do you think he’s eating now? I ate pomegranates when I was there. Bread and honey and figs and garlic and beer. Nothing I ate makes me spend six months with the living and six months with the dead so instead I trade off day and night. Sometimes I leave for a few minutes, mid-afternoon, and I can hear my own name clattering through me as Mokuba calls me back. Seto kept all these comments to himself. There was only so greedy he could get with Yuugi’s grief; only so much he could share of his own.

He slid his wooden token into place around the honeycomb of pieces. Yuugi swiftly countered. Seto lapsed back into thought.

Yuugi took a quiet slurp of his iced tea, gave it a shake, rattling the ice until it settled, and took another, watching ducks paddle into the reeds at the edge of the pond and paddle out, a portrait of calm patience. It had taken him some time to get comfortable with Seto’s long silences. In concession, Seto made the effort to shorten them.

It was the kind of day where stepping into the shade made a difference. The air was darker and cooler under the trees and the flowering bushes that lined the park paths, while the rest of the earth baked in a cloudless dry heat. Seto made his move and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up to his elbows.

“How about I cook for you sometime?” Yuugi said brightly, nudging another wooden token against the others with a single fingertip.

Seto scowled, not at the suggestion but at the way his thoughts splintered apart, like two halves of a wooden log split by an axe. He had no doubt Yuugi would pull out the stops for him, slave and sweat for hours over some seventeen-course feast of modern art finger foods. Or maybe something cozy that made him feel like he was just nineteen instead of nineteen and exhausted. Whatever it was, Yuugi would put in the effort. But.

“No,” he said, and made sure to clarify this refusal before the clouds finished gathering over Yuugi’s face in a dejected overcast grey: “I don’t need one of your scars named after me.”

“I - what?” Yuugi said, flashing him an uneven, sideways smile, and Seto felt a flicker of irritation. Atem would’ve understood immediately. But, in fairness to Yuugi, he was being a little obtuse.

“You have a way of suffering for your friends,” he explained. “And I think part of you likes it.”

Yuugi straightened up in his seat, suddenly electric.

“What the hell? It’s just cooking,” he said, with a stormy flash of lightning in his violet eyes. “You’re reading into this way too much. I cook because it’s fun and artistic and I like feeding people, not because I like… self-flagellating or something. Seriously, you can’t just spout off - ”

“You misunderstand me,” Seto countered. “There’s no reason to… hurt yourself on my behalf. If you want to eat together, I’d rather go to that kitschy little ice cream place down the block and get a fucking waffle cone. I don’t want you unable to duel because you burned your hand trying to pan-fry a steak for me.”

Yuugi opened his mouth, brows furrowing together… and scoffed, a surprisingly affectionate sound. He rolled his eyes around the park, his gaze swinging across the sunlit grass, and looked back at Seto.

“Okay. First of all, I've mastered the art of the pan-fried steak, and you should try it,” he said. “Second of all, what makes you think you’re not someone worth suffering for?”

Seto snorted, masking his inwards flinch. Mokuba already suffered enough, thank you. And for what? A ghost of a brother. A black hole, a perpetual collapsing. Things went in and they crossed the event horizon and the pressure squeezed them for eternity without ever letting them reach the center and nothing ever came back out, as much as it wanted to. The scientific term for such distortion of effort, stretched to an immeasurable length without breaking, was spaghettification. Even a black hole needs to eat!

He slid one of his tokens back and forth with his fingertip, short, scraping jerks of wood against wood, thinking.

“Direct attack on my life points,” he muttered.

“Yeah, you also got me pretty good,” Yuugi chuffed. “Let’s call it even. But relax. It’s just cooking. I love the process, and I love the result, and I love doing stuff for my friends. It’s not some big… metaphorical… symbol of something. This - " he lifted his mittened hand - "doesn't mean anything except I mishandled a knife. It’s not like… you and Duel Disks.”

But Seto also loved the process and the result and more than once he'd injured himself, machining parts or fiddling with wires that, like all wild living things, bit back in fear of his touch. He splayed his hand over the table, watching blood drip onto his work station, knowing he should get up, clean it, bandage it. But it was only two in the morning and there was work to do.

“The Duel Disk is a symbol of Kaiba Corp’s future,” he said, closing his hand into a fist. "I know what you've done for your friends. I’ve seen it. Doesn't that merit the same... mythology?"

Yuugi gave him a funny look, half skeptical, half knowing.

"That’s nice of you, thank you," he said, and an uncomfortable blush crawled up Seto’s neck. Sometimes he did understand. “Are you sure you don't want me to cook for you?”

Seto opened his mouth, closed it, folded his arms on the table. He felt like he was trying to explain the feeling of the color blue, or the arguments for why numbers do or don’t exist, or what it was like to dream. Well, you see, the last time I saw Atem, he told me - correction: the last time as in the most recent link in a chain of time, not the last time as in the end of the line, because he also told me we’d see each other again - he told me to enjoy this, and you know me, I never do what I’m told. And I can’t do what he told me to do because he was my friend, and if friendship is just getting caught in a great sticky web of small cuts and large cuts and burns and bruises and tears and suffering because they’re here and suffering because they’re not, then just go ahead and let the spider drink me up and dump what’s left of me in the dirt. I am so sick and tired of pain. Mine. Yours. Ours.

But he did enjoy these afternoons. He was enjoying the process of making this: he had more with Yuugi now than he ever had before. He reached across the table and took Yuugi’s bandaged hand between his own hands, running his thumb carefully over the inked warning. Yuugi's hand relaxed in his. Yes, Yuugi was wrong. It was the same as Duel Disks. In any act of creation there was pain, there was power, and there was glory. What difference was there between a hologram of a dragon and a steaming bowl of soup? Both nourished something. Both were an answer to hunger. Discovering an emptiness and filling it.

“Okay,” he said, releasing Yuugi’s hand. “Alright. Cook for me.”

“Yeah?!” Yuugi said, with rising excitement, beaming. “What should I make? What do you like?”

“Make me a steak,” Seto said, smiling. It felt good to see Yuugi smile. His hypothesis neatly undermined. See? It’s not all damage. “No. Surprise me.”

#fanfiction #intern memo #rivalshipping #a lite snack... once i've written up a few more i'll cross post to AO3 #okay good Night i am. wiped the fuck out

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

Text

how many branches does an olive tree have? // draco malfoy

Summary: Hufflepuff!reader might be the only person that’s shown Draco some actual human kindness… maybe that’s why he’s so fond. Or maybe it’s the desserts.

Request: do u mind writing a draco malfoy or one of the weasley twins hanging out with (and eventually dating) hufflepuff reader and they always return to their common rooms with baked goods/little notes?

A/N: I thought I’d have a bit of fun with this one bc I’ve never written Draco before and I thrive off of slytherinxhufflepuff so I really hope the draco isn’t too ooc and that this isn’t too long also I diverged a little but I hope you like still ++++ this is less proofread than I would’ve liked

Reader: unspecified Hufflepuff

Warnings: mean draco??

It didn’t surprise anyone, least of all you, how much Draco Malfoy disliked you at first. He had a bit of a reputation and whilst you didn’t wish to speak ill of anybody, everybody you knew considered Draco Malfoy to be spoilt, snot-nosed, selfish, haughty and spiteful. But what you noticed whenever he would provoke Harry Potter, or walk through the corridors alone, or sit studying in the library until the early hours, was how sad he looked sometimes. And so, despite the awful things you’d heard about him, you always felt rather soft when you thought of him. Even when he was being a raging arsehole.

“Hi,” you said, smiling from your seat. You were oddly optimisitc about your first lesson with the Slytherins. “I’m Y/N.”

Draco looked at you as if shocked you were even daring to speak to him, his icy blonde eyebrows drawn down and his eyes stormy. “And?”

You leant back when he turned away, clearing your throat and shuffling the parchment around on the table. You decided it wouldn’t be helpful to remind him he wasn’t your first choice of partner in Muggle Studies, either.

“So, your task is to research ten muggle inventions-“ Professor Burbage began, only to be interrupted by Draco.

“Can’t imagine why they want us to do that,” he snorted, his friends sitting behind you hanging off his every word. “Muggles have never invented anything worthwhile.”

His friends guffawed, shocking the professor. You just frowned, watching how Draco thrived off of the attention with a strange sadness.

You didn’t see him again until around a week later when you retreated to the library for a few hours before curfew. You weren’t looking for him, but it was hard not to spot his platinum hair at a table, alone in the back. Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you debated just going to an empty table and leaving well enough alone, but then you remembered his sad eyes and your feet carried you over to him before you could stop them.

“Hey,” you said, biting your lip as you stood by one of the empty chairs, holding your books tightly. “Would it be alright if I sat here?”

He looked up at you sharply, the same half-confused, half-outraged expression in his eyes. His gaze was steady on your face for a moment before he huffed, returning to his work.

“If you must.”

You sat with him for hours in complete silence, both of you just doing your work. It wasn’t until the table began to shake with the movement of his elbow that you even looked at him. His face was scrunched up into a scowl as tried to scratch the rest of the ink from his empty pot. The sound of the quill hitting against the glass was loud and you knew Madam Pince would be over sometime soon to scold him. You figured that he’d never ask to use your inkpot, far too proud to ask for help, and so you just slid it over gently so it settled in the centre of the table, your intention obvious. His eyes on you were heavy, even as you tried to work out exactly why you would add Valerian Root to Draught of the Living Dead. The clinking of his quill stopped as he stared at you and despite yourself, you glanced up at him and offered a polite smile before turning back to your parchment.

Draco had no idea what to make of it. As he watched you scribbling on some parchment, confusion settled on his brow. Why, he thought, would a Hufflepuff he barely knew offer to help him? Part of him wanted to shove the inkpot back, too stubborn to accept help from someone like you, but the other part of himself, a part he didn’t get along with all too well, told him to shut up and take it.

And as you looked up, shooting him a brief smile that only served to deepen the crease on his forehead, he gave in and dipped his quill into the inkpot without another word. He tried not to look at you after that, sure you would enjoy seeing Draco Malfoy so weak. He could practically feel the ashamed flush on his cheeks and he hated it. But you could tell, despite his gruff façade, that he was grateful because when he stood up to leave, he stared at you for slightly too long as he placed the inkpot nearer to you and all but ran from the library without a single snarky comment or dirty glance.

Thanks only to your determination, that happened a few more times. Sure, Draco made absolutely certain to bring his own inkpot, but he looked less murderous each time you asked to sit down. One cold night with a bitter wind and a Transfiguration test you’d completely forgotten hounding at your heels, you rushed to the library. You were stopped only once on the way directly outside your common room by one of your favourite house-elves, who shoved a mini-basket of cookies into your hands, insisting that you stay warm in the cold temperatures. Whilst you were still panicking about the test, you couldn’t help but feel warm inside at the gift, a smile lifting your cheeks at how sweet it was. You rushed to your usual table, throwing the basket and your bag onto the desk and meandering through the shelves to find any books you could on the history of Transfiguration. Happy with the eight you’d found, and perhaps a little concerned you’d gone overboard, you retreated back to the table, pleasantly surprised to see a familiar mop of platinum blond.

“Hello, Draco,” you said, smiling as you set the books down. He didn’t look at you, only nodding, his focus on a textbook in front of him. You grinned anyway, enjoying the little routine you’d formed with him. It must’ve been only twenty minutes later when you crunched down on one of the biscuits you’d been given, surprised to meet a pair of grey eyes when you looked back up. He frowned at the cookie in your hand as you smiled bashfully, not intending to be caught.

“Oh,” you said, scolding yourself for being rude. “Would you like one?”

