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#book 3 not to mention all the other books that the writers also write for. mayhaps next year especially if the series f*nishes w*th b*ok 3
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The Crow Road by Iain Banks
I finished The Crow Road and had a little time to think about it. I'll put my thoughts under a Keep Reading in case anyone is trying to avoid spoilers.
As I speculated before, I think it's likely that The Crow Road is more related to Good Omens in philosophy than in plot. I mean, it's not that the plots necessarily have nothing in common, and we could be very surprised in the end of course, but now that I've read the whole book, its philosophical commonalities with GO are both apparent and kind of inspiring. Also, if I were a writer, I'd be more interested in dropping hints about what themes are important than telegraphing my whole plot ahead of time.
So here, I will describe the book and point out themes that I believe may reappear in Good Omens 3.
This is a long post. If you read it, make a cup of [beverage of choice].
Below are mentions of suicide, death/murder, and sexual acts.
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The Crow Road centers around a character named Prentice McHoan, a university student in Scotland who starts to sort out his complicated relationship with his complicated family as he explores the mystery of his uncle Rory's disappearance. Although the book is mostly from Prentice's perspective, the narration jumps around in time with the McHoan family. There are quite a lot of important characters to keep track of; the bare-bones summary I put below doesn't even include some of the important ones. I wanted to make the summary even shorter and simpler than this, but the truth is that this book is not short or simple, and if I made the summary any simpler, it might be downright misleading.
There are at least three major cultural aspects of The Crow Road that I am inexperienced with: the overall culture in the 1950s-1980s (I was born in 1988, so of course wasn't here for the relevant decades), the international experience of the Gulf War (again, born in 1988), and the history and culture of Scotland itself (I'm USAmerican with only reading as a source). As a result, I'm sure there are important dimensions to the book that I've missed. If someone has a different perspective taking some of these things into account, I'd love to know about it.
Also, keep in mind, there is a great deal of descriptive writing in this book. There are a lot of pages about the geography of Scotland, and about Prentice as a kid, and about Prentice's father and uncles hanging out together in their youth, and about various family incidents, and about Prentice spending time with his brothers and friends. At first, these passages seem to just make things more confusing, and in my head, I accused them of being "filler." But they definitely serve a purpose. They're a way of showing and not telling the characters' attitudes and relationships to each other. More importantly, because we get to actually live these experiences with the characters, they are what give all the plot points below their deeper emotional impacts. In other words, the everyday experiences give the plot its deeper meaning. They resonate with one of the core themes in the novel: that our experiences in life, rather than any supposed existence after death, are what matters.
The Crow Road's story is like this:
Prentice is rather directionless in life, and he seems to have trouble investing any energy in his own future as he moons over his unrequited feelings for an idealized young woman named Verity. Soon, Verity ends up in a romance with Prentice's brother, Lewis, and Prentice feels that Lewis "stole" her from him. Prentice has also become estranged from his father, Kenneth, over spirituality. Prentice believes there has to be something more after death because he feels it would be incredibly unfair if people didn't get anything other than this one life; Kenneth is not only a passionate atheist, but is offended by the notion of an afterlife.
Prentice's uncle Hamish, Kenneth's brother, has always been religious, although his religion involves a number of bizarre and offbeat ideas of his own, with inspiration from more traditional Christian notions. Prentice is not really sure about this ideology, but he's willing to talk to Hamish about it and even participates during Hamish's prayers, whereas Kenneth is openly scornful of Hamish's beliefs. Hamish interprets this as Prentice being on "his side."
Prentice has a few opportunities to go back and talk to his father, and is begged to do so by his mom, Mary, with whom his relationship is still good. Mary doesn't want either of the men to give up their inner ideas about the universe; she just wants them to agree to disagree and move on as a family. Prentice says he will visit, but he just keeps putting it off and off and off.
Prentice acquires a folder containing some of his missing uncle Rory's notes in the process of hooking up with Rory's former girlfriend, Janice Rae, who seems to have taken a shine to Prentice because he reminds her of Rory. Using the contents of the folder, Prentice wants to piece together the great literary work that Rory left unfinished, which Rory titled Crow Road; however, it becomes apparent that Rory didn't turn his concepts into anything substantial and only had a bunch of disconnected notes and ideas. He hadn't even decided whether Crow Road would be a novel, a play, or something else. The few bits of Rory's poetry for Crow Road read are bleak and depressing.
Prentice also spends a lot of time with a young woman named Ash. They've been good friends since childhood and seem to have a somewhat flirtatious dynamic now, but they aren't in a romantic relationship; mostly, they drink and hang out together. Ash tells Prentice bluntly to get his life back on track when she finds out he's failing at school, avoiding his family, and engaging in shoplifting. She is a voice of reason, and when Prentice insists to her that he's just a failure, she reminds him that actually, he's just a kid.
Prentice's efforts to figure out Rory's story or location stagnate, and he continues to fail at school and avoid his father. He then receives word that Kenneth was killed while debating faith with Hamish. In fact, Kenneth dies after a fall from a church lightning rod, which he was climbing in an act of defiance against Hamish's philosophy when it was struck by lightning; Hamish is convinced that Kenneth had incurred God's wrath. Ash is there for support when Prentice finds out about the death.
With Ash's help, Prentice returns to his hometown again to help manage Kenneth's affairs. Prentice speaks with a very shaken Hamish, who is handling Kenneth's death with extreme drama and making it all about his own feelings. Hamish tells Prentice that Kenneth was jealous that Prentice shared more in common with Hamish's faith than with Kenneth's lack of faith. However, this isn't really true, and as he contemplates his father's death, Prentice begins to internalize one of the last things Hamish reported that Kenneth had argued: "All the gods are false. Faith itself is idolatry."
As the chapters go on, Prentice is compelled by some of the meaningful items related to Rory that he discovers in his father's belongings. He gains a renewed sense of purpose trying to solve the mystery of where Rory went and what happened to him. Among the interesting items are an ancient computer disk of Rory's that Prentice can't access with any equipment he can find; Ash uses her connections in the US and Canada to find a computer expert who can finally open the files on it. This takes quite a while, since the disk has to be mailed and Ash's connection is investigating the disk only in his free time.
Prentice also discovers that his feelings for Verity have changed. He no longer feels angry with Lewis for "stealing her." At first, Prentice's narration describes this as his feelings "cooling" as a result of the trauma of losing his father, but interestingly, this soon means Prentice gets to know Verity as a sister-in-law without getting caught up in jealous romantic feelings. Verity gets along well with the family, and Prentice is actually happy to discover that she and Lewis have a baby on the way. Prentice's relationship with Lewis improves greatly as well, partly because he is no longer jealous and partly because he realizes he does not want to lose Lewis, too.
Ash's connection who was looking at Rory's computer disk comes through and sends the printed contents of the files to Prentice. The files reveal to him that Rory likely knew Prentice's uncle, Ferg, murdered his wife by unbuckling her seat belt and crashing their car. Rory had written out a fictional version of events and considered using it in Crow Road. I'm not clear on exactly how certain Rory was about Ferg's crime, or whether Rory would have intentionally reported Ferg, or whether Rory even had enough proof to publicly accuse Ferg of murder, but people would likely have connected the dots in Rory's work and become suspicious of Ferg. For this reason, Prentice believes Ferg murdered Rory as well.
Prentice confronts Ferg. He doesn't get a confession and leaves Ferg's home with no concrete proof of anything; Ferg denies it all. But Prentice is soon physically assaulted in the night, and it seems Ferg was almost certainly the culprit, because he hadn't been home that same night, and he had injuries (probably from being fought off) the next day. A day or two later, Ferg's body is found unconscious in the cockpit of a plane, which crashes into the ocean. It's uncertain whether this was a suicide, but Prentice suspects it was. Rory's body is then soon recovered from the bottom of a waterway near Prentice's home, where Ferg had sunk it years ago.
As the mysteries are solved, Prentice realizes his feelings for Ash are romantic love. However, it's too late, he thinks, because Ash is about to take a job in Canada, where she may or may not stay. Prentice also hesitates to approach her because he's embarrassed about his previous behavior, venting all his angst about Verity and his father. He isn't sure she would even want to be in a relationship with him after that. But the very night before Ash leaves, she kisses Prentice on the cheek, which leads to a deeper kiss. They finally connect, have sex, and confess their mutual feelings. Ash still goes to her job in Canada, but says she'll come back when Prentice is done with his studies that summer.
The relationship's future is somewhat uncertain because something could come up while Ash is in Canada, but Prentice is hopeful. The book ends with Prentice getting ready to graduate with his grades on track as a history scholar, fully renouncing his belief in an afterlife while he acknowledges the inherent importance of our experiences in our lives now, and enjoying his time with Lewis and Verity and his other family members.