His head shot up at your question, that permanent frown still in place. He didn’t answer at first and you were afraid for a moment that you’d broken one of the unspoken rules of your acquaintanceship; the ones that only Draco seemed to know. To say you were shocked when he nodded very subtly was an understatement, but anyone with half a brain could tell how glad you were as you offered him the basket.

He looked down at the cookie in his long, pale hand as if it would bite him back. Before he ate it, though, he settled his wrists on the edge of the table and stared at you with a curiosity you’d never seen on him before.

“It’s Y/N, right?” he asked, wetting his lips.

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly, stunned that he’d remembered. You watched him think for a moment; you could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he broke off a piece of the biscuit and brought it to his lips. It was obvious that he was deciding something but you didn’t understand what until he met your eyes again.

“Did you make these?”

His voice was stiff and unsure and you could tell how out of his depth he felt, whether it was saying more than two words to you or attempting small talk that was so unfamiliar you couldn’t say.

“No, one of the house-elves gave them to me.”

“House-elves?” he said, voice full of disgust. You frowned.

“The little creatures that work in the kitchens.”

“I know what they are,” he hissed, scowling. He swallowed harshly when he saw your face fall and for a second, he regretted his venom. “So, you’re- you’re what? Friends with them?”

As abhorrent as the idea clearly seemed to him, you appreciated how conflicted he looked, vindicated slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy actually considering someone else’s feelings.

“Yep, they’re lovely,” you beamed, stirring something inside him. “And ever so kind.”

He just nodded, biting into the biscuit you’d given him and mulling over what you’d told him. Him saying nothing, you decided, was certainly leagues better than saying something horrible.

When he left that day, you made sure to force him to take a few more cookies, well aware that you couldn’t eat them all on your own and hoping more than anything that he’d accept it as an offering of friendship.

“Take more, please, go on.”

“I don’t…“ he trailed off, looking at you with a guarded expression.

“Please?” you begged, lifting the basket towards him. “For me?”

His eyes darted to yours as he inspected your pouting features and wide eyes, a strange fondness pulling at his chest. The way his mouth curled up ever so slightly before it was replaced with his signature grimace didn’t escape you and you grinned as he grabbed a few more, filling his pockets. He took a couple steps away before stopping short and spinning on his heel to face you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, looking very out of place, his words rushed and foreign. You didn’t mind, though, as he walked away. You just sat there, head in your books and a growing smile on your lips. You’d have to bring more desserts, you thought.

No one had confused Draco Malfoy quite like you. Not even Potter had the same irritating effect on him. And unfortunately, despite his efforts, people were starting to notice.

“Draco, what are you staring at?” Pansy asked him during breakfast, drawing his eyes away from your laughing face, your bright yellow tie.

“Nothing,” he huffed. “What are you looking at?”

Annoyance sparked in him as they laughed at his poor attempt to deflect the question.

“Is it that Hufflepuff you’re always eyeing?” Pansy pressed, an undercurrent of jealousy behind her wary curiosity.

“What?” his eyes flicked back to see you smile at him and once again, a strange feeling flooded his system.

“Don’t be stupid,” he said with much less bite than he usually would’ve. “What would I want with a Hufflepuff?”

As they laughed, moving on to another topic, he asked himself the same thing.

The next few times you saw Draco properly were in the library; he would only talk to you there, lest someone saw you and his precious reputation be ruined. You didn’t care about someone seeing you spending time together, but you let it be given how important it was to him. It was hard to say that it didn’t bother you at all, though, especially with how well you and he seemed to get along, particularly when you brought him treats. First, it was just whatever the house-elves would be kind enough to give you; biscuits here, a slice or two of cake there. When you noticed that Draco seemed to have a taste for chocolate, you started making specific requests, always making sure to give the elves clothes and some company in return. Seeing Draco walk out of the library with full pockets and a barely suppressed smile was the highlight of your day and it had, surprisingly, become an everyday occurrence. You would even go as far as to call you and Draco friends.

“Y/N,” Draco said, frowning as he wrote his Astronomy essay. You hummed, looking up to see his eyes on you. Your heart warmed at how comfortable and relaxed he looked, a far cry from how tense he��d been to start with.

“Do you know which constellation that old bat Sinistra told us to include?”

You rolled your eyes at his name-calling, shaking your head. “Nope, sorry, I’m absolutely hopeless at Astronomy. Haven’t even started the essay.”

He grimaced for a moment before pausing and brushing at the feathers of his quill nervously with his thumb.

“I could help you,” he said, gauging your reaction. “My Father says Astronomy is a subject so useless that even muggles can do it-“ he stopped himself then. He wasn’t quite sure why he cared what you thought of him, but he knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t appreciate him talking badly about muggles and so, even though everything he’d ever said was just a regurgitation of his Father’s words, he clamped his mouth shut.

“I’m quite good at it,” he said, softer this time. “I’d be happy to teach you a thing or two.”

In all fairness to you, whilst you knew that Draco had the capacity for kindness, you didn’t quite expect him to extend it to you and certainly not enough to answer his offer with anything but a series of blinks. He was growing nervous at your lack of reply, already thinking about how foolish he’d been to even offer. Why was he even hanging around with a Hufflepuff anyways? If his father found out, he would be furious-

“I’d love that,” you said gently, interrupting his downward spiral. He visibly perked up at your response and even his face looked younger as you drew your first full smile from him. You couldn’t help but think that he looked rather more handsome when he smiled.

“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Meet you at the Astronomy Tower tonight?”

He noticed your reluctance, frowning immediately.

“What if we get caught?”

You expected his cocky grin even less than you expected his offer in the first place.

“It’ll be fine.” he said, before his face softened. “Trust me.”

The rest of the day, you tried to convince yourself that you were nervous at breaking curfew and not at the prospect of seeing Draco outside your usual library hours. As you crept towards the Tower, flinching and ducking away from every sound that echoed through the castle corridors, you pulled at your jumper, stretching it over your hands with nervous fingers. You were barely halfway through the doorway when something behind you made a loud thudding noise and you turned, not paying enough attention as you slammed into someone. A squeak left your mouth at the impact but before you could make more of a racket, a hand covered your lips and you were left staring up at Draco Malfoy, shocked that you hadn’t noticed quite how tall he was before.

He looked at you with dark eyes and you realised that even without his hand covering your mouth, you wouldn’t have been able to breathe anyway, not with him looming over you like that. As if it didn’t faze him at all, he pulled his hand away from your mouth to his lips, shushing you gently. You nodded, not trusting your voice. Beckoning you to follow him up the stairs, you shadowed him quietly, distracting yourself with the view. When you reached the top, you lunged towards one of the windows, gasping as you looked at the whole of Hogwarts beneath you.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, leaning over the stone windowsill, your face against the wind. Draco didn’t say anything for a moment.

“You look different without your robes.”

You turned to him, surprised to see him watching you so intently. Not knowing what to say, you just smiled. He cleared his throat.

“Let’s get started.”

You started off well-intentioned, listening to him dutifully explain the difference between Ursa Major and Minor, the story of Andromeda and what not, but you couldn’t help but get distracted by the view, the stars spread out around you.

“Are you even listening?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You smiled bashfully at getting caught, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Of course, I am,” you insisted, placing your palm on his bicep, a touch that didn’t go unnoticed. “Carry on.”

He stared at you for a moment, shaking his head. A fond smile pulled at his lips as he stood up, offering you his hand. You hesitated before taking it, letting him haul you to your feet. With your hands still intertwined, he dragged you over to the edge of the tower, pulling you so you leant on your elbows next to him, your arms touching. It seemed as if you were both avoiding ignoring the feeling fo your palms pressed together.

“That,” he said, pointing up to a series of stars with his free hand. “Is Draco.”

You looked at him as he stared up at his namesake, watching his expression flood with a pride.

“The dragon,” you whispered, eyes widening as his head swung around, leaving the both of you closer together than anticipated. He let himself examine your face, taking in every detail, from your brow to your cheeks to your lips; ever so slowly, memorising every curve.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said, his eyes soft. You bit the inside of your cheek, smiling slightly.

“No one else brings you cakes? That’s a tragedy.”

He huffed a laugh, the corners of his lips curling up.

“I’m inclined to agree.”

harry potter tag list:

@creator-appreciator

@decadentwastelandtrash

@loveisblindness

@xinyourdreamsx

@brainlesspasta

@hariosborn

@staringmoony

@rexorangecouny

@alittletoomanyobsessions

@peachesandpinks

#Harry Potter imagine #harry potter #imagine #writing #Draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader

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malghra · 3 years

Text

a chorus so sublime: chapter 1

I must admit, I can't explain

Any of these thoughts racin' through my brain

It's true

But, baby, I'm howlin' for you

Alright

There's something wrong with this plot

The actors here have not got

A clue

Baby, I'm howlin' for you

For Darklina Week, Day 1, Songs & Lyrics, Title from Breath of Life by Florence + The Machine

Chapter title and lyrics from Howlin' for you by The Black Keys.

This fic starts in episode 5, so you can assume that the story is mostly canon compliant up until episode 4. Any changes pre-episode 5 that will be referenced in the story will probably concern Mal. I lowkey ship show!Malina, they're very cute, but then again I lowkey ship almost everyone with everyone on this show 😂 Darklina is just the only ship compelling enough to tempt me into writing. Anyways, I'm probably going to write Mal closer to his book counterpart, just because I feel the relationship needed a bit more conflict and it will add to Alina's inner struggles.

For now, what you need to know about Mal is that he did sleep with Zoya and that he didn't react well to the revelation of Alina's powers. Just remember that for future reference.

What else? Alina is going to leave the Little Palace at some point, and after that, events will unfold similarly to what happened on the show from episode 6 onwards, but I wanted to develop the Darklina relationship a bit more before it all falls to pieces and I try to come up with a way to put those pieces back together.

The first chapter is Aleksander's POV of his and Alina's first kiss.

I spent a bit of time debating what Aleksander should call himself in his POVs. I honestly couldn't see him referring to himself as the Darkling. I also decided that in the universe of this fic, he hasn't told Alina his real name yet. I imagine that at the beginning of this story, he mostly identifies with his title, and not with his true name, so for now, he'll be referring to himself as The General.

Chapter is below the cut, I hope you'll enjoy this!

The day of the winter fete had arrived, and the General had been up since before sunrise. Despite his mixed feelings regarding such events—especially ones such as today when his Grisha were expected to perform like a troup of otkazat'sya clowns, there was a tinge of excitement to his disgruntled thoughts.

Today was the day Ravka and the rest of the world would learn what the Sun Summoner could do. She still had a lot to learn, she still needed time to grow, but she could give them a good show. Their audience of royals, nobles and foreign dignitaries would be easily enough beguiled by the light spectacle they had practiced.

It was a new start, a day of hope and promise, but that wasn't the reason he had risen before dawn. Sleep tended to elude the General for long bouts of time every couple of years. It didn't matter though. He didn't need much of it anyway, but it was an easy way to pass time when he got bored or tired of life.

Fortunately for him, that was not the case right now. These were exciting times. He had never been closer to achieving everything he'd been working for during the last couple of centuries.

He finished his cup of tea, and as he passed the mirror, he reached up to close the top button of his shirt he must have missed earlier.

He heard the soft padding of footsteps in the other room. It was almost time.

"Ivan!" he called out. "My kefta."

As he turned away from the bed, he found himself eye to eye, not with his loyal Heartrender, but with his Sun Summoner.

"You're not Ivan," he blurted out, taken aback by her sudden and unexpected presence in his bedroom.

"Sorry to disappoint," she retorted sardonically. Saints! Why was she always saying or doing the unexpected thing, usually displaying an utter lack of the deference he was so used to being treated with by everyone else around him? And why did that make him want to smile instead of chiding her and reminding her of decorum and etiquette?

"Do I sense a little disdain for my Heartrender?" he asked, mostly to distract himself from his train of thought. "You know, once you get to know him he's actually quite funny."

Ivan Krasimirov tended to have little patience with people and he didn't care much for pointless social interactions, but the General had known him since he was a boy and he liked to imagine he knew the reserved Heartrender better than anyone else. And Ivan was a loyal man, who understood the cause and had display unseen measures of dedication.

"I bet you find volcra hilarious," his Sun Summoner huffed.

Her innocently intended quip stung, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, but he managed a wry smile. It was rather hilarious after all, perhaps even more so if one knew.

"May I?" she asked. For the first time since she'd entered, he noticed that she was holding his kefta.

"Thank you." His arms felt oddly stiff as he turned around and reached back so she could help him into the garment.

"I hear you were able to focus and split light without the gloves," he told her. She had shown tremendous progress in the last couple of days, but it was better to be prepared. He'd ordered Kostyk to make the gloves weeks ago, just in case.

"I appreciate the gesture, though."

"Well, they were only a safeguard, really," he assured her. "In case of nerves." She was standing closer than he'd expected when he turned to face her again.

"I imagine there are few gatherings in Keramzin that involve such..." He found himself looking for a word that wouldn't sound as an insult to the humble childhood she still seemed to be clinging to so stubbornly. That stubbornness had its charm at times, but in this case he couldn't really appreciate it. "Spectacle," he decided.

"None, in fact," she answered with that some sarcastic aplomb from earlier, and then she whirled around and darted away from him.

Frowning, but intrigued, he followed her out of his bedroom.

Despite her sudden jitteriness, she confessed that she wasn't nervous anymore, though she had considered throwing herself down the stairs to get out of it. Almost certain that this was just her odd sense of humour, he reminded her that he had healers.

He tried not to smile as she laughed at his retort. He studied her as she stood with her back to him, wondering at her suddenly anxious demeanour and the tension he could feel rolling off her body.

He sat down on the edge of the table, listening as she explained why she wasn't nervous anymore. Confusing, unfamiliar warmth pooled in his chest as she spoke but he tried to ignore it.

"That we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope for the future," she concluded her little speech. She was so close to where he wanted her. He almost had her. He knew he would be able to make her see reason. What she was sharing with him, the fact that she was sharing it with him at all, it all made him hopeful.

Triumph made his chest swell, and his power hummed just below the surface of his skin, ready to surge, to call out, but he wouldn't show her the immense satisfaction that overtook him in this moment. He settled for a heartfelt, "That means a lot to me, Alina," turning her name into a soft caress.

She turned around, half surprised, half... proud, he decided, satisfied that she had pleased him. He could take it a step further.

"You mean a lot," to me, he meant to say. It should be easy to feed her the lie that had come to carry more truth in it than he cared to admit. He needed her, but that should be the end of it. Hadn't he taught himself to stop wanting a long time ago?

She'd lowered her eyes, making it even easier for him, but he found himself incapable of saying the words. "To everyone," he concluded.

She blinked and met his gaze again. Before he could even try to decipher the look on her face, she had closed the distance between them, her hand on his collar.

Some deeply ingrained instinct almost made him recoil. He wasn't used to this. It had been a long time since anyone dared to approach him in such a way.

And then that pull was drawing him in again, that tug he had felt from the first moment he had laid eyes on her, that he had dismissed until he had touched her arm and knew, even before cutting her skin. The confusion and discomfort that always came with it must be clear on his face, but if she had seen them, she must have decided to ignore them.

Then she surprised him by kissing him, softly and tentatively, tender fingertips gently grazing his beard. He couldn't remember when he had last been kissed like that.

He had expected that sense of elation so akin to the triumph and satisfaction he'd felt earlier. He should have predicted the ringing in his ears, the thumping of his heart, the tingle running through his veins as her power called to his, begging to answer her call, as overwhelming as it was.

But the urge to respond to her kiss, the desire to surrender, the sudden, vast fear that gripped him, they all took him by surprise.

Something that had laid dormant for ages bubbled up from a place deep inside of him, frustratingly elusive and only vaguely familiar. It slipped away from him like water he tried to cup in his hands before he could recognize it.

He might have started kissing her back—he was too stunned to tell—but then her lips left his, and she nudged his nose with hers as she pulled away. His eyes flew open at the sudden loss of contact. He couldn't remember closing them.

She was searching his face, colour high on her cheeks. As he rose to his full height, he could see that sliver of doubt growing, that fear of rejection creeping up on her, even as hope sparkled in her eyes, her lips curling into a cautious smile.

He offered her a smile back, let the surprise he didn't need to feign show on his face.

"Not many people surprise me, Miss Starkova," he told her.

Her face lit up, and he followed her example as she lowered her eyes, allowing himself a pleased grin. He started leaning in to initiate a second kiss.

The door was pushed open and Alina jumped back, turning her back to him.

He cleared his throat, pushing his shoulders back to compose himself.

For the briefest moment, Ivan's eyes flitted from him to Alina, but he hid his reaction well.

"Excuse me, General," he apologized. "Your presence is required at the fete."

"Of course. Thank you, Ivan."

He glanced back to find Alina's cheeks flushed and her eyes on her feet.

"Miss Starkova," he said coolly, and she bit her lip.

"Next time, knock before you enter my chambers," he snapped at the Heartrender on his way out the door.

"Apologies, moi soverenyi," he mumbled.

The General dismissed the man with a nod. He should be thanking Ivan. He had almost acted on impulse, like some common fool. So then why was he clenching his fists to keep from strangling his most loyal Heartrender?

#darklina #alina x the darkling #alina starkov x aleksander morozova #darklinadaily #darklinaweek2021 #darklina fic #a chorus so sublime #chapter 1

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meruz · 4 years

Note

any advice for comic layouts?? i really like the way you do ur comics

this is a really interesting question!! and it took me a lot of thinking as to how to answer.... I don’t know if I can give advice per se because I feel like I’m still figuring out a comics process myself, but I can try to walk you through what I’ve done thus far

Lets take this one page comic..

my comic process tends to be 2 tiered. once I have an idea of what I want to draw, I have a brainstorming/sketch phase where I will essentially just jot down whatever layouts and images first come to mind and experiment with them, making a bunch of drawings that have minor tweaks (shown above as Draft 1).You can see I really wanted to sell the deadpan expression in the last panel so I sketched out a couple different iterations. And I wanted to explore what the latte art would look like and how it would transform. A lot of this is not very well drafted, just ugly shorthand just to see what resonates with me visually. I generally do this on paper (often with pen) so I don’t feel the compulsion to fiddle with any particular drawing too much. less focus on perfecting and more focus on iterating.

Once I think I’ve got a good idea of the visuals, I’ll bring it into the computer where I can copy paste and move things around with transform tools in order to come up with a rough layout. My thought process kind of goes like this

I know I want the 1st and 4th panel to hit hard so I prioritize them in the layout and make them break the gutters. the other panels I keep contained and focus on pacing/contrast to tell their story. I think a comic page can generally have only one or two big moments before it becomes cluttered so it’s important for me to establish those first and work around it.

Similar goes for a slightly longer comic.

The process remains pretty much the same. This one is a scene adapted from a videogame cutscene so I’m working from a bit of a script and a bit of the cutscene compositions. I spend a bunch of time at my sketchbook brainstorming and I figure out pretty early on I’ll probably need two pages between the dialogue I want to fit in, the set up of the threat, and the big line drop. I know I want a panel where asch is standing in the middle of the room surrounded by enemies so I do some sketches to test out his silhouette and try to figure out if I want him to be half turned to the camera or fully turned when he says his big line. By the end of it I’m starting to piece together a layout.

Thought process is as follows:

Every piece of art has to be planned around the format through which its consumed and for comics on the internet its either a scroll or a click. I’m posting this comic in two pages so I want to plan for my impact to be made on clicking from one page to the next which spurs me to put the close-up at the head of the 2nd page. Since I want to build tension up to that reveal I consciously decide to make most of the panels on the first page small and obscure stuff like faces so things feel rushed and uncertain. for comics small panel = fast and big panel = slow. in terms of how the reader processes the information. I save the single big panel on the 1st page for the establishing shot of the conflict and add in a panel at the bottom to start the proverbial drum beat for the 2nd pg reveal.

I make the 2nd panel on the 2nd page a big one to let the page turn line ring in the air and also to solidly establish how the perspective of the battle turns when you realize the character’s resolve.

Of course, I didn’t think any of that stuff to myself as I was making it. I think a common misconception I want to dispel is that, contrary to how it appears when people break down comic pages, few artists will explicitly plan out the way your eye is supposed to move across the page. I think more likely is that if you read a lot of comics and you draw a lot of comics you form a visual (non-verbal! often unconscious) understanding of what has impact and what will create tension and which speechbubbles to read first. And putting it to paper is just trial and error coming off of that instinct. Maybe. I don’t know.

Sorry this is really rambly. And I don’t really have any advice... I guess if I had to sum it up... be aware of what you want the reader to focus on, where you want the reader to gasp and where you want them to laugh. what you want the reader to know vs not know. this sort of stuff should inform your decision making the most.

Also don’t take my advice. There’s a lot of people who are way better at this stuff than me. I recommend reading comics you like and studying them! And heres some resources also I guess

- Understanding Comics/Reinventing Comics/Making Comics by Scott Mccloud

I specifically had Making Comics on my shelf (one of my RISD classes forced me to buy it lol) but the others are great too. I think some may look at the Scott Mccloud books and call them basic but that’s just another way to say /fundamental/. They’re great at explaining the bare bones of comics and entertaining to boot so always worth at least a look, I think.

- Framed Ink by Marcos Mateu-Menstre

This book is less about comics and more about general visual storytelling... iirc Mateu-menstre mainly does storyboarding professionaly. But it’s a great overview of the composition of visual storytelling. This guy is also like a perspective extraordinaire.

- Wally Wood’s 22 panels that always work

This is just this one cheat sheet image but it’s worth studying. Wally Wood was a Silver Age american comics artist who made this page with his assistant in part to coach younger Marvel comics artists.

OK IM DONE TALKING :’ ) happy october everyone

#Anonymous #yet another longass blog post I guess #shut up meru

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daddysfangirls-anime · 3 years

Text

To bare my hate (2/3)

Warning: Angst, language, mention suicide, attempted suicide, mention of child abuse, death, murder, blood

Mirio x reader

1 | 2 | 3

Taking Nezu and Aizawa’s advice Mirio was determined to spend more time with (Y/n) but only to prove to them that she was a Villain and had bad intentions.

“What are you doing” Mirio demanded as he found (Y/n) sitting in the grass outside writing in a journal and watching people.

“Getting sun. Vitamin D is very important for the immune system,” she stated looking up and smiling gently up at him. Looking at her notebook and quickly snatches it from her looking at what despicable plans she was writing down. Instead, he finds pictures, more specifically, sketches of different people ranging for students to teachers, they were really good. Mirio scoffed and tossed the book back at her hitting her in the head. She mumbled a soft ‘ouch’ rubbing the spot on her head that was hit she still smiled at him sweetly.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

“What are your plans?”

“Well, I’ve finished my homework so I don’t have much to do for today. Maybe I’ll take a nap after this. Unless you want me to do something for you that is”

No, Villain would give up their plan so easily although she seemed nice he knew it could all be an act. He had made the mistake of misreading a situation before and lost Eri the first time he would not do it again.