What's the point of all these hundreds of pages?
Well, look at all of the above; there's definitely more than one point. But the main point I took away is that we get this one life, with our loved ones in this world here and now, and this is where we make our meanings. There is no other meaning, but that doesn't mean there's no meaning at all. It means the meaning is here.
It's not death that gives life its meaning. It's the things we do while alive that give life its deeper meaning.
The Crow Road is described (on Wikipedia) as a Bildungsroman, a story focusing on the moral and philosophical growth and change of its main character as they transition from childhood to adulthood ("coming-of-age novel" is a similar term that is interchangeable, but more vague and not necessarily focused on morality/philosophy). And, indeed, all of the plots ultimately tie into Prentice's changed philosophy.
After his argument with Kenneth, Prentice feels childish and humiliated, and as a result, he refuses to go back home, which leads to a spiral of shame and depression. Kenneth dies and Prentice realizes it's too late to repair the relationship, which also leads him to realize it's what we do in life that matters, and that therefore, his father's argument was correct after all.
At the end of the novel, Prentice outright describes his new philosophy. However, I can't recall one specific passage where Prentice describes the process of how he changed his mind (if anyone else can remember something I missed, do let me know). There is, however, a moment when his narration indicates that Hamish seems less disturbed by his own part in the incident that led to Kenneth's death and more disturbed by the notion that his beliefs might actually be true: there might actually be an angry, vengeful God. In other words, Hamish's philosophy was selfish at its core.
My interpretation is that when his father died, Prentice realized three things: how utterly self-serving Hamish's devout faith is, how Kenneth's untimely death proves the importance of working things out now rather than in an imaginary afterlife, and how much profound meaning Kenneth had left behind despite having no faith at all. After these realizations, a determined belief in an afterlife no longer makes our lives here more profound like Prentice once thought it did.
Also, it's worth noting that this incident changes Prentice's idea of partnership, too. He loses interest in this distant, idealized woman he's been after. In love as in the rest of life, Prentice lets go of his ideals, and in doing so, he makes room for true meaning, both in a sincere familial, platonic connection with Verity and a sincere intimate, romantic connection with Ash.
But what about the sex scene?!
Yes, indeed, at the tail end of the story, Prentice and Ash have sex and admit they want to be in a relationship together. Prentice's narration describes them sleeping together and having intercourse not just once, but many times, including some slow and relaxed couplings during which they flex the muscles in their private parts to spell out "I.L.Y." and "I.L.Y.T." to each other in Morse code. This is relevant because earlier, they had been surprised and delighted to discover that they both knew Morse code; it isn't a detail that came from nowhere.
I didn't get the impression that this scene was trying to be especially titillating to the reader. It was mostly just a list of stuff the characters did together. I felt the point was that they were still anxious about being emotionally honest, a little desperate to convey their feelings without having to speak them out loud, and awkward in a way that made it obvious that their primary concern was the feelings, not the sexual performance. They cared about each other, but they weren't trying to be impressive or put on a show; contrast this with previous scenes where Prentice would act like a clown in front of Ash to diffuse his own anxiety. I've always thought that being able to have awkward sex and still enjoy it is a good sign.
Okay, so what does this all have to do with Good Omens?
Here's where I have to get especially interpretive. I'm doing my best, but of course, not everyone reading this will have the same perspective on Good Omens, the Final Fifteen especially. I believe similar themes are going to resonate between The Crow Road and Good Omens regardless of our particular interpretations of the characters' behavior and motivations, but I suppose it could hit differently for some people.
The TL;DR: I see similar themes between The Crow Road and Good Omens in:
The importance of mortal life on Earth
Meaning (or purpose) as something that we create as we live, not something that is handed to us by a supreme being
Sincere connection and love/passion (for people, causes, arts, life's work, etc) as a type of meaning/purpose
Relationships as reflections of philosophy
The dual nature of humanity
Life on Earth as the important part of existence is a core theme in Good Omens, and has been since the very beginning. We all already know Adam chose to preserve the world as it already is because he figured this out, and we all already know Aziraphale and Crowley have been shaped for the better by their experiences on Earth. But Good Omens isn't done with this theme by a long shot. I think this is the most important thematic commonality Good Omens will have with The Crow Road. Closely related is the notion that we create our meanings as we live, rather than having them handed to us. Isn't this, in a way, what Aziraphale struggles with in A Companion to Owls? He's been given this meaning, this identity, that doesn't fit him. But does he have anything else to be? Not yet.
Partnerships as a parallel to the characters' philosophical development also resonates as a commonality that The Crow Road may have with Good Omens. Prentice's obsession with Verity goes away when he starts to embrace the importance of life on Earth and makes room for his sincere relationship with Ash. Note their names: "Verity" is truth, an ideal Prentice's father instills in him; "Ashley" means "dweller in the ash tree meadow" in Anglo-Saxon, according to Wikipedia, and "ash" is one of the things people return to after death. Prentice literally trades his high ideals for life on Earth. We see in Aziraphale a similar tug-o'-war between Heaven's distant ideals and Crowley's Earthly pleasures, so I can see a similar process potentially playing out for him.
I don't particularly recall a ton of thematic exploration of free will in The Crow Road. However, there is a glimmer of something there: Prentice feels excessively controlled by Kenneth's desire to pass down his beliefs, and part of the reason Prentice is so resistant to change is simply his frustration with feeling censored and not being taken seriously. As the reader, I do get the feeling that while Prentice is immature, Kenneth made major mistakes in handling their conflict, too. And Kenneth's mistakes come from trying to dictate Prentice's thoughts. There is likely some crossover with Good Omens in the sense that I'm pretty sure both stories are going to take the position that people need to be allowed to make mistakes, and to do things that one perceives as mistakes, without getting written off as "stupid" or "bad" or otherwise "unworthy."
Suffice it to say that the human characters in Good Omens will also certainly play into these themes, but it's hard to write about them when we don't know much about them except that one of them is almost certainly the reincarnation of Jesus. This also makes me suspect perhaps the human cast will be 100% entirely all-new, or mostly new, symbolic of how Aziraphale and Crowley have immersed themselves in the ever-evolving, ever-changing world of life on Earth. Alternatively, if we encounter human characters again from Season 1 or 2, perhaps the ways they've grown and changed will be highlighted. For example, even in real-world time, Adam and Warlock have already, as of the time I'm writing this, gone through at least one entire life stage (from 11 in 2019 to 16 in 2024). They'll be legal adults in a couple of years, and if there's a significant time skip, they could be much older. If characters from Season 1 do reappear and themes from The Crow Road are prominent, I would expect either some key scenes highlighting contrasts and changes from their younger selves or for stagnation and growth to be a central part of their plot.
The more I write, the more I just interpret everything in circles. Hopefully this post has at least given you a decent idea of what The Crow Road is like and how it may relate to Good Omens.
I'll end this post with a quotation that feels relevant:
Telling us straight or through his stories, my father taught us that there was, generally, a fire at the core of things, and that change was the only constant, and that we – like everybody else – were both the most important people in the universe, and utterly without significance, depending, and that individuals mattered before their institutions, and that people were people, much the same everywhere, and when they appeared to do things that were stupid or evil, often you hadn’t been told the whole story, but that sometimes people did behave badly, usually because some idea had taken hold of them and given them an excuse to regard other people as expendable (or bad), and that was part of who we were too, as a species, and it wasn’t always possible to know that you were right and they were wrong, but the important thing was to keep trying to find out, and always to face the truth. Because truth mattered. Iain Banks, The Crow Road
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thatdeadaquarius · 4 months
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About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".
Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.
If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.
I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.
NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM
I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!
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Sun: Reader (you/they/them)
Orbit: Headcanons-ish
Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?
Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.
Comment if any missed, please.
FULL STOP.
THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO
You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever
and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)
can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??
id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)
also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭
the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy
(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)
(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)
dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.
endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)
the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it
speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.
Alhaitham.
sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,
Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature
and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))
(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)
On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)
Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular
like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol
(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)
Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,
but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol
(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)
Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao
(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)
(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)
ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao
Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol
Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)
Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,
Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions
THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO
Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao
and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)
You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa
from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed
(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)
Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol
that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.
Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not
(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )
oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹
OMFG
ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-
the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO
like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)
STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)
for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP
IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA
that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀
(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)
Also yes.
Cyno is a fanboy.
(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)
(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)
(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)
an iced coffee? for me?? :0
ok but real talk…
wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!
i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)
but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o
ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)
Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,
💀♒
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If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"
(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily
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septembercfawkes · 9 months
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7 (More) Things I Wish I'd Known as a Beginning Writer
Last time I shared seven things I wish I'd known as a beginning writer. Unsurprisingly, that wasn't an exhaustive list, and I've been thinking about it some more. So, I present to you, seven more things I wish I'd known as a beginning writer. . . .
1. The Central Relationship Needs an Arc and an Actual Plot
Many of us have been told we need a relationship plotline in our stories, but few of us have received any guidance on how to actually do that (unless, of course, you are writing romance).
And in my first novel attempt, back in the day, the central relationship was not romantic. I had an idea for what the relationship was like, but partway through the story, it wasn't working. And it was becoming super annoying.
What I didn't realize was that it was annoying because it was mostly static. Nothing was changing. The characters weren't growing closer together or further apart. Instead of the relationship plotline having "peaks" and "valleys," it was mostly just a straight line.
Of course, I knew it was going to change at the end.
But what I didn't understand was that it still needed a plot through the middle. 🤦‍♀️ Which means it still needed the basics of plot: goal, antagonist, conflict, consequences.
Not just interesting interactions and conversations. Not just banter and pastimes.
In my last post, I mentioned the three basic types of goals: obtain, avoid, maintain.
Well, in relationship plots, this translates into these three basic goals: grow closer to the person (obtain), push further away from the person (avoid), maintain the relationship as is (maintain).
The antagonistic force is whatever gets in the way of that. If your protagonist wants to draw closer to this person, then an antagonistic force should be pushing him away. If he wants to be apart from this person, then the antagonistic force should be pushing him closer. If he wants to maintain the relationship as is, then the antagonistic force is what disrupts that. This creates conflicts and should lead to consequences. 
If you have a relationship plotline, it needs an actual plot.
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2. Choose a Tentative Theme Early, to Better Shape and Evaluate Your Story
If you've been following me for a while, you probably know I consider these three things to be the triarchy (formerly known as "trinity") of storytelling: character, plot, and theme. 
Each of these elements comes out of and influences the others.
This also means you can use each of these to help shape and evaluate the quality of the others.
It's much easier to write a solid story when you understand all three.
If you have only one or two pieces, it's harder to discern which ideas are just okay and which ideas are great. It's harder to discern what does or does not belong in your story.
The best ideas for your story are going to come from and touch each of those three things.
Most beginners are familiar with concepts of characters and plot.
Few know anything about theme.
And fewer still have the desire to learn anything about theme. It's often seen as unimportant or something that "just happens." Okay, sure, it could just happen. Maybe. 
But writing your story will (in the long run) be much easier if you at least understand some basics about theme.
I have so much to say on theme, it could probably fill up a book (and maybe someday it will), but for now, if you want more information on it . . . I'd recommend starting with this article: The Secret Ingredients for Writing Theme. It breaks down the key elements of theme, which can give you a good foundation.
Even if your theme ends up changing a bit, starting with an idea in mind will help keep your story on track.
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3. Your Story Needs a Counterargument
Remember when I was talking about theme, and implied I wasn't going to go into it that much more? Well . . . I guess I'm going to go into it a little more.
The thematic statement is the argument the story is making about life.
But it's not really an argument if no one is disagreeing.
This means your story needs a counterargument (I call this the "anti-theme").
This counterargument will often manifest within the protagonist (as a "flaw" or misbelief or something the character needs to cast off or overcome) and/or within the main antagonistic force. 
It can technically show up in other places and in other ways, but let's keep this basic.
So if your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to be merciful, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to enforce justice (Les Mis).
If your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to ask for, give, and receive help, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to avoid, withhold, and refuse help and do everything yourself (A Man Called Otto).
If your story ultimately shows the audience that it's best to rely on faith, then a counterargument for that could be that it's best to rely on technology (Star Wars IV: A New Hope).
The two arguments are locked in a "battle" of sorts, similar to how the protagonist and antagonist are, because they are in opposition to one another (see #5 in previous article).
The arguments need to be "shown" more than "told." And the counterargument should be given fair weight, because doing so will actually make the whole theme (and plot and characters) stronger.
Here are some examples to think about:
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4. Writing More isn't Enough to Take Your Work to a Professional Level
We are often told that if we want to be great writers, we need to write more. And this is true. To an extent. 
I've worked with writers who had been writing for decades, but were still at a beginner level.
I have known writers who bent over backward to meet word count goals, only to end up with a pile of slush they couldn't see their way out of.
I myself have spent enormous amounts of time and words trying to write something brilliant.
But for the vast majority of people, putting in the time and word count isn't enough.
What is the point of clocking in more and more hours and typing more and more words if you don't know how professional-level stories actually work?
Don't get me wrong--you absolutely need to put in time and words, and they absolutely will help you improve! And yes, quantity can improve quality.
But also remember this: You don't know what you don't know.
And if you are practicing imperfectly, that doesn't guarantee that one day it's going to be perfect.
If I have lousy technique every time I go bowling (and frankly, I do), that doesn't guarantee I'm going to get any better if I don't know what I'm doing wrong or how to improve or what good technique looks like--no matter how much time I put in.
This is sadly usually true for writing.
I'm not saying that no one gets to the professional level by only clocking in writing hours, but just that . . . I don't think most of us do. And I think some of us could spend decades clocking in the hours, and really, just be spinning our hamster wheels because we don't know what we don't know--we don't know why professional stories are professional level, so we don't know how to improve.
Hands-on practice is vital.
But so is education.
Sometimes it's actually more beneficial to learn about the craft from someone than to complete your Xth writing sprint to meet your word count goal.
If I could speak to my past self, I would tell beginner me to spend more time studying the craft. In the long run, it would have actually helped me get better easier and much faster than clocking in another hour of writing (that would have ended up in the garbage bin anyway). I've put in a lot of hours that didn't get me very far because I didn't fully understand where I was trying to get, or how.
There is always more you can learn. And especially in the writing world, there is always another perspective to learn what you think you already know. Many writers talk about the same subjects, but come at them from different angles, and learning even those different angles can help you refine your understanding of that subject.
I'm not going to say that tomorrow you have to sign up to take a bunch of courses (though you can if you want), but make time to learn about the craft regularly. You may want to ask yourself: Is it better for me right now to write for an hour or to learn for an hour?
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5. Conflict for the Sake of Conflict is Actually Filler--You Need Consequences!
There is an adage in the writing community, which is that story = conflict.
And once again, it's true. To an extent.
But adding a bunch of conflict isn't enough to make a story good.
If the conflict doesn't change anything--if it doesn't have at least the power to change any outcomes, then what is the point? It's just stuff happening.
Who cares if a bomb is going to go off, if no one or nothing significant is in danger of being blown up?
Conflicts need consequences to be meaningful.
It's really the consequences that hook and draw readers into the story. Or at least, the potential consequences. It's potential consequences that make up the stakes in the story.
And they draw the audience in because the audience wants to see if what could happen actually does happen. 
Once the audience understands the potential consequences (the stakes), they care about the conflict, because how the conflict is resolved will affect what happens next. The conflict now has significance because it changes the direction of the story, it changes the future.
Consequences also improve the story by strengthening a sense of cause and effect.
As I touched on in my previous post (see #4), random bad things happening is actually less effective (and makes characters less sympathetic). And random good things happening is also less effective (and makes characters less admirable). Instead, it's better if the bad and good things that happen come as a consequence to how a conflict was resolved.
This often happens even at a scene level. Just as nearly every scene should have a goal and antagonist, nearly every scene should have conflict. How that conflict is resolved in that scene should also carry consequences and affect what's going to be happening in the near future of the story (generally speaking).
Consequences also allow the audience to experience tension, which, as counterintuitive as it sounds, can be more effective than outright conflict. Tension is the potential for problems to happen. Conflict is actual problems happening. Tension makes the audience feel suspense. But suspense often only exists because the audience understands the potential consequences (the stakes) in play.
If there are no known consequences, then the conflict often doesn't really matter to the audience, because they can't see how it will change anything significantly.
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6. Starting in Medias Res is Actually Harder, not Easier
A lot of beginning writers struggle with beginnings--which makes sense, because they can be very difficult to write.
And so a lot of beginning writers are told to open their stories in medias res, which translates to "in the midst of things." This basically means you open the story up with some form of rising action (conflict)--usually it's that scene's rising action (see #2 in my previous post).
In other words, you are essentially cutting off the scene's setup.
While this can be effective, and while I may be unpopular in my opinion, I don't feel that it makes things easier. In fact, more often than not, I think it's actually harder to start in medias res.
This relates to what we just talked about above in #5.
When we start a scene in medias res, we are starting with conflict, but if the audience doesn't know why the conflict matters, then it won't hold them for very long.