He took a seat on the grass next to her and said nothing. She didn’t say anything either continuing her drawing and watching people.

“Why are you drawing these people?” Mirio asked

“People are interesting. People look interesting. Everyone is different. If you look close enough you can see even the smallest differences.” he looked at her confused.

“For example, Present Mic is more tired than Aizawa. You see, Although Aizawa is always sleeping about he is always alert, well-minded, and his work is done. Present Mic, on the other hand, is always drinking coffee, speaking often loudly and rapidly, acting erratically, forgetting, and falling behind in work. Plus Aizawa has two jobs a hero and teacher Mic has four a hero, teacher, Dj, and running a radio station. Aizawa and Mic just handle stress differently. Aizawa often avoids unnecessary stress if possible with his naps while Mic likes to run into stress head first or panic. Honestly, if it wasn’t for Aizawa and Midnight that man wouldn’t function properly.”

She turned her journal towards him showing him a sketch of Mic sleeping at his desk Aizawa putting a blanket over him and Midnight closing his laptop.

“You seem to know a lot about the staff here”

“Well, I do spend a lot of time with them. They are my family.” (Y/n) began to gather up her things and stood up “ This was nice we should do it again sometime. Bye, Bye Mirio.”

Mirio wanted her to stay talk to her more possibly get more out of her but he couldn’t find a way to keep her there and instead watched her walk away. She seemed so kind, so nice, and innocent but Mirio knew better this had to be an act of some sort. She was playing everybody and he was going to expose this game sooner or later. He was going to learn her secrets. She was a villain and he was going to prove it.

Mirio continued the action of spending time with (Y/n), even though he didn’t like her or want to, learning as much as he could or what she would tell him. Mirio's treatment towards her was unkind and a few people witness. He had a habit of insulting and belittling her and even physically hurting her, but nothing too serious( the small physical assaults stopped after Tamaki stepped in). But the most upsetting part was that (Y/n) took it all with a smile she never spoke ill of Mirio, never told on him, or fought back. She took it and never said a word just smiling and letting him go on.

“You’re not being very nice,” Nejiro said scolding Mirio as they watched (Y/n) walk away smiling as usual. (Y/n) hadn’t done very well on a test when the results fell out of her binder Mirio picked them up and began making fun of her for her low scores.

“I’m trying to provoke her so she’ll so her true colors”

“It didn’t look like that” Tamaki mumbled to himself but the others still heard him, they choose to ignore the comment.

“She’s a villain how is no one else seeing this?!”

“Probably because they’re so focused on the guy that’s bullying her,” Aizawa said casually walking by them

“Who?” he stopped and looked directly at Mirio.

“You. You are so convinced she’s a villain that you didn’t take a moment to think that maybe she’s a victim.” Aizawa said walking away shaking his head with a look of disappointment.

“He’s right,” Tamaki said he was now facing the wall appearing in a slump.

“You should talk to her and actually get to know her. Ask her what really happen? You might find out something new and interesting” Nejiro said poking his cheek before leaving him in the hall very confused and conflicted.

“Are you a villain?” Mirio said barging into (Y/n)’s room she was lying across her head she slowly sat up.

“No”

“Your parents were heroes and good people and you killed them.”

“... I let them die but I didn’t kill them.”

“How is that not the same thing?”

(Y/n) dragged her feet she didn’t want to go home she wasn’t ready to go home but it was too late she had done everything in her power to stall going home. Staying late at school doing homework, studying, and helping teachers, Taking a long way home, pretending to get lost, offering help to those she pasted. But now there was nothing more she could do and she had to meet her faint.

As she took slow steps home it began to rain but she didn’t pick up her pace if anything she took smaller steps and let the rain soak through her clothes she didn’t care.

Honestly, (Y/n) was praying neither of her parents was home and they instead got called away on some useless job. (Y/n) parents are famous pro-heroes their high popularity stemmed from them being an adorable couple with compatible quirks. But what happened on the outside was always very different than what happened on the inside. On the outside, they were heroes they saved people and worked for justice on the inside they were none of the such she had the scars and bruises to prove it. Looking can be deceiving.

As she crossed the bridge leading to her house she stopped and looked over the edge.

Maybe this life wasn’t cut out for her. Maybe that was what all this was life telling she wasn’t wanted and that she should go before it got any worse. She steps to the railing. Maybe she should join Ken. Ken was a friend of her life got too hard for her both home and school the bullies were too much and she deicide it was all the signs of life telling her to give up and give up she did jumping off of this very same bridge and year and a half earlier.

But as much as she wanted too she couldn’t join Ken she had promised her she’d become a hero for her. And she was working towards that goal attending UA, although it was a bit of set back being put in the general education course she would continue to work towards her goal and make Ken happy somehow.

Stepping back from the railing she continued her slow walk home.

When (Y/n) finally arrived home she found her front door ajar slowly and quietly she steps in the house. In the hallway by the front door, she found her father a large amount of his left side was missing and blood was everywhere. He was dead. But she wasn’t phased she didn’t care carefully stepping over his body and around the blood, she continues into the house.

She hears whimpering in the living room and follows the sounds. There she finds three men in plague doctor masks. Two standing against the wall and one kneeling over her mother who was beaten and bloody laying on the floor.

Ignoring the men she looks down at the woman laying on the floor. The woman reached for her with shaky hands

“..Mother?”

There was a cry and then her blood was everywhere and her head was gone.

“Oh” was all (Y/n) could say as she looked at the blood-stained couch. She was unphased by the woman's murder, honestly, she couldn’t call her mother and probably shouldn’t she never was.

The man stood and slowly walked towards her “ I just killed your mother yet you don’t seem phased. why is that ?”

“She was never a mother, to begin with, nor he a father... Are you going to kill me too? Can we do it somewhere else I don’t want to die next to them.”

He stepped forward raising his hand towards her cheek just inches away from touching her “You’re... interesting”

“ I... I just didn’t care at that point... God, that’s terrible isn’t it” (Y/n) said laying on her back covering her eyes at the ceiling a small smile on her face.

Mirio was really confused now. He was upset to hear that her parents, pro heroes at that, were abusing her but he was also angry thinking she had walked away with Overhaul after she witnesses him kill her parents. It was all confusing.

“Your parents were hurting you and you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked now sitting at her desk.

“I didn’t think anyone would care, they were pro heroes and I was a little girl who already had a bad record. I was blamed and accused of a lot of things I didn’t do at school. After they were killed it was found out because our house had security cameras Overhaul had taken the footage from that night but left everything else. The police found it but didn’t do anything with it because they were already dead. They didn’t make it public as they didn’t want to ruin their image after death.” she sighed

“Why did you join Overhaul? You watched him kill them.”

“No one ever cared abomhut me before he came along. Not even the heroes were good to me. He took care of me he was so good to me” (Y/n) closed her eyes as tears slowly streamed down her face “ He was so good to me, no one was ever good to me. I-I didn’t deserve such goodness, I don’t deserve it”

As (Y/n) began to sob Mirio didn’t know what to do rolling over he puts a gentle hand on her shoulder as she continues to cry. And they just sit there without words.

#boku no hero academia #mirio fanfiction #mirio togata #bnha mirio #mirio x reader #bnha fanfiction #bnha #mha fanfiction #mha #my hero academy fanfiction #fanfiction #my hero academia

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robotslenderman · 3 years

Note

Sascha! :3

:DDD

SPECIAL INTEREST TIME, BITCHES

How I feel about this character

I used to not give a shit but then you sucked me into them how dare you

They are baby

Mass murdering horrible torturer baby

They've... been through a hell of a lot of trauma and have to process it. They were stuck in that trauma for centuries. Now Ilias is apparently back but he died in their arms, they saw him turn to ash and they have to be dealing with the trauma of that, too.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Ilias cel Frumos, Beckett (but like in a snarky enemies to lovers kind of way), and ofc my own OCs Rose and Nastasya. Wasn't sure about Nastasya/Sascha for a while but suddenly something seemed to click the other night and I think they'd actually work very well together -- their personalities complement each other, I think. Ilias is warm to Sascha's cold, extroverted to Sascha's introvert, but Nastasya is playful to Sascha's seriousness, joyful to their solemnity, vibrant to their reserved nature.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Even before Rose became a romantic partner I shipped the two of them nonromantically too.

Also I like the idea of Sascha being a tsundere Vitriolic Best Buds with Beckett.

My unpopular opinion about this character

I think that they would have responded far, far worse to the appearance of Elias Athanasios than I see fandom talk about (sorry, Ry XD). Like, not even as bad as I've mentioned before -- way worse.

(SORRY RY I'M HAVING A SPECIAL INTEREST MOMENT)

To start: there is no way in hell they're not dealing with hella trauma after the Dracon. That everyone agrees on, but lemme go into detail:

Like imagine not just seeing your lover die in your arms but being unable to really process it because your consciousness just got smooshed with someone else's, with someone who's mourning his own lovers and didn't really care about yours. Oh, and that person's a suicidal but also sadistic psychopath.

So you spend a few centuries torturing people, shit you wouldn't have done before except in extreme circumstances (if at all) and quite enjoying it, and then --

And then you get separated from the part of you that was okay with it because oh, it was actually the other guy who was cool with that stuff, and you were trapped with the brain of the guy who enjoyed everything you did and you felt everything he did as you did it and thought you wanted it, thought you enjoyed it, thought it was you who decided it, but because you were so enmeshed you don't know that you DIDN'T, maybe it WAS you, can you really blame the Dracon?

And maybe it was really you who made those decisions, because after that long fused together... sure, you're separated physically.

But are you really?

You've been together for centuries. After that long you can't have known where one of you began and the other ended, and it must have influenced your true personality. I mean, stick people in a room of people different to them and they adapt their personality and beliefs pretty quickly, like weeks to months, without outside influence.

Like, how much fucking worse would that be if you were actually stuck inside their head, for CENTURIES???

You're apart now, but in a sense you'll always be together.

Stick the both of you in a room and you'd probably talk like a pair of Creepy Twins. You'll finish each other's sentences because you'll both be on the same wavelength, you'll have the same idiosyncratic habits -- scratching your nose with the same finger of the same hand, tilting your head the same way when you think somebody's being annoyingly obtuse, tapping your fingers the same way on the desk when you're thinking.

You've been intertwined for so long that you probably have the same impulses now, the same thoughts, with only the most foundational aspects to the both of you separating you -- the Dracon's still got his sadism, and Sascha is still introverted, so that'll influence subtle differences.

But it'll be buried under seven hundred years of habits you developed together, opinions and thoughts and aversions and passions you developed together, working in sync for every second of existence, dreaming the same dreams, moving the same hands and fingers, doing the same deeds.

You were a gestalt. Are you no longer one just because you're apart? Are you really separated when you were one for so long? Are you even two people any more, or are you just one person with two bodies, now?

It's going to take decades to bring yourself back to a functional level after the identity crisis that causes, and that's not even counting the trauma of the Eldest, or the Dracon's trauma that you remember just as vividly as if it were your own, or the trauma of what Symeon did to you.

You will probably never, ever recover.

There's traumatic events people went through that follow them for decades that only happened over a few hours at most.

How can you come back from seven hundred years?

In a way, it would have been emotionally better for them to have stayed fused to the Dracon forever. At least they would have thought they were themself, then. At least they were used to it. At least they didn't have a conscience. At least they didn't feel as used because half of them was doing the using, if initially unwillingly. They were one; there was no conflict, just two people so in sync they may as well have been one.