When you cut off the setup of a scene, you now have to find a way to convey who is there, where is "there," what is there, when, and why we care (the why is the stakes).
--all without slowing the pacing.
This is why I think it's often (though not always) more difficult.
Now don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying you can't start in medias res, or that you shouldn't start in medias res.
I'm just saying it's tricky.
Instead, I would personally recommend starting just before the scene's conflict. Start early enough to give the audience context to understand what is about to go down: where and when the scene takes place, who is there, what the goal is, and what the potential consequences are. Make the setup long enough to convey the important stuff, but short enough to stay interesting.
Then get to the scene's conflict, the rising action.
You can read more than you probably want to know about in medias res here.
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7. Yes, You Really Need to Do That If You Want to Write at a Professional Level
This last thing is pretty nonspecific, as it's not about one particular piece of writing advice. When I started taking writing seriously and going to conferences and listening to podcasts and what have you, I often felt skeptical of what I heard. Now, sometimes that skepticism served me well (and has led to many of my blog posts), but other times that skepticism held me back. What's the difference?
Being skeptical of "writing rules" has, in the long (long) run, served me well, because it has actually led me to better understand the rules, why they are rules, how they work, and how and when to break them.
But sometimes it wasn't that I was skeptical of the rule itself. It was that I was skeptical that I needed to do X at all. I was skeptical that professionals actually did X.
For example, I would hear about Swain's scene structureand think, Yeah, there is no way most people actually do all this and put all this thought into their scenes. 
Or I would run into a breakdown of character arcs and think, Yeah, there is no way most people actually do all these things to write a great character arc.
And in the community, I have brushed up against this same mentality from others. Viewpoint is a popular subject. "Do I really need to be in one character's viewpoint at a time?" or "Is it really that big of a deal that I described the viewpoint character's face?"
And I'm like . . . on the one hand, no, and on the other hand, well yes--if you want to write at a professional level and be competing professionally.
Not that no professional ever varies from that, but just that those are exceptions that prove the point.
And it's not even that every professional is consciously doing X thing. They may be doing it subconsciously. But X thing usually still needs to be there, for the story to sound professional.
So yes, you really do need to do X thing if you want to be writing at a professional level.
If you don't care about writing at a professional level, then obviously you don't have to. It's totally valid to write for a hobby or just for fun.
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Now I will echo what I said last time. If I had waited until I understood all these things to start writing, I would have been waiting forever. And some things I would have never properly understood without the actual writing process. Yes, we need to be educated on how stories work, but it's also important to sit down and write.
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fiveht · 13 days
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Proof of life (Adore pt 3)
Hello my sweet angel babies ♥️
I'm not going to be able to adequately express my gratitude for the steady stream of love (and concern, sorry) I've been receiving over the past couple of months. I'm so sorry I've been AWOL, it will definitely happen again. Because see, for me, I usually have to make a choice between social and creative fandom participation. My battery is small, and takes a long time to charge.
Thank you to everyone who's left comments and asks and DMs since I've been gone. I don't think I can respond to all of it, but rest assured those messages ping my cold, dead heart every time I see them.
So I'm gonna go out on a limb here. I did this same thing months and months ago, when I was working on Head Over Feet, and let me be clear: posting even a single word of a WIP goes against my every instinct and principle as an author. I am someone who likes to finish an entire story before I post any of it, and on top of that, I am NOT a fast writer, so the expectations that I'm setting up here might not be advisable. But I did it before and managed to finish the thing, and I want to give you guys something in exchange for being so unbelievably awesome, so here I am again.
This will probably be the only time I mention this story in public until it's finished and posted, and inquiries about my progress are unlikely to help with the writing process, I'm just saying. I reserve the right to change every last word of this before the final draft, and I also reserve the right to fall off the face of the planet and simply never finish it, as much as I will strive to prevent that from happening. Please be patient with me.
Anyway, here is my paltry offering to say thanks for the love: the (VERY rough) first ~1300 words of the third instalment of The Adventures of Soft Daddy and Danger Twink.
Sirius secures his handheld shower head to its holder at the edge of his clawfoot tub, and steps out carefully onto the bathmat. He shivers in the cool air outside the shower curtain; it's about twenty degrees below zero outside, so even if he could afford to run his ancient radiator at full blast, it probably wouldn't help much.
He dries himself off and checks his reflection in the mirror, turning his face this way and that as he tugs his hair out of the bun he'd piled it into to keep it dry during his shower. There's no need for makeup tonight, not when he's not even planning to put on clothes.
It's incrementally warmer when he steps out into the main room of his apartment. He gathers an array of splayed text books and notes from his bed and dumps them carelessly onto the couch, then closes his new laptop and places it delicately on the coffee table. It's the most expensive thing he owns, save for the Gucci backpack currently sitting in his wardrobe with a three-inch berth around it like his shoes and other bags might somehow contaminate it. It's weird owning rich-people stuff when you are still, objectively, broke as fuck.
He perches on the edge of his bed and sets his phone to charge, because his battery doesn't even last a day anymore, and he's going to need it this evening. He tucks it in next to his pillow and picks up his new toy.
The plug isn't much larger than the one he already has. A little longer, which is appealing, but no wider, so it shouldn't be a challenge to get it in comfortably. He disconnects it from its charger and hefts it in his hand, feeling the added weight from the electronics inside.
He picks up his phone, and hesitates when he sees the notification waiting for him.
Rieka: let's go out tomorrow
Rieka: the fact that we haven't been drunk since the term started is criminal
Rieka: we've had two chem labs and zero drinks
Sirius purses his lips, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. There's a fine line here, and he hasn't quite found it yet.
Me: got plans
Me: raincheck?
So complete avoidance is the best strategy, right?
Rieka: booooo 👎
He sighs, but at least she's not asking for an explanation. He opens a different conversation then, pushing all thoughts of Rieka Lupin into a tidy, sealed compartment, not to be opened during certain activities with a certain relative of hers.
Me: i'm ready
Me: are you in your office?
Daddy: Yup, I've got a few minutes
Daddy: Want me to call?
Instead of answering, Sirius hits the call button himself.
"Hey baby," Remus answers. His voice is already smooth and honey-sweet, and just from that, Sirius knows he's planning to lay it on thick tonight.
"Hi daddy," Sirius says with a smile. "Should I put it in now?"
There's a low chuckle over the line. "Are we feeling eager?"
"Always," Sirius says, laying back on his bed.
"Use the good lube I got you, it's gonna be in there a while."
He switches the call to speaker, and snags the bottle from his nightstand. "I threw out the old stuff, you've got me ruined for cheap lube."
"Only the best for that ass," Remus says, and Sirius can hear his smirk.
He gives the plug a liberal coating, running his fingers along its shape, his dick twitching just at the feel of the silky-smooth silicone, at the anticipation of what's about to happen. He spreads his legs wide, drawing one knee up to give himself easier access.
"Take it slow," Remus says, succinctly heading off Sirius' impulse to just shove the thing inside himself in one go. "Rub the tip against yourself, so you're nice and wet."
Sirius shuts his eyes as he obeys, sliding the slick end of the toy over his entrance. "Okay."
"Are you going to be a good boy for daddy tonight?"
"Uh-huh," Sirius says, teasing the very tip of the plug in and out of his hole.
"Tell me how."
"I'm not gonna touch."
"You're not gonna touch, and you're not gonna come."
"Yeah," Sirius says. His cock is starting to harden as his body tries to draw the plug inside. "Can I put it in, daddy?"
"Slow," Remus reminds him, "Slide it in nice and slow for me, baby."
Sirius catches his lip between his teeth and tries to push the plug in slowly, the way he knows Remus would do if he was here. 
The shower has left him relaxed and more than ready, and it's hard not to take advantage, just press the toy in to its limit because he can. But he's working on his patience -- under Remus' careful tutelage -- so he shuts his eyes and tries to savour it, the tease of the plug's rubber tip at his entrance, the slow stretch as he eases it past the slight resistance before he sighs, and his body eagerly accepts the intrusion.
"Mmmm," Sirius sighs as he settles the base of the plug flush against his entrance, shifting his hips and feeling the constant, dull pressure against his prostate.
"How's it feel?" 
"Good," Sirius says, splaying his legs out and just enjoying the pleasant fullness. It's been almost a week since Remus last fucked him, and that's just way too long. Christmas really spoiled him. He tugs the blankets up around him, because it's going to take some time before his body temperature is high enough to fight against the chill in his apartment.
"Have you tried out the settings at all?" Remus asks him, and Sirius picks up the phone, switching off speaker and holding it to his ear.
"No," he says, grinding his ass down against the bed to test the plug's reach inside him. "I thought you'd rather do the honours."