Then to add insult to injury, right after the Dracon's pulled from you, a guy identical to the lover you witnessed die in your arms shows up trying to get your attention. That timing is suspicious AF, and any hope Sascha might have had of coming to terms with Ilias's death on their own time comes crashing down as this redhead just casually waltzes on in and just mashes Sascha's trauma buttons by existing, by looking just like him and acting like him and sounding like him and having the same interests as him and and and --

And now half of them is gone. But also -- not gone, never going, never leaving, who are they now? They're missing half of themself but also probably feeling like they'll never be their real self again. Were they ever really Sascha, when that was a name they took on side by side with the Dracon? But how can they be Myca when Myca is seven hundred years away, when he died the moment Ilias did?

Maybe it was Myca who died in his lover's arms, not the other way around.

I think on the outside Sascha would pretend to be furious at Elias Athanasios for posing as their lover, for having the gall to pose as someone they saw turn to ash, but deep down?

I think they're fucking terrified of him.

Because of the traumatic memories he brings back. Because he knows so much about Ilias and Sascha can't figure out who he "really" is and what his true motivations are.

Because after everything Symeon did, after everything the Dracon and the Eldest did, after the evidence in front of Sascha's eyes that Ilias was dead, dead, dead, how can they not be terrified that this isn't another attempt to manipulate them and put them at the complete and utter mercy of another Methuselah or Elder or worse for another few centuries, when they were only JUST set free?

Their nights as the Angel of Caine are done. They've been manipulated so long and now there's someone else using the person that they loved the most as bait to draw them out. Someone they know for certain did not survive. For their own survival, they can't do anything but disappear because given the forces that has had power over them before, they can't take any risks with this one. Sascha keeps trying to find out who he really is and if he's working for someone, what his angle is, but this time their brilliance is getting them nowhere and they cannot find a single scrap of a clue who Elias Athanasios really is, because all evidence points to him being the real thing but he can't be because THEY SAW HIM DIE.

And here Athanasios is, continuing to try to lure them out.

He's convinced Beckett, one of the smartest people Sascha knows, that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Rose that he's the real deal.

He's convinced Sascha's dumbass Vykosovich descendants that he's the real deal -- particularly the descendant that's their biographer, the descendant whose made it her life's work to know everything there is to know about Sascha Vykos. And Athanasios has direct access to her.

He's getting closer and closer to Sascha.

The walls are closing in again.

So, my unpopular opinion?

Sascha Vykos is the most terrified they've ever been in their existence.

(Second opinion, which I don't know if it's unpopular or not, but -- since they used their deadname for centuries before changing it I reckon they'd actually be pretty fine with Ilias still calling them Myca. But, you know, only Ilias, and anyone else gets turned inside out. Not even Rose would get that privilege.)

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

Not exactly answering the question but I am dreading the release of the V5 Sabbat book because I'm so scared they're going to completely ignore what BJD did with Sascha and go back to making them a villain.

Also worried that Sascha's canonically followed the Beckoning. I reckon they'd nope the fuck out of it after what happened in BJD. Something strange trying to manipulate them again? Fuck no.

#VTM #Sascha Vykos #headcanon #Ilias cel Frumos

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sevensided · 3 years

Note

how did you get into writing fic? i'd love to start but idk even where to begin! I loved adats so I was wondering do you have any advice?

Oh my goodness! I am so flattered you’ve asked me this. Yes, I can absolutely help. I’ll throw a bunch of rambling under the cut.

I started writing fic probably when I was... sixteen years old? A lot of my early works were oneshots. I couldn’t figure out how to do anything plot heavy for the life of me, so I just stuck to AUs or whatever I felt like. I wasn’t in any particular fandom -- I really wrote whatever I had ideas for. I remember I tried once to do a plot-heavy story and I received a review absolutely ripping it to shreds. Like, it was so cruel I cried lol. I ended up deleting the fic. Years later, I get what they were trying to say (basically, more substance, less style), but at the time it cut to the quick. Really, it was only when I was in my twenties that I started writing work that was longer and/or better.

The fandom that helped me actually write plot heavy work was a historical-based fandom. As I’m a historian, it was perfect. I got to use my research skills and knowledge to create works that, above all, aimed to feel authentic. I mainly read historical fiction, so I was familiar with how that genre worked. Miraculously, people loved my work. I think I wrote about ~200k in the period of a year? These were several short stories (20-40k) and a few oneshot filler fics. While I was part of this fandom I also helped organise a Big Bang which was a lot of hard work but was extremely rewarding. Along with that, I interacted mainly with other fic writers, so I spent a lot of time chatting to people about ideas and encouraging other writers, and it just created a lovely medley where no concept was impossible or any line of dialogue too difficult. We supported each other and it was truly like a little commune. I gradually stepped away from the fandom mainly because it was just a part of my life at a very specific time, and almost as soon as that time was over, my love for that story/ship faded, but I firmly believe I figured out a lot of how/what I do now purely through that experience.

Regarding ADATS

With ADATS, it stemmed entirely from wanting to “explain” three months in canon (at the end of season three). I was interested in the idea of season four setting up Will/Mike in canon, and I wanted to test the source material to see if I could draw from what already existed to create something authentic. I began with that simple idea: what happened from July to October in 1985? Then I thought about the major themes I wanted to hit -- family, friendship, coming of age, sexuality -- and I nested them around the bigger concept: how do I get Mike from being ostensibly straight to realising he is gay? That meant thinking of two steps: Mike discovering his attraction to guys; Mike discovering his attraction to Will. Those two concepts were separate “arcs” that needed addressing in different ways. Balance was key to weaving them together and making the reader feel like they knew what was coming (and that they felt smart for putting the pieces together) without just rushing through and going “now kiss!” That’s partly why ADATS needs a sequel, lol: because it’s not finished!

Writing process

The first thing I do when I start to get an idea is I write it down. Sounds obvious. But when you have a killer line of dialogue come to you in the shower and you think “I’ll remember that” -- reader, you will not remember it. You gotta get it down ASAP! I do that the whole way through, as generally I’ll be thinking of scenes I’m stuck on and then it’ll just come to me and I’ll quickly jot it down.

The next thing -- or what I do in the meantime -- is start structuring. I plan. I try to plan a lot. Sometimes it’s okay to write “and something happens here to get them here”, because you’ll figure it out later, but for the most part I’ve discovered that planning is like gold and you can’t get enough of it. I break my work up into generally 3-4 parts/sections, and I treat each section like a mini story. So each part needs a conflict and resolution, and it needs to flow into the next section. You need to have a feeling of things evolving and maturing. Once I’ve planned those little bits, I start thinking about the bigger plot arc and how I can drop in hints along the way. I’m probably not a subtle or skilled enough writer to yet pull off that sort of gasping twist you get in really excellent books, but I’m trying to get there. It’s hard, is what I’m trying to say, but that’s okay, because we’re all learning.

Then I generally do aesthetic stuff. Sounds stupid, probably. But nothing helps me get more into a mood than doing a Pinterest board or -- most of all -- making a Spotify mix. I start thinking about the vibe and the general atmosphere, and then I almost exclusively listen to that mix when I’m working. Sort of like muscle memory? Just to get the creative juices associated with that particular selection of songs.

Another thing I’ll do along with plot structure is character structure. This is a biggie. I mean, a story is nothing without characters. So I’ll just jot down a bunch of bullet points of characters and particular aspects that I want to highlight or remember. I hate continuity errors in fiction. Like, if someone says they work on Maple Street but later in the fic they’re working on Pine Street. I hate that. So I keep note of specific things that my main character might notice at repeated points in the story (colours, places, smells, names, sounds -- so they’re all consistent even as the narrative evolves). That’s another thing -- your characters’ motivations. Not everyone is going to be a huge player, but they all do serve a purpose. The most important character is obviously your main character. I personally think it’s important to let your M.C. be an arse at times. They’re going to be mean, they’re going to misinterpret things or fly off the handle... just let ‘em. Let them be wretched humans, and then bring them back and make them realise what they’ve done. Let them learn! I love consequences in fiction, lol.

At the same time, I’ll probably start writing. We’ve already written down some snippets of neat dialogue or descriptions, but now we should start the actual process. For me, I used to start at the beginning. Usually this was the most fleshed out anyway: I’ll have a clear idea of the beginning and the end, but nothing in the middle. These days, if I have a scene in mind that I can’t forget, I’ll just write it. It will possibly get scrapped or rewritten, but that’s okay, because at least you’ve got it down and now you can devote your brain power to something useful (like figuring out what the middle is supposed to be). I’ll have half a dozen of totally out of context scenes just littered in my Word document that I’ll add to as I go along. Eventually, though, you’re going to start writing properly, and that’s when you write your opening scene.

Opening scenes: super important. Every time I write a scene I think: what is the point of this? What do I want the reader to learn or takeaway? Sometimes you do have filler scenes, but they also serve a different purpose (perhaps to establish a group dynamic or to explore/describe a character’s surroundings). Mainly, though, every scene should push something forward in some way, whether it’s character development or a plot point. So, with an opening scene, I always think you have to establish: where you are; who you are; what they are doing; where they’ve come from (in a philosophical and practical sense); and where they’re going (ditto). That doesn’t have to happen in the first paragraph -- that would be silly. But if you sprinkle that information in over time it’ll gradually build up a picture of your character and that way the reader can get an idea of who they are. You basically need to give a snapshot of what your story is about. This also goes back to the character creator stuff: where they are at the start should be different to where they end up. How that happens is, of course, because of plot, and because you’ve structured everything to the nth degree, we’ve got a very clear progression of that character’s growth (/s easier said than done lol).

General advice

Write down everything: every idea, a bit of dialogue, a description, whatever. Write it down. Doesn’t have to be neat. Just has to be on paper. You can’t remember everything, so if you’re spending time trying to hold those things in your head, it’s taking up space for new ideas to come along.

Structure, plan, structure, plan. Sometimes it’s boring and I hate it. Other times, when I’ve not written in a few days and I open the Word doc and think wtf is this supposed to be, I am very grateful for Past Me for leaving such detailed notes. Seriously, it helps so much. Oneshots don’t really need planning, in my experience. You just get those out there. But multi-chaptered stories really do, even ones that “just” focus on a relationship.

Whatever you want to write, commit to it. Space goblins invade Hawkins? Do it. Eleven and Max find themselves in a cult akin to Midsommar (2019) and must escape? Yes. Just... whatever you want to do, remember that you’re writing it for you. Write what most interests you, what makes you when you reread it go AHHHHH I LOVE THIS!! Because that makes it a thousand times easier to actually get on with the writing when you enjoy what you’re doing.

Write a lot. Every day, if you can, or at least at designated times. Occasionally I have a very specific headspace/vibe I have to be in, but sometimes it just hits me and I’ll say to my partner “I need to write now” and just disappear, lol. The more you write the more you write. It’s so, so, so true. Cannot emphasise this enough. When I wrote that ~200k in twelve months? It was because I literally wrote every. day. Or near enough. Remember that some days you’ll write 200 words, and other days you’ll write 20k (this happened to me with ADATS -- part of the reason I finished it so quickly was because I had sprints of writing 10k+ at a time that only happened because I was in the rhythm of it). Write, write, write. Who cares if it’s crap! No one will see it until you are ready. In the meantime, just write!

Probably last of all (although I could go on and on) is connect with other writers. If you’re struggling to start, sometimes just talking about it can help a huge amount. I hope it goes without saying that you can message me whenever you want, anon or not, and I will talk to you. We can talk about ideas or I can beta stuff, whatever you want! Find like-minded people and talk to them about what you want to do. Another thing this helps is in advertising your work when you do publish. I see a lot of first time fic writers get super down because they publish their magnum opus on AO3 but no one comments. Honestly, it’s because no one knows you’ve published! You don’t have to be tooting your own horn every which way, but just actively talking about your work and even collaborating with other content creators with get you hyped and other people too (and the input and encouragement other fandom members give is just... out of this world. Anon messages helped me finish ADATS when I was really worried I wouldn’t [that’s the truth]. Seriously, support is everything). When you have people excited about your work, you get excited. It’s really as simple as that.