Remus hums, and Sirius hears the phone shifting in his grip. "I'm gonna turn it on, okay? Lowest setting."
"O--" Sirius stutters as the plug buzzes to life inside him, nestled snug against his prostate and sending little zings of pleasure down his legs. "Fuck that feels good. That's the lowest setting?"
"It is," Remus confirms. "Want to run through them all, see how high it goes? Or would you rather be surprised?"
"Mmmm, surprise me."
"Surprise it is," Remus says, and Sirius hears shuffling papers in the background as he prepares for his night class. Psychology 1001, Thursdays, 7-9:30PM. Two and a half hours of a lecture that Remus swears he's given so many times he could recite it in his sleep, so why not give himself something fun to focus on while he goes through the motions? 
Being privy to all of this brilliant, upstanding man's secret perversions is a privilege Sirius does not take lightly.
"You can turn it off from the app if you need to," Remus is saying, "Or you can call me and I'll switch it off. My phone's on vibrate, so I'll see it right away."
Sirius smiles to himself. "Got it," he says, though this is a rehashing of the rules that Remus had laid out when he'd brought the plug over last weekend. He'd called it a "late Christmas gift", as if he hadn't already given Sirius several thousand dollars worth of presents on Christmas morning.
There's more rustling over the line, the squeak of a chair. 
"Tell me again how you're going to be good tonight."
"I'm not gonna touch myself, and I'm not gonna come." The toy is still buzzing away inside him, making everything a little fuzzy at the edges. 
"Tell me why."
"'Cause daddy's in charge, even when he's not here."
"Good boy."
Sirius squirms with pleasure, his cock smearing a little drop of fluid on his belly as the toy hums insistently at his prostate.
"I have to head out," Remus says. "How do you feel?"
"Good," Sirius says, his abs tensing as he shifts his legs and the angle of the toy changes. "Excited."
"Me too," Remus says softly. "I'll talk to you soon, beautiful. Send me some pictures." With a low beep, the call disconnects.
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em-dash-press · 1 year
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Connecting With Your Reader's Emotions
We’ve all read a book or story that captured our hearts and made us feel things very deeply. It’s a superpower writers have, but it isn’t something we’re born with.
Connecting with your reader’s emotion happens when you’ve practiced writing. It becomes easier after each rough draft, each great draft, and each terrible draft.
But—if you want to save yourself some time, these are a few perspectives you can use to sharpen your writing tools.
1. Display Your Protagonist’s Inner Emotions
Your readers want to experience a character’s journey by connecting with them emotionally. We pick up books to feel things while learning something or just taking a break from life.
Displaying your protagonist’s inner conflict could look something like: She saw the ghost in the hallway, which scared her.
Your reader will feel more engaged if you describe how fear makes your protagonist feel instead of them feeling fear generally: She saw the ghost in the hallway and fear shot through her body like lightning.
You don’t need tons of flowery language to make your reader feel the same things as your character. Sometimes a minor descriptor or simile can do the job.
2. Show Your Protagonist’s Feelings Through External Reactions
Emotions don’t solely exist inside our hearts and minds. We also have external reactions to them. That could be nodding in confusion, shifting uncomfortably in a chair, or bending over laughing.
Consider this example:
“I love your laugh,” Anita said to Alice. “It makes my heart skip a beat.”
Heat spread through Alice’s cheeks as she smiled.
“Oh, you don’t mean that.”
You don’t need to mention how it feels to receive a compliment from a crush or why flattery is nice to hear. The physical reaction of blushing is something the reader can relate to and understand.
3. Make Your Reader Feel Something Your Character Doesn’t
This is a fun one. Sometimes characters have to figure something out, but the reader already knows what’s going on.
This could happen when you’re writing a horror story that is supposed to teach the reader about the joy of recognizing your own strength. The protagonist has the skills in the beginning to defeat the evil antagonist, but must reach rock bottom before cheering himself on. The whole time, the reader knows they can beat the antagonist and survive because they have the brains/strength/creativity, etc.
You could also write an enemies-to-lovers arc where it’s obvious to the reader that both characters are in love with each other long before they realize it. The reader should want them to embrace the scary feeling of falling in love, because that’s what you’re trying to teach through your story.
Consider Your Story’s Purpose
Writers have a purpose behind every story. What do you want readers to learn, consider, or experience through your own? You can use these methods of connecting with your reader’s emotions to make your plot’s purpose that much more powerful and engaging.
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mrghostrat · 3 months
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some tips for writing flow
i've had a lot of comments complimenting my writing style, most of which don't know how to explain or describe what they like about it. i never really knew either, but i've been paying more attention to the way i write things lately, in the hope of being able to understand and explain it.
a lot of this is "based on feel" with no hard and fast rules, but there's also very tangible techniques you can hopefully work into your own writing, if that makes sense? idk is this anything—
1 - sentence beats, and alternating them.
this is probably the biggest thing in my writing. i've realised my sentences can be measured in beats, based on their length and how many sections they can be broken into. the pattern changes often, and i don't have a concrete rule in how i fill a paragraph (again, i've only just put words to any of this), but it's probably the most important part of my flow. let's have a look:
1 beat: • this is probably the biggest thing in my writing.
2 beats: • i've realised my sentences can be measured in beats • based on their length and how many sections they can be broken into.
3 beats: • the pattern changes often • and i don't have a concrete rule in how i fill a paragraph • but it's probably the most important part of my flow.
it looks like a favour certain patterns, the only real "rule" i use is to construct a paragraph with various beats, and never put two side by side. whenever i'm struggling with my flow, it's usually because i've put two of the same beats next to each other and everything feels either stiff or crowded. i rarely put two side by side, unless it's for specific emphasis.
the other exception are paragraph breaks: these are a pause for breath, and allow us to reset the pattern. i often start and end my paragraphs with single beat sentences, and it doesn't feel like they're running on because there's that lovely breath between them.
2 - short paragraphs
the rule we learn in school is that new paragraphs are for new ideas. convert this to prose, and we can consider "ideas" to include the character's thoughts, new narrative tangents, and physical movement around a scene.
one of my biggest struggles reading "bad" fanfic is when paragraphs are too lumped together. crowley will walk into the bookshop, see aziraphale across the way, wander over to a shelf, select a book, then pour himself a drink all in one big chunk. i can't parse that. there doesn't have to be a new line break for every new action, but grouping the relevant ones together and breaking in between broad motions (i.e. walking across a room, acknowledging a character) can help ease readers through the scene.
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paragraphs are a breath, not only for sentence flow, but for processing the action within a story. similarly, purposefully keeping multiple actions confined to a single paragraph can make them feel quicker, while breaking them up into multiple paragraphs will slow down the pacing (even if the amount of detail describing each action is the same). included some examples because i'm struggling to explain this one
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3 - mixing metaphors
this might sound less flow related, but i used to struggle with it a lot as a young writer, and paying more attention to it has definitely helped clean up my flow and writing overall.
i love a good analogy, but it can be easy to get carried away, and this can bog down the prose. my personal rule is that i can get silly with my metaphors (see: the mon chéri magnet), but i can only use one at a time. no talking about the magnet in aziraphale's chest and the angel and demon on his shoulder within the same scene.
if i'm getting silly and long winded with a metaphor, i also try to limit the length of it to one or two paragraphs. paragraph 1: set up the metaphor, establish the analogy. paragraph 2: come back to the reality of the scene, then mention the metaphor once more to link it all together. if i'm feeling cheeky, then i mention the metaphor again ONCE in passing, a couple of paragraphs or even chapters later
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the magnet was a fun one, because i kind of flipped how i would usually present a metaphor, with the long winded tangent coming last instead of being the set up. and even though i used the metaphor 3 times, it felt like 2 because the set up was really just a planted seed for what i'd be mentioning later in the theatre. referencing the "whispered curse in the dark" also helped tie the scenes together and keep the analogies neat and tidy in our heads
meanwhile i got a little more carried away with the space metaphor in postcards (i feel like there's probably a 4th and maybe even 5th mention during the bookshop scene), but each one was blink-and-you'll-miss-it brief that didn't slog down the prose.
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4 - avoiding repetitive pronouns
we're all going to struggle with this, and i don't have a secret hack for avoiding a wall of "he this, he that, he then," and i honestly try not to beat myself up over it too much. but there are two things i check to make sure it's not getting too repetitive:
1. looking within a paragraph
apparently everything revolves around paragraphs and the breath between them lmao. i don't have a strict rule like "use the character's name once per paragraph, then 'he' for the rest" or anything like that, but it's in that kind of vein. i simply pay attention to one paragraph at a time to watch for too much repetition, and if i notice it's been one or two whole blocks without switching from 'he' to a name, i'll chuck one in to break it up.
2. paragraph starters
this is so picky. and i don't know if it does ANYTHING, but it bugs me when i'm writing and i notice every paragraph starts the same way. maybe it has no effect on the flow at all. but i like to make sure my paragraphs aren't starting with the same "he" "he" "he", and that forces me to go back and switch around the pronouns in recent sentences, so the next paragraph can flow on more smoothly.
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5 - use interruptions appropriately
edit: sneaking this one in here as a final thought! i just want to mention the use of em-dashes, semicolons, footnotes, and parenthesis mid-sentence. it's common to favour one in particular, but each have spectacular uses and can add miles to the pacing and flow of your prose.
em-dash (—) interruptions, cutting off dialogue— pausing to make a point — like this — in the middle of a sentence.
semicolon (;) helps with making lists and continuing a compound sentence that doesn't really link with 'and' or 'but'; when you want to pause, but a new sentence would break the flow of things.
footnotes (¹) these should be optional additions to the text imo. you should be able to keep reading without looking at the footnotes and not lose an ounce of story. they're additive, not necessary.
parenthesis ( () ) a great way to interrupt yourself (less sharply) than with em-dashes, include longer pieces of information (like what you might put in a footnote, except more crucial to the narrative that you don't want people to miss!) and adding sass (lol) and tone to your prose.
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itsmoonpeaches · 3 months
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On Medusa from the PJO TV Show: A Survivor and complicated antagonist
I'm not the only one obsessed with the version of Medusa and I know it.
She's beautiful, she's eerily calm, she says, "I am a survivor," and you feel that. She is the symbol for women out there who don't want to be bullied anymore, and more recently Medusa's head has become a symbol of women fighting back with the #MeToo movement.
But I'm not writing this to talk about Medusa as the Gorgon from the Greek mythos. I'm here to talk about how she was written in the PJO TV Show. So let's get into it, shall we?
Note that some ideas from this meta are expanded on from this Variety article where the writers of the show and Rick and Rebecca Riordan, speak about the changes they made from the book to show adaptation.
A victim of an abuse of power
In the Variety article, Rick says, “There are many versions from ancient times of what happened in that temple with Medusa and Poseidon and Athena. Who’s to blame? Who’s the abuser? What’s the real story? It’s fiction, but it certainly is important to acknowledge that there is abuse involved here. Abuse of power.”
Like in all Greek myths, there is never exactly one "correct" version of a story. In many, Medusa and Poseidon basically have a one-night stand. In some, they have a mutual affair. In others, it's Poseidon who seduces Medusa into Athena's temple, and in others still, Medusa is a victim of assault.
What most versions of the myths do have in common is the fact that Medusa and Poseidon had some sort of relationship that produced at least two children (Pegasus and Chrysaor). Most versions (both Greek and Roman) also depict her as a tragic figure and a beautiful maiden.
Athena is involved in earlier myths as the goddess who put her head onto the shield that averts the gaze of enemies. In later myths, she is the one who curses Medusa to transform into what we know of her today after Athena discovers her relationship with Poseidon on her sacred ground. Poseidon, of course, gets let off scot-free.
Depending on how you read into the myths, there could be a variety of different things happening here. So, I like what the show did. They made it vague enough that this is still middle-grade level like the books, but they also expanded on what the books couldn't because they are originally written from 12-year-old Percy's POV.
They basically keep nearly all aspects of the story and original myth possible. But in the end, Medusa is indeed a victim of abuse.
Her real curse is not that she is hideous and turns people who look into her eyes into stone, but that she is made invisible by the curse and she is not heard. Not one person can look her in the eye and live to tell the tale. She can't show her beauty, so she chooses to live with what she has. Even with a slanted hat covering half her face and eyes, you can tell she's statuesque (see what I did there?) and a beauty.
She chooses elegant clothes, pretty jewelry, a neat hairstyle, a hat that accents what you can see of her features, and red lipstick that makes you think she could be desirable.
But it doesn't change the fact that Poseidon had his way with her, told her he loved her, and then she was the only one left with the punishment for what happened between them. Athena cursed her out of anger.
Medusa revered Athena who is a virgin goddess, and of course, Athena would be upset when one of her devout followers is suddenly not a virgin too. Yet, Medusa mentioned earlier in her narrative in episode 3 that Athena never answered her prayers at all and never gave an indication that she was listening. So out of all the times she pays attention, it's to curse her for something she doesn't like?
Athena paid attention to Medusa when it was convenient to her and Poseidon left her when Medusa was no longer useful to him after she was cursed.
This version of Medusa is left to the wolves to defend herself and live with herself, a victim of abuse of power from multiple ends and from gods she thought she could trust.
Medusa and Sally Jackson
What I found the most interesting in episode 3 was the fact that Medusa sprinkles the seeds of doubt into Percy's mind that maybe the loving relationship he thought his mother had with Poseidon was not what actually happened.
In the Variety article, Rebecca Riordan says, that Percy has to think ‘What has my father done? Has he changed? How do I see myself in relationship to that?' while Rick says that “Percy can only judge his father by the wreckage he has left behind."
The fact of the matter is, Percy is 12. The book series is for a middle-grade audience, and the show is too. So people out there thinking "This could've been darker!" need to calm down and take a back seat. The books always did a good job of introducing deeper, darker topics to children. The show should stick to the same strategy to keep what made the original story so good.
But, what the show does here is make you think. If Poseidon could abandon Medusa like that, use her like that, then maybe Sally Jackson was abandoned and used too.
Her show story does a good job of connecting two women who had a relationship with the same god, connecting women who thought they could trust someone but were left to fend for themselves.
Look at where Sally Jackson is now at this point in the story. Not only was she forced to marry Gabe Ugliano to use his stench to protect her son who attracts monsters, but he is an abusive man both to her and to her son at least verbally. In the books, it's not suggested until the very end of The Lightning Thief that Gabe has been hitting her outside of Percy's POV. I've seen people forget that and immediately write off that Gabe wasn't "abusive enough". C'mon people. Just because Sally fights back verbally doesn't mean he wasn't still abusive in his actions in the first two episodes. Even if they decide not to suggest that he was also physically abusive to Sally, doesn't make him sneakily using her phone, demanding to ask why she has to use his car, and demanding for her to make food for him any less abusive.
Sally chose that life because the most important person in the world to her is her son, and even though Gabe is a total jerk, she convinced herself that she could take what he gave her because what he did to her was better than having her son being hunted and maimed by a bunch of Greek monsters because of who he is. To top it all off, now Hades stole her away into the Underworld.
Medusa, in a similar way, was left to fend for herself. She chose what was best for her, and lived in her new form because she could not change what had happened. She wants to save Sally too because she sees Percy as a boy whose mom was abused the same way she was.
Medusa's brilliant role as an antagonist
Now we're here, the main reason I wanted to write this giant thing. I saw a weird take on Twitter saying that Medusa in the show should not have been beheaded like she was in the books because then that negates her whole story and what she stood for.
Well, in my opinion, that is a shallow take on what the show's Medusa is trying to portray.
Medusa is an antagonist. In the myths, she is an antagonist. In the books, she is an antagonist. In the show, she is an antagonist. She gets in the way of Percy's path for his quest, she suggests that he doesn't need Annabeth and Grover, and that only she can save his mom with him.
In both the books and the show, there are hundreds of statues of people she had turned. Sure, some of them could've been attacking her, but there were a lot of people there who were victims too. I'm sure that screaming lady didn't mean to do something to Medusa, and Grover's Uncle Ferdinand? He was the only statue who appeared calm and collected and there was nothing to suggest that he was out to get her. He was only on his journey to find Pan.
Medusa has killed people, and innocent people at that. For thousands of years. And not just people she had to, and not a small amount. Then, she suggests that Percy let her kill his two friends who are children.
To her, Annabeth and Grover are dead weight because of their loyalty to the gods. Annabeth wants to be noticed by her mother. Grover wants to make sure the world doesn't end. I mean, they all don't want the world to end but I digress.
Medusa hates the gods. She wants to save a woman who is like her. She will protect that woman's child. But she will do anything and destroy anyone to get that end result.
A victim is still a victim even if they are a villain or an antagonist. Her methods don't make her any less of a victim of abuse. But that doesn't mean they are right.
So yes, when Percy runs away from her to keep his friends alive and she takes off her hat to stalk them around the room to turn them into stone, she does indeed need to be beheaded. There is literally no other way to defeat her. They can't look at her or they die. So they have to make her stop moving.
Unfortunately, a person like her with deep and complicated motivations would never change their mind when they feel they are betrayed. So, Percy did what he could to protect himself and his friends from dying.