I could go on but this is already horrendously long. I hope even a bit of this helps! If you want to chat or have any more questions, just hit me up any time.

#writing tips #writing help #writing advice #answered #i really hope this helps/answers your question!#i can do something more structured if you want #otherwise here are just my initial thoughts #Anonymous

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akitsune-lune · 4 years

Text

a lukewarm defence of Blossomfall

or: How I learned to stop worrying and love the IvyBlossom

Hi there. Do you have a minute to talk about Blossomfall?

My goal here

Analyse Blossomfall’s behaviour in OOTS. Clear up misconceptions and aim to change people’s minds regarding the relationship between Millie, Briar, n Blossom, as well as making a case for IvyBlossom not in fact being A Toxic Evil Ship Propagated by Abuse Apologists. This is going to be an extremely long post and hopefully THE Blossomfall Defence Post. Fly, my pretties, share it around, this took so long.

1: The Text

let’s go over everything single thing Blossomfall has done in OOTS so that there’s no way for us to be in disagreement over what she’s done. It’s gonna take a while. This will be everything vaguely important to Blossomfall’s character, but not including shit like characters noticing Blossompaw sitting with her mentor or whatever. You are free to ctrl-f “Blossom” your way through all of OOTS to see if I’m cherry picking passages for my clever scheme to make everyone think about Blossomfall. (spoilers, I’m not)

Fourth Apprentice:

Literally nothing of note. Just filling in random background bits.

Fading Echoes:

P.68 This is pretty much our first look at Blossomfall. She squabbles with her littermates and maybe has a crush on Toadstep.

P.128 next is our first interaction between Ivypaw and Blossompaw. Ivypaw thinks Dovepaw is getting special treatment, and Blossompaw disagrees.

P.149 And a first interaction between Millie and Blossompaw. Blossompaw jumps onto the Great Oak and hurts herself, then Millie fusses over her. This is a pretty good set-up for showing Millie to be a bit of an overbearing mother and no spoilers, but if Millie’s attention suddenly vanished, you could imagine that would leave Blossompaw off-kilter.

P.174 Now we have an antagonistic interaction between Ivypaw and Blossompaw; Blossompaw is rude and thoughtless and it plays directly to Ivypaw’s deepest insecurities. Throughout the assessment, Blossompaw treats her like she’s useless.

P.235 A quick acknowledgement of Briarlight’s siblings cheering for her

P.248 another moment of sisterly affection between them

P.258 The first mention of Thornclaw in relation to Blossomfall. I’ve heard it cited as evidence of Thorn/Blossom set-up, which... seems like a stretch, but maybe.

P.361 And to round out Fading Echoes we get Ivypaw and Blossomfall working together in battle, and Blossomfall being appreciative of Ivypaw’s abilities.

Night Whispers:

P.33 The very first moment of Blossomfall in Night Whispers is an in-text, explicit acknowledgement that Blossomfall and Ivypaw have put their previous quarrels to rest. After that, (P.111) we get a quick moment of Ivypaw and Blossomfall talking like chill Clanmates, which might further support that their previous animosity is gone.

P.114 We get another instance of Blossomfall complimenting Ivypaw, then an exchange which leads Ivypaw to think No wonder Hawkfrost doesn’t visit [Blossomfall’s] dreams.

P.143 After that, we hear Millie bemoaning how her daughter’s life is meaningless now, followed by

P.143 Which would imply that Bumblestripe and Blossomfall would take issue with how Millie talks about Briarlight and her life.

P.327 another moment of Blossomfall showing concern for her littermates, and that rounds off book 3 of OOTS.

Sign of the Moon:

P.178 Blossomfall is now training in the Dark Forest and Ivypool is very upset by it, later thinking ThunderClan cats are loyal.

P.179-180 In Blossomfall’s first training exercise in the Dark Forest, Ivypool interferes and risks punishment to save Blossomfall from injury.

P.181 Blossomfall is ungrateful, but Ivypool doesn’t really react to her remark.

Next, Ivypool wants to speak with Blossomfall about her training in the Dark Forest. Before she has the chance, however, Blossomfall’s old mentor Hazeltail notices that Blossomfall is injured and tries to draw Millie’s attention to it.

P.273 This is our first hint that Millie has something to do with Blossomfall’s training in the Dark Forest. I’d like to point out that it’s Millie ignoring her and not Briarlight that provokes the anger from Blossomfall.

P.276 Twofold - First, Blossomfall doesn’t jump to Thornclaw’s defence when Ivypool calls him bossy, rather she agrees. Blossomfall also rebuffs Ivypool’s efforts to check on her.

P.277 Next, we have Ivypool pushing further, and Blossomfall seems edgy. Ivypool expresses more concern in her head and is scared for Blossomfall.

Now we have the big scene. Ivypool and Blossomfall go exploring in the tunnels and Blossomfall’s character finally gets her moment.

P.279 Blossomfall makes a remark about losing the use of her legs, which could be interpreted multiple ways, a dark joke about what happened to Briarlight, jealousy over the attention that her sister’s condition has resulted in, etc

P.312-313 Now we cut to the heart of the matter. Blossomfall doesn’t even know if Millie loves her anymore.

P.313 “I hate myself for feeling jealous of Briarlight. I can’t help what I feel, and that proves I’m not a good cat.” Because of jealousy and attention-seeking urges, Blossomfall has decided that she’s a bad person and deserves to go to the Dark Forest.

P.313-314

P.323 Then they get back to camp after having been missing for several hours and after Blossomfall has been injured, and Millie lectures her.

P.323 and then there’s the nail in the coffin. I’d also like to draw attention to the fact that Blossomfall doesn’t lash out. She just accepts Millie’s lack of concern for her and her lecturing, while relying on the Dark Forest for validation. She especially is never shown to lash out at Briarlight. That’s the end of Sign of the Moon.

The Forgotten Warrior:

P.247 In book 5, Blossomfall is shown to be again antagonistic, though this time toward Dovewing, and very protective of her littermates, in a negative light this time. This is pretty much the only moment of note for Blossomfall in the whole book.

The Last Hope:

P.67 Now we get the magnum opus of Blossomfall and Thornclaw being chummy and Lionblaze misinterpreting this as meaning they’re going to end up as mates, then realizing it’s actually because they’re training in the Dark Forest together. This is the third time Blossomfall and Thornclaw have been mentioned in the same sentence, and the first time they’ve ever interacted with each other. It’s the first time where they’ve been explicitly friendly; the first BlossomThorn moment was a mention of Thornclaw’s mannerisms rubbing off on Blossomfall and the second was Blossomfall indirectly calling Thornclaw bossy. This is why I say with relative confidence, BlossomThorn in AVoS was not planned in OOTS. Our ‘evidence’ is

Blossomfall thinks he’s bossy

Blossomfall imitated him once

They’re friends because they trained in the Dark Forest together

She has a similar number of moments with Mousewhisker and Toadstep, but I haven’t included them other than the very first moment with Blossomfall because those aren’t the ships that end up canonized. Even with Toadstep, Bumblepaw explicitly says that she’s mooning over him, which is far more indication of future romance than BlossomThorn gets.

ADDITIONALLY in the reprinted version of The Last Hope...

He’s replaced with Mousewhisker! Which knocks BlossomThorn mentions in canon down to just two, only one of which is at least neutral, and they never even interact before she’s nursing his kits! *screm* Erins WHY?

and uh... that’s actually about it for Blossomfall’s moments in Last Hope. She’s lumped in with Mousewhisker, Birchfall, etc with Ivypool and ThunderClan trying to track them down and make sure they don’t fight for the DF, etc, and then she doesn’t, n book ends.

Alright let’s analyse some data.

2: The relationship between Ivy/Blossom

It's toxic and unneeded- just because it's not heterosexual it doesn't mean it's healthy. Blossomfall bullied Ivypool for almost the entire first half of OotS, and just because she supported Ivy once it doesn't mean that they're friends. It means they've moved on and forgiven each other.

Forum post on January 14th, 2019

Alright, I’ve heard some crazy shit about BlossomIvy and I’m here to tell you, forget it. You don’t have to ship them, but if you’re gonna call them toxic, I’m gonna call you full of shit.

Ivypaw and Blossompaw’s first big conflict is during Blossompaw’s assessment, at which point she calls Ivypaw a bad hunter and Ivypaw gets upset. Now pay close attention, folks! This is the only time Blossompaw and Ivypaw argue before Blossomfall starts training in the Dark Forest. After this, once Ivypaw has been training in the Dark Forest, Blossomfall compliments her on her skills and the text explicitly suggests that now Ivypaw and Blossomfall have ‘put their quarrels behind them.’ After that, once Blossomfall begins training in the Dark Forest, Ivypool intervenes on her behalf to save her from injury and is called out by Brokenstar. Blossomfall is ungrateful, but Ivypool shows no regret for helping her.

Then we get the big moment between them in the tunnels. Blossomfall, after being injured, asks Ivypool if she thinks Millie will miss her. Ivypool realizes why Blossomfall is training in the Dark Forest, and Blossomfall confesses that she knows that the Dark Forest is bad news but feels that she deserves to go there because she’s a bad person (cat?).

Something I want to pay special mention to is the fact that Blossomfall is confessing all of this to Ivypool rather than any other main character, because they understand each other. Whether or not you like the ship, it is an undeniable fact that Blossomfall and Ivypool have a great deal of common ground.

They were both taken advantage of by the Dark Forest because of their jealousy over their sisters, they both know that the Dark Forest is up to no good but don’t leave it, and they both acknowledge in no uncertain terms that they’re jealous of cats that would also want something that they themselves have--in Blossomfall’s case, her able body, and in Ivypool’s, her lack of super-powers and involvement in the prophecy. Blossomfall and Ivypool can relate to and understand each other on a level that they cannot their other Clanmates.

Blossompaw and Ivypaw have a moment of animosity in Night Whispers, when Blossompaw says Ivypaw is a bad hunter and that she’d prefer Dovepaw, and Ivypaw is very upset. Then later, again, we get an in-text acknowledgement from another character that Blossomfall and Ivypaw have put their quarrels behind them. After Blossomfall’s assessment, she and Ivypaw only have friendly or neutral interactions. The next time they argue is when Blossomfall joins the Dark Forest, is out of her depth, and Ivypool intervenes to save her. Blossomfall argues that she can take care of herself and Ivypool thinks she’s full of it, but doesn’t push the point.

Then later, they have a bit of an antagonistic interaction where Ivypool is scared that Blossomfall is making the wrong choice by training in the Dark Forest and wants to help her, while Blossomfall rejects her help.

And then of course, the big scene. Blossomfall admits her deepest fear, that Millie no longer loves her, to Ivypool, and Ivypool immediately understands, thinking of her own jealousy of Dovewing.

That’s pretty much a summary of the evolution of the BlossomIvy relationship. For all you visual learners, here’s a handy chart

It’s hardly scientific, but arguing that Blossomfall and Ivypool don’t move from antagonistic to emotionally vulnerable with each other would be a hard stance to take given the sharp difference between the argument during the assessment and the conversation in the tunnels. Even when Blossomfall is telling Ivypool that she can take care of herself after Ivypool saves her from Ratscar, it doesn’t necessitate an interpretation of them as hostile--it can be read as either “I don’t want your help” OR “I can take care of myself” the latter of which invites a lot of classic romance tropes.