Still, it's a poetic death as it is in the books. He mails her head to the gods and mentions Athena specifically for her punishment of Medusa. He's impertinent.
Medusa didn't deserve to be punished. But it's been millennia and she made her choices. The abusers did not get the punishment they deserved, but maybe now they will. Medusa's head in her (temporary) death, will be a testament to her victory, but also a testament to her downfall.
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zzoguri · 6 months
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first to know you, first to love you ➵ eric sohn
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all you should care about is graduating with flying colors, so why are you starting to care about your seatmate?
requested by @mosviqu @sohnric for the song "valentine" by laufey
general genre/warnings ➵ strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life, afab reader (they/them pronouns), reader is a psychology student who has so much aspirations (and also believes love and studies cannot be balanced), eric is your seatmate-turned-friend-turned-lover, library dates reading dates study dates you name it!, eric is the most supportive guy out here, he annotates a book for you..., references to books and poetry, he buys you stuff, and he reads a book for you!!, slight hurt/comfort, kissing, also unedited IM SORRY!!!
word count ➵ 10k words
taglist ➵ @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel
a/n ➵ okay i am WITHIN the word limit!! but i know i went over the limit of scenarios (this may be the last time this happens... i don't know yet... help?) but i hope you enjoy this bar!! i am not too happy about my writing style for this one :') and i know reader may not be very "black cat" as i know you but i hope you'll still enjoy it to the fullest </3 also i made sure to not mention anything related to height LMFAO for the other readers: if you enjoyed this, always make sure to reblog (even if it’s on your tbr)!
want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! want to request? check out my guidelines! masterlist
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The years spent in university may be defined differently by everyone. Some may live out these years to enjoy the supposed independence they craved in high school. Others may spend those years exploring their interests and hobbies as they figure out what their future may have in store for them.
You, however, were a different case—head in scientific journals and coursework with a plan to graduate summa cum laude. As you study in a quota course, you’re determined to come out of university with flying colors. In a sea of students who are of similar (or even better) skill sets as you, the desire to be recognized as one of the top students is what you long for.
And for you, that means you were set on not entertaining ideas that may divide your attention from your studies—you were not going to allow yourself to fall in love in your years of university.
That is until a certain boy who goes by Eric Sohn came into your life.
CHAPTER ONE: LOVE LABORS LOST
The season of summer still lingers in the air; birds chipper as they sit on the tree branches; the sun glows yellow in the sea of blue; people point their fans at themselves as they are forced to bask in the heat.
But the new academic year has commenced, and you are determined to ace your classes once more. You’ve read the syllabi of all the classes you were going to take, even ones for your general subjects. Many people believe that general subjects are a waste of their time. You, however, thought differently, especially since one of the subjects you’re taking this semester is English Literature.
Coming from a STEM-oriented course, you may not seem like the type to enjoy literature. But the reality is that you love to learn about poets and writers—ones who seemed to craft worlds and dynamics that you could never translate into words. This misconception of those who enjoy science being unable to appreciate written bodies of art is one you face. But at least this course is a general subject, leaving you on equal footing with individuals from different courses.
You sit by the window as you wait for your professor to finish setting up his laptop. It’s syllabus week, so there wasn’t much to be worried about. Once he clears his throat, he shows the class a smile.
“Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Hwang Taejoon, and I am your professor for Introduction to English Literature.” He takes a moment to look down at his clipboard which you can only assume holds a list of his students’ names. “If this isn’t your class, you may take this opportunity to leave.” Some students get off their seats and make their way outside the classroom.
As soon as they left, your professor smiled before clapping his hands. “I’m excited to go through this semester with you. I know this is only an introductory course for you, so I will make sure to guide you all throughout. Now, will–”
The door of the classroom slams open. Your eyes snap to where the sound comes from, showing a boy whose black hair is all tousled up as he pants. He’s all dressed up in a varsity jacket over his hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You notice how his hand quickly reaches out to his head, fixing his hair. 
The boy then immediately bows down to the class (mostly to your professor) as he says, “Sorry about being late!” Your eyes drift back to Mr. Hwang whose face now holds a frown in contrast to the smile he once showed to you. “I promise, I won’t be late for any other session!”
Mr. Hwang grumbles before he takes another look back down to his clipboard. “Go take a seat.”
The boy stands up straight before flashing your professor an apologetic smile. He quickly makes his way to find a seat. Despite the vacant seats that are located throughout the class, his eyes quickly skimmed through them. That is until his eyes land on you. You notice how his eyes flicker to the empty seat beside you. And the next thing you know, you find him situated to your right.
You try to keep your eyes on your laptop, looking at the text on the syllabus. You didn’t want to stare at him—the boy who took the vacant seat beside you out of all the ones situated around the classroom.
The noise he creates as he brings out his laptop is not loud enough to interrupt the discussion but can drown out your professor’s words. But as soon as he settles down, you notice that he sets his hand down on the space between the two laptops. You cannot help but let your eyes flicker to it, and you notice his wrist is littered with beaded bracelets.
“Now, I’ll be discussing the outputs you are expected to deliver within the semester.” Your eyes snap up to where your professor is, standing right behind the table as he looks through his laptop.
You were ready to focus for today’s session until you felt someone tap your shoulder. As you look to your side, you are met with a boy who shows you a smile—one that is enough to almost have you smiling back, just almost.
“Hi, can I ask if there was anything I missed?” It’s a simple question, but you find yourself unable to formulate an answer. His voice is enough to send you into a lullaby; he could have his own podcast and you’d listen only to hear him speak nonstop, whether it would be of logical discussions or nonsensical chatter.
Without any idea of how to voice your thoughts, you only shake your head. He nods and shoots you a wink before looking back to the professor.
You should’ve been thrown off by his sudden action. If anything, you have every right to roll your eyes at him. But you do nothing of the sort, only looking back at your professor who demands your attention while your mind remains preoccupied with the boy beside you.
This could be due to all the years focused on your studies. You could care less about all the people who tried to earn your affection, from your classmates in your majors to even those part of the same club as you. But the boy emits an aura that has you only thinking of him. How can you ace this class if you’re turning putty at the first meeting? You need to get a better grip on yourself.
“Now, I want you to answer these,” Mr. Hwang says as he flashes a question on the screen: What role does literature play in your life? “And talk about it with your seatmates. Now would be a good time to get to know your classmates with the upcoming paired assessment around the corner.”
As you read out the words on the screen, you are not given enough time to think as the boy beside you clears his throat. You look back at him, met with the same smile he flashed at you then. Does he do this with every person he first meets?
“I think I should introduce myself. I’m Eric Sohn, majoring in Hotel Culinary Arts,” he says with his hand out toward you. You take a glance at his hand before letting yourself hold it, shaking it firmly.
“I’m Y/N, majoring in Psychology.”
You notice the way his eyes widen as you mention your course. “Do you perhaps know someone named Kevin Moon?”
The mention of your friend’s name has you smiling. “Yeah, I do. We’ve worked together since we’re part of our home org. How do you know him?” Your hand drifts away from his, crossing your arms as you listen intently to what he has to say.
“Mutual friends,” he reveals as he lets one of his arms rest on the back of your chair. With one hand tucked under his chin, he rests his arm on the table. He takes a glance at the screen shown in the front to refresh his memory on the question. “Would you like to go first? Or do you want me to start?”
You nod your head, signaling for him to start. He takes a deep breath as he looks up to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. “Well, I’ve read a few books then and there, but I think it was only when I entered uni that I started really reading more books if that makes sense.”
As his eyes meet yours, you nod as a way to show you understand him. “Yeah, I hate to admit this at first meeting but I’m a very romantic person.” You cannot help but raise your eyebrows at his words, earning a chuckle from him.
“I swear, I am! That’s why I started reading because my sister got me hooked on some romance books, so I’d like to think that literature helps me imagine scenarios I would love to see play out.” You notice the way he starts to scratch the back of his neck. “It doesn’t have to be me as the protagonist, but I’d like it,” he shyly admits, making you smile unconsciously.
God, you were not the type to just smile at some random boy. So why did Eric seem to have this effect on you?
Your thoughts snap you back into reality; the smile is now replaced by your calm demeanor. “I guess I can start.” As you see him signal for you to continue, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your eyes drift to the screen.
“Well, I’ve been reading my whole life, actually,” you look back at Eric who seems to show genuine interest in what you have to say. Oddly enough, you feel as if you can tell him more than just the typical story you tell people.
“I know people don’t expect me to be this type because I major in Psychology, and I have this tendency to read a lot of scientific journals and textbooks for my classes but that’s because I enjoy learning about the human condition.” You let your eyes drift off to nowhere as you reveal a part of you to a stranger. Maybe it’s because he’s a stranger that makes it easier for you to admit details you wouldn’t normally admit to someone whom you’ve met under a different circumstance.