If you don’t read their relationship as potentially romantic, they still go from not understanding each other to understanding each other the best out of any other cat in their Clan. That’s a pretty significant development (especially for Warriors oof) so even if you still think Blossomfall is a brat or spoiled or emotionally stunted because of her jealousy of Briarlight, the text shows that Ivypool and Blossomfall at least have the potential to be extremely close friends and confidantes.

And if you DO read their relationship as potentially romantic, first of all welcome to the club, here’s your club-sanctioned hat and waterbottle with an engraved picture of em, and second of all, it’s really not a stretch. Again, they have a great deal of common ground. Blossomfall tells Ivypool her deepest insecurity and Ivypool understands. She doesn’t lecture Blossomfall and disagrees when Blossomfall says that she’s a bad cat. Despite not having a whole lot to go on, what we do have 100% shows them trusting and understanding each other.

Overall, what I want to argue is that THE BlossomIvy argument in Night Whispers is absolutely not enough to write them off as toxic; in fact, it later shows how much their relationship has developed. Additionally, it’s not just some random ship where we picked two she-cats out of a hat and then made a bunch of fan art; they have a legit connection, whether or not you think they have chemistry or are a better ship than say, FernIvy. They are in similar enough situations that they’re able to sympathize with each other more than Lionblaze, Jayfeather, Bumblestripe, Toadstep (?) or any other important cat in their lives can. That’s a helluva lot more to go off of than just “they trained in the Dark Forest together” or “they’re friendly sometimes” like we have for other major ships for the two of them. (Let me also explictly say that I’m not trying to argue that BlossomIvy is more canon than BlossomThorn and FernIvy, because no shit--the latter two have kits and are canonically mates. I’m just arguing over what makes most sense and who would work best as a pair)

3: Blossomfall’s family

Here’s the other major point of Blossomfall’s character; her relationship with her sister and her mother. Let’s answer a few questions. Is Millie actually ignoring Blossomfall or is Blossomfall being unreasonable? Does it matter if Millie is neglecting Blossomfall and should Blossomfall be self-sufficient as an adult? How does Blossomfall’s jealousy of Briarlight affect Briarlight herself, and what is Blossomfall’s relationship with her littermates? How does Blossomfall react to Millie’s perceived neglect?

And we’ll knock em off one by one:

Q: Is Millie actually neglecting Blossomfall or is Blossomfall being unreasonable?

A: This isn’t an easy question to answer. There are arguments to be made on both sides; Blossomfall is a young adult by the time Briarlight is injured (around 18 if you use my AU lol) and therefore probably shouldn’t require her mother’s constant attention. On the other hand, Millie is shown to be very attentive to her children and very concerned when they’re hurt or potentially going to be hurt (149, Fading Echoes). After Briarlight becomes disabled, Millie’s concern for Blossomfall vanishes. Blossomfall is injured training in the Dark Forest (and let me point out that Blossomfall is not the one who seeks out her mother’s attention; Hazeltail does it on her behalf) and Millie doesn’t care. (273, Sign of the Moon) Later in Sign of the Moon, Blossomfall has hit her head pretty hard and turns up after hours of being missing and Millie’s reaction is to chastise her for not hunting on Briarlight’s behalf. It’s sharply contrasted in-text with how Whitewing reacts to Ivypool, who hasn’t even been hurt. (323, Sign of the Moon) This is a pretty definitive display of how Millie does not care about her other daughter’s well-being anymore. If you’re thinking, “Well, Blossomfall was being irresponsible by running off into the tunnels, so she’s not innocent here” I agree, however let me employ my good friend Extremely Detailed Metaphor to explain why Millie isn’t either.

Let’s put this in terms of a human situation; a high school AU, if you will. I’ll paint a picture; it’s mid-winter, Sunday night. Blossomfall, her mother, and her sister Briarlight, live on a block where everyone is expected to shovel the snow in front of their house. Briarlight and Blossomfall get to school by walking to the bus stop at the end of the street. Millie tells Blossomfall to shovel the snow outside of their house that night so that Briarlight will be able to get to school on Monday in her wheelchair.

Instead, Blossomfall goes to a party, gets drunk, tries to drive herself home, gets into a car accident, and gets a concussion. Millie arrives at the hospital and, without making sure Blossomfall is okay, goes off at Blossomfall, telling her that she should have shovelled the entire block instead of going out to party.

Now, we’re once again in a situation where Blossomfall has been irresponsible, Millie is putting unreasonable expectations on her other daughter out of pity for Briarlight, and Millie is unconcerned about Blossomfall’s well-being. Unquestionably, Blossomfall did the wrong thing by going to a party/exploring the tunnels. BUT. That does not excuse Millie’s reaction. Millie is justified in being upset that Blossomfall is shirking her responsibilities, but not even bothering to find out how seriously she’s been injured is appalling behaviour from a previously-attentive mother. And you don’t need to take my word for it; from Whitewing and Brackenfur’s reactions, it’s obvious that no one thinks Millie is behaving in an acceptable fashion. She blatantly disregards Blossomfall’s well-being.

Seriously, I know it’s a pretty dire accusation, but with both examples of Blossomfall being injured post-Briarlight-injury and Millie either ignoring her or lecturing her, I don’t really know what other conclusion can be drawn. And let’s not villanize Millie utterly; Graystripe gets absolutely no mention in any instance despite being their father, so ??? what’s up with him. Overall, though, Blossomfall is not making up shit. There is literally no example post-Briarlight-injury of Millie showing concern for Blossomfall, only ever ignoring or admonishing her.

Q: Does it matter if Millie is neglecting Blossomfall and should Blossomfall be self-sufficient as an adult?

A: Again, not an easy question to answer. This is highly subjective, but if an adult’s mother suddenly lost all concern for their well-being, I’d argue that would be pretty damn destructive to that adult’s self-esteem. When you turn 18 or become a warrior, you don’t magically become self-sufficient and totally independent from your family, no matter what Warriors wants to tell you lmao. Those relationships are still very important, particularly for Blossomfall since as I’ll argue later, one of the most consistent points of her character is that she is extremely family-oriented. To go from her mother fussing over her and always being concerned for her health to her mother giving less than a shit about her when she gets lost and injured... I don’t care if she’s technically an adult. It’s not about her being attention-seeking or childish, it’s about her being completely cut off from one of the main relationships in her support system for no fault of her own. It does matter if Millie no longer cares about her daughter, whether or not the daughter in question is 16 or 18, an apprentice or a warrior. Blossomfall has lost an important relationship in her life, and it does a big hit to her self-esteem.

Q: How does Blossomfall’s jealousy of Briarlight affect Briarlight herself, and what is Blossomfall’s relationship with her littermates?

A: Oh good, an easy one at last. First, Blossomfall doesn’t blame Briarlight. She blames Millie. Second, Blossomfall is only ever shown to be loving and caring toward her sister. Third, (again) the most consistent thing about Blossomfall is that she puts her family first. The first two points can be supported in tandem; if Blossomfall truly blamed Briarlight for Millie’s disregard of Blossom, then why are all her interactions with her sister warm and loving? Very unfortunately, we don’t have many interactions between Briar and Blossom of any kind post-Briar-injury, but Blossomfall and her brother are the first to cheer for her at Briarlight’s ceremony (235, Fading Echoes) and Blossomfall eagerly brings fresh-kill to share with Briarlight (248, Fading Echoes). Later, Dovewing and Poppyfrost overhear one of Millie’s little monologues about how Briarlight’s life is ruined and Poppyfrost remarks that it’s a good thing Bumblestripe and Blossomfall didn’t overhear her. Draw your own conclusions, but to my understanding, this is a pretty plain demonstration that “Millie thinks Briarlight’s life is ruined and Bumblestripe and Blossomfall vehemently disagree, to the point at which they would start a big argument with their mother over that point” is common knowledge in ThunderClan. (143, Night Whispers)

Time and time again, Blossomfall loves and supports her sister. There’s no instance of Blossomfall putting the blame of Millie’s behaviour on Briarlight, only on Millie herself. In the big moment in the tunnel, Blossomfall doesn’t say “Do you think Briarlight would happy if I died and she got all Millie’s attention to herself?” she says “Do you think Millie would miss me?” followed by “I can’t bear seeing [Briarlight] suffer.” (312-313, Sign of the Moon) It’s not about Briarlight. She loves her sister and at the same time, cannot help being jealous of her, because it’s about Millie’s attention.

Finally, Blossomfall’s family is incredibly important to her. She and her littermates are continuously used for Dovepaw to angst about how she and Ivypaw are no longer close. For example, we get Blossomfall fretting over both of her siblings (327, Night Whispers), then Blossomfall being petty and upset because Bumblestripe chose to train with Dovewing instead of her and Bumblestripe dismissed her as being ridiculous (247, Forgotten Warrior). I’m not saying Blossomfall was in the right, there, but it does show Blossomfall’s devotion to her family and her expectation that her littermates do the same. There are also all of the above examples of them cheering at Briarlight’s ceremony, Blossomfall bringing fresh-kill to share with Briarlight, and the implication that Blossomfall and Bumblestripe would object to the way that Millie talks about Briarlight.

Q: How does Blossomfall react to Millie’s perceived neglect?

A: Another fairly easy one. Blossomfall puts on a front of not caring. When Millie admonishes her for daring to get lost and hurt, Blossomfall doesn’t lash out at her mother, much less Briarlight. She never fights back, she doesn’t tell her mother that she’s being callous and neglectful, she accepts it silently and then tells Ivypool, verbatim, “Whatever. This is just the way that it is now.” She rolls over and accepts it, as much as it hurts her, and the Dark Forest takes advantage of that unresolved pain. (323, Sign of the Moon)

Even earlier in Sign of the Moon, when Blossomfall has just begun training in the Dark Forest (suggesting she has been ignored by Millie long enough that the Dark Forest has been able to draw her in) she wakes up injured and Hazeltail notices. Blossomfall brushes it off, which I would infer is because she’s adjusted to her pain and injury being ignored but you can read as an isolated incident if you really want to, but Hazeltail insists on bringing Millie’s attention to it. Millie dismisses it and Blossomfall is angry, but silent, which again, I would infer is because that’s what Blossomfall expected from Millie and is hurt to have her expectation confirmed (273, Sign of the Moon). This can’t be read as an isolated incident, because Blossomfall is already training in the Dark Forest, therefore Millie has been ignoring her for a while now.

4: Is Blossomfall a bad person?

In conclusion, no.

Blossomfall is upset when her mother stops caring about her well-being and believes that she deserves to go to the Dark Forest because of her jealousy over her sister (313, Sign of the Moon). I’m not saying that her self-hatred means she’s a good person, but it’s obvious that she wouldn’t choose jealousy if she had the option to not feel this way.

Critically, what I want people to take away from this, is that Blossomfall, like all of us, doesn’t have complete control over how she feels. She cannot choose to wake up and simply not be jealous of her sister and be fine with her mother’s indifference to her well-being. She believes that feeling this way makes her a bad person and would, of course, change if she could. The only thing that is within Blossomfall’s control is how she reacts to her jealousy and hurt. And the way that she reacts is by taking it out on herself, by training in the Dark Forest, and by mentally beating herself up for feelings outside of her control. There is not a single example of her lashing out at Millie, or god forbid her sister Briarlight. She is silent in the face of Millie’s bad treatment of her and supportive and loving of Briarlight. Self-hatred is of course, not a virtue, but our society prefers it to harming others.

That’s why I can say with confidence: Blossomfall is a good person, if prone to occasional self-hatred, pettiness, and thoughtlessness. Those are not flaws that make someone evil, just normal and struggling. She is not perfect and completely loveable, but she is not toxic, or spoiled, or unreasonable. She’s just a person who has been hurt by others’ behaviour and punishes herself for things outside of her control. She loves her family, tries to take care of herself, and doesn’t always perform perfectly.

Thanks for reading. I hope you’re at least thinking a little more about previously formed opinions on Blossomfall and that we all continue to read critically in the future.

End note: So why did I call this a lukewarm defence, anyway? Other than making reference to one of my favourite video essayists, Blossomfall is a complex cat often misunderstood by the fandom, but she’s also a shithead. Post-OOTS, she’s pretty unequivocally a kitty-racist. But she’s also Thornclaw’s wife, so it’s not like that’s the only way her character gets yanked out of its previous characterization for the convenience of the plot. Consider this a defence of Blossomfall in Omen of the Stars by a person who would rather pretend she died just after it and A Vision of Shadows (and later books) has another character in her place. I’m not interested in debating Blossomfall’s behaviour post-OOTS. She’s bad, whatever, but don’t smear the good name of her character development in OOTS.

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bonniebird · 4 years

Photo

Constantine x Fem!Reader

Requested by Anon

Warnings: smut and angst

Reluctantly you followed the officer through to the jail. You’d been called an hour earlier but needed to finish up at work. You could hear John ranting to himself as he paced. As soon as he set his eyes on you he leant against the bars of the jail.

“You are a sight for sore eyes sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart. Do it again and I’ll leave you here.” You said firmly.

“Whatever you say Love. Now you couldn’t do me a favour and get me out could you? I’d call Chas but you know, the duty of a parent calls and I promised I could get by without him.” He frowned as he finished speaking. An odd look crossed your face, panic followed by pain and maybe guilt.

“I’ll help you but you’re going straight to wherever you came from.” You snapped and frowned at him until the officer cleared his throat.

“I’m sorry Ma’am but if you bail him. He’ll need to stay with you until the charges are dropped or they’re looked into further.” The officer beside you explained.

“Fine. I’ll call Chas for you. There, a loophole.” While you fumbled for your phone he cocked his head, watching you through the bars. As you pulled your phone from your bag he cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows.

“I promised Chas I’d stay out of trouble. I would hate to break my word.” He pressed.

“Funny. I thought that was your only schtick.” You sighed before turning to the officer. “Fine. I’ll take him.”

It took a while before all the papers were signed and money was handed over. By the time you were done Constantine was strolling out with his trenchcoat on and a cigarette tucked in his mouth.

“Could do with a drink after that.”

“Absolutely not! No drinking or smoking in my house!”

He frowned but didn’t answer as you got into your car. When he looked in the back there was a booster seat. The way he raised his eyebrows told you he had questions but got the sense he’d pressed you enough and he was very close to being tossed out. When you pulled up in front of a nursery school you started to get out of the car but paused.

“Stay here. Do not talk to anyone. Lord knows it was hard enough getting him in here I don’t need you Johnning it up.” You said so sharply that Constantine raised his eyebrows and gave you a nod in silent agreement.

He waited in the car, noticing couples and people rushing around the carpark. He observed them without much thought until he spotted you. A woman spoke quickly with you, two boys toddling along behind you as you paused to finish chatting and turned to the car. The boy took your hand and looked quite gleeful as he talked. You didn’t look so happy. As the child got closer Constantine realised why. The child couldn't be more than four or five but there was no mistaking whose it was. He had soft touches of you in his face, in his dimpled smile. But his looks came in broad strokes of curiously accession eyes, cheek and devilment.

“Ok. You clip in?” You said as you helped the boy into the booster seat and clipped him in.

“Yup! All safe!”

“Ok, we’ll go home and have a snack.” You started to say as you got into the car yourself. “Then I have to help my friend who's visiting, ok?”

“Well young master.” John started cheerfully, hoping to smother out the conflict he’d been feeling since he set eyes on the child with sarcasm and carefully worded denial but stopped when you glared at him.

“You remember when he had to move and uncle Chas came to help. Well he is a friend of uncle Chas and we’re helping him because Chas can’t.” You explained quickly. The child was quiet for a moment. When Constantine glanced in the rearview mirror he could see the suspicious glare he gave him. Not quite as withering as your but it got the point across.

**************

You’d made up a bed for Constantine in the small side room downstairs. Your son had eaten his snack while carefully observing the changes. Constantine was sure the boy had stared at him at the same time, being sure to glare at him, even when magic tricks were offered up to make peace. His eyes had widened and a delighted fascination flooded the boys face until you slapped Constantuine’s arm and hissed at him to stop. Your son watched the interaction and decided even magic couldn’t buy his affection, as long as it didn’t by his mothers.

You’d settled the boy in the living room with a cartoon playing on the tv. John had watched it for a while before going to find you. He watched you for a moment, humming to yourself as you started to cook. He’d had so many feelings before he hadn’t quite dealt with them. Now he was more than annoyed. “So. Am I supposed to ignore the obvious or do we pretend you have a type and the last time we saw each other wasn’t four and half years ago?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You answered. He watched you paused for a moment before returning to chopping vegetables.

“You’re right. I’m just off my rocker. There isn’t a chance the young lad looks like me now is there. No just me seeing things.”

“John… I. He’s my son, I have to keep him safe.”

“From me?”

The pain in his voice was clear and you felt the pang of guilt again. Chas had told you to give John a chance to prove himself. But you hadn’t been willing to bet your child’s life on John. You could have given in and you begged Chas to keep your son a secret because if you’d seen him. You knew you would have taken Chas’ advice.

“I need to finish dinner.” You answered and turned away from him. He sighed and shrugged off his coat.

“The least I can do is lend a hand while I’m here.” Constantine offered as he rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie.

Neither of you spoke as you cooked together, bar the few short instructions. As the two of you almost danced around each other it was hard to the feelings that had never quite gone away. “Can you help him set the table? I usually help him but this is almost ready.” You asked as you finished up, keeping an eye on the counter that was tickling down on the stove clock.

“I can do it.” He said until you sighed.

“He likes to help.” You insisted firmly and he nodded, heading to the living room.

“You wouldn’t mind helping me set the table would you lad? Not quite sure how your mum likes it.”

“I know how!” Came the cheerful voice. He emerged with a determined look and took Constantine’s hand, leading him to the cutlery draw. He carefully counted out each piece that was needed and handed them to Constantine who had a wistfully fond smile on his face. He crouched down and listened to the explanation as to why he didn’t need to get the spoons out. Then he followed obediently as your son climbed up on each dining chair and set the knife or fork in place. Once done they high fived. Hiding the slight smile you returned your attention to the food, starting to plate it up as your son picked his seat.

He warmed up to John as he ate, asking him where he was from because he sounded different. Before John could finish his long winded answer the conversation had moved on to the best toys and colours. After dinner Constantine was dragged off to see said toys and you were left alone. Taking a deep shaky breath you started to tidy up and thought about calling Chas. Watching from the doorway as John played with you son you felt another wave of guilt. They looked happy. You couldn’t recall John ever looking that happy.

You left them together until a good hour after your son’s bedtime. When you returned to inform him there was a chorus of disappointment and pleading for more time. Ultimately he relented to Constantine reading him a story, a few extra hugs goodnight and Constantine’s mean eggs. As long as they weren’t so mean he couldn’t eat them.

As the story was finished you smiled, watching John pull the blankets tighter around your son who had fallen asleep before John had gotten halfway through the book. Eventually he joined you in the doorway, looking back at the sleeping boy. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” you said quietly.

“Don’t worry about it. All the creeps and ghouls after me, you just tried to keep him safe.” Constantine answered quickly. His face gave him away as he spoke, gently shutting the door as he turned back to you.

“I almost told you. A few times.” You admitted, walking back to the living room to clear up there. John watched you thoughtfully, hands in his pockets as you went quiet before adding. “I wanted to but I just couldn’t… risk.”

“You were protecting him. Did a better job than I could have done on my own.” He answered, leaning against the wall as you stood up and smiled. Something in your stomach fluttered and you felt nervous, the way you had the night you’d slept together and he vanished before morning.

Trying to ignore it you moved past him and started to head to your room. He followed you out into the corridor and paused at the room you’d set up for him. “It’s good to see you again sweetheart.” He said softly.

After a brief pause you turned and grabbed him by the tie, pulling him towards your bedroom as you kissed him. There was a fumbling of clothes and desperate moans as the two of you moved. In a blur his head was buried in the crook of your neck, you straddled him as the two of you moved together. His hoarse moans were muffled by the kisses he scattered over your soft skin. He rolled the two of you and kissed you roughly. Five years of pent up emotion flooded through the both of you and soon enough he was panting beside you with a satisfied smile on his face.

“Will you stay this time?” You asked quietly. He didn’t answer, moving so your head lay on the crook of his shoulder, fingertips gently stroking your back so lightly that he pulled you to sleep. The last time, he’d turned up at your place battered and bruised, begged you to help him. He knew how you’d always been enraptured by his presence. He could always see it in your eyes, the way they lit up as he flirted with you. It had been one of the few normal nights he'd had in awhile. An emotional oasis. Had dinner, watched tv and you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder. You’d woken while he was tuking you into your bed and heading back to sleep on the sofa. He knew he could have listened to the way you called out for him, his voice cracked with sleep, he could have stayed and listened to it every morning.

You seemed nervous as you reached for his hand and spluttered out words, babbling until he’d smirked and made a joke. His smile dropped into playfulness as you slid his hand up your shirt and gave him a pleading look. He wasn’t sure if you’d grasped the chance to have your current infatuation or if he’d cracked giving into indulgence. The two of you barely left the bed for two days. Bar a takeaway on the second evening. For a night he lived the normal life, no demons or monsters. It took every ounce of self control he could muster not to wake you as he kissed you on the second evening, dressing and leaving you asleep in your bed, not daring to look back because he would leave if he did.

He was doing it again. It was almost cruel to both of you. But you were better off without him. You’d taken care of your son for so long on your own. Not a demon in sight. He thought as he kissed your forehead. He dressed quietly. In the kitchen he paused, stopping long enough to make the breakfast he promised, wrapping it in tin foil and leaving it on the side as he crept out of the house.

Chas had found him the next afternoon, sorting through books back at the water house. “Are you ok?” He’d asked.

“Oh I’m fine mate. Better than fine. Didn’t I tell you I'd be fine.” His voice didn’t sound right. It was straining. Guilt had permanently lodged itself in his chest and it heaved with each breath. He hadn’t felt guilty for leaving you last time.

“You’re being awfully quiet and… not yourself. What happened this weekend?”

“Oh you know. Got arrested sorting out a demon and got bailed out by the girl I should’ve probably ended up with but I, as she put it, Johnned everything up. Picked my son up from school for the first time, helped cook dinner… had a great time. Read him a bedtime story. Then urm. I had sex with (Y/N), remembered why I abandoned her the first time and decided to leave without so much as a thank you for paying to bail me out. Oh. But I did make breakfast before I left, just like I promised. How was your weekend?”

“Oh… it was fine. I had a nice time. Do I need to call someone. A lawyer? A therapist? Are you ok?”

“Not really no, Chas mate. But there isn’t much I can do about it now.”

“You could call (Y/N)... or I could drive you back?”

“And ruin the tradition of turning up every four and a half years and seducing her? No Chas. Besides I have demons to hunt down and send back to hell.” Constantine gave an awkward no in Chas’ direction and he turned back to the books on the table.

“I’m going to check in with (Y/N). Then I’ll find us something strong to drink.” Chas muttered, mostly to himself.

#john constantine #john constantine x reader #bonniebird #legends of tomorrow #constantine

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