“But I’ve always had an affinity for reading. Books can be a form of escapism through fictional stories, but they can also be a way to encapsulate memories of someone,” you continue with a small sigh. “I have been quite behind with my reading schedule though, so I’m hoping this class may propel me back to getting back to reading.”
He hums as he nods before saying, “No, I get it. I like that answer.” You look back at the boy who only smiles at you. “It’s nice to know that you still want to go back to reading despite how much your other classes demand it. I know many people who’ve lost that love and don’t see themselves going back to it, you know?” You nod at his words.
You were no stranger to the love-hate relationship when it comes to reading. If anything, that is how you’d describe your relationship when it comes to the hobby. But you were hoping that the upcoming years would treat you right and that your love for said hobby may not dissipate. 
“Yeah, I would hate to lose that form of escapism from my studies.”
He nods with a small chuckle following. “I get it, I would hate to lose it, too.”
With no idea how to respond, you expect silence to follow. But Eric quickly fills it as he asks you a question. “Do you know anyone in this class?” As you shake your head, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Okay, same.”
You cannot help but giggle. “I mean, if I knew someone, then I would be sitting with them,” you point out.
You want to ask him why he chose to take a seat beside you, but he beats you to it by asking you another question. “Do you have a class before this?”
“Uh, no,” you say as you quickly take a glance at your laptop, moving the windows away to show your schedule. Since the semester just started, you didn’t memorize your schedule. “It’s my first class of the day, but my next class is around 3.” You look back at the boy who cannot hide the way he reels at your schedule.
“You have such a long break. But me too,” he says as he pulls out his phone. As he shows you his schedule, you notice how big of a gap he has for today, where his next class is happening around 6 p.m. “But at least the other days are back-to-back. I just didn’t get lucky with my Mondays and Thursdays. I tried to change it but all the professors denied my request.”
You cannot help but sigh at the sight of his schedule as you remember yours. “Same. Well, I guess we’re stuck with our shitty schedules.”
Then, he asks, “Do you want to exchange schedules and numbers, perhaps?” Your eyebrows shoot up at his question. “I mean, I just don’t know anyone here, so I’d love to at least have a familiar face I can go to, especially for this class.”
You know you’re about to enter dangerous territories. With the numerous books you’ve read, you were sure this is what books typically started their stories with—a meeting between the two protagonists whose relationship will only have room to blossom.
And you should have kept him at arm's length. You didn’t want to risk getting friendly with someone like Eric because even at the first meeting, you couldn’t help but feel yourself drawn to him. But he’s nothing but kind and there should be no problem with allotting him space to take up in your life. All you need to do is stick to your plan—no idea of pursuing romance shall be entertained until you graduate. You can only hope that your interest in him is just a happy crush, one that will never flourish further. 
So you find yourself nodding to his request to which he grins. But before he can say anything, the light comes through the window. He squints as it hits his face, raising his hand to shield his eyes.
“Here, you can put your number and social media then I’ll send you my schedule.” The boyish grin on his face alongside the sunlight that makes him glow is a sight the universe has gifted to you.
You’ve read all about protagonists being bewitched by the presence of another, but works of literature have not prepared you to experience the same. For once, you wish you could find the right words to describe the sight but all you can think of is what a pleasure it is to be seeing this at the start of your day—you can only hope that your happy crush remains that way.
CHAPTER TWO: LITTLE WOMEN
The later hours of the day dawned upon you. The fluorescent overhead lights are dim as only the lamps situated at every table shine bright; you enjoy them for they never make the library bleak. The wooden interior found in every corner of this library reminds you of your own back in your childhood home. But the main act of the show is the books; the wide selection they offer has you always here at every possible hour, whether it may be to study or to possibly read for leisure.
You usually find yourself alone on most occasions spent here. If you found yourself working on a group project, you would usually opt to have such meetings at the study hall situated a few buildings away. It made sense to have those in a place where you could freely talk versus a library where it would be limited to occasional chatter or whispers. Today, however, is an exception, for you now sit across from your partner for your first paired work for Mr. Hwang’s class.
“I don’t usually spend my time here, but it’s nice,” Eric voices out as he looks around, taking in the sight of his surroundings. There were barely any students in the library around these hours. Usually, it would be you and some familiar faces you recognized because of the numerous instances you stayed here.
You’re not sure why you didn’t push for the study hall, but Eric’s explanation for choosing this place made sense. If you were going to study literature, why not do it in a place that is filled to the brim with it? It’s convenient if you need to quickly pull out a book because you’re already there. But the reality is that you liked this space as your own—somewhat like a part of the university that you believe to reflect the intimate parts of you.
You hum while you look down at your iPad where your notes are all scribbled down. “I’m always here. I spend most of my time studying or reading here.” You look up to Eric whose gaze is trained on you. Oddly enough, it feels like his eyes sparkle despite how dim the environment may be.
With that, you break eye contact with him as you look over a few tables away where you notice students who you knew only by their faces. “Yeah, like I know some of the people there just because we always seem to stay in the library until the closing hours.”
He hums before asking, “Do you know their names?” You shake your head before looking back at him.
“I only know the names of the librarians and staff. I’ve never been bothered to know the names of the other students, but we still say hi whenever we pass by each other.”
He can only nod at your words. “Sorry about interrupting the discussion, we can go back to it.”
“It’s fine.” You cannot help but smile as you shake your head. “It was a break we needed to take.”
He shoots you that boyish grin—one you’ve grown fond of after seeing him every week for class—before he continues, “So, we were talking about the confession scene of Laurie.”
“Ah, that one,” you cut him off as you lean back in your chair.
He chuckles for a moment. “So, what are your thoughts on the scene?”
You let out a sigh before saying, “Well, I am 100% on Jo’s side. I mean, she has every right to decline a man’s confession, especially if she has all these aspirations she wants to achieve.” You bite on the inside of your cheek as you recall the passages in your head. “And the audacity for Laurie to be, I guess, “jealous” of Professor Bhaer is unreasonable. I mean, it’s clear she doesn’t have room for anything romantic in her life, and I think that should be respected.”
“But,” Eric quickly scrolls through his notes found on his laptop. “Don’t we learn later on that Jo ends up longing for love in the end? Doesn’t she end up wanting both—a chance to pursue her dreams while also longing to be in love?”
You cannot help but chuckle at his counterargument. “Yes, but I think that this book was written poorly. I mean, we learned in the earlier chapters that Jo did not want to marry, and didn’t we also learn that Alcott only wrote Jo and Bhaer marrying each other because her publishers forced her?”
Eric hums for a moment. “I mean, we do learn that. But I think another way to look at it is that Jo was not ready to let someone take up such an important space at that period of her life. And I think it’s perfectly fine for her to realize later on that what she thought then is not what she wants after all.” With pursed lips, he lets his gaze flicker away from the laptop and back to you. “I know we put relevance to the context of the author, but I think it’s fine to derive our own interpretations of the text despite what the author intended, you know? That’s at least what I learned in my Art Appreciation class.”
Your partner for this assignment brought up valid points. It’s not like he was telling you to agree entirely with his interpretation of the later sequence of Little Women. Instead, he was engaging in discourse with you, sharing what he thought of the scene to provide a different perspective.
“I just,” you bite the inside of your cheek. “I just think Jo’s character was so revolutionary in the field of classics. I’ve read so much about women being viewed as individuals who are only meant to marry, but authors never put importance into their aspirations. I think that’s why I loved Jo’s character.” When you notice that Eric keeps his gaze on you without any sign that he’ll interrupt, you decide to continue. “She clearly had her priorities and wasn’t willing to let the idea of romance get in the way.”
Eric’s expression slowly starts to shift into confusion. Despite your words speaking on Jo’s character, it was starting to make sense to both of you that these sentiments came from a personal standpoint.
“Is this you speaking from experience?”
For a moment, you think of lying to the boy who sits across from you. You didn’t want to hear whatever comments he would make of your own choice to keep your love life as lackluster as possible. Yet, his eyes speak thousands of words—all revolving around curiosity. And you realize that maybe Eric won’t judge you. After all, when has he ever shown you that he would criticize you?
You sigh as you let your eyes look down at your notes. “I’m not looking for a relationship, or love, in general. I don’t think I have the time to even sustain one, and I care too much about my studies to even consider it.” You look back at Eric whose doe eyes still seem to shine.
He nods, letting silence take over. Your answer hangs in the air, almost as if you two needed it to marinate further. That is until Eric decides to break the silence.
“Do you ever get jealous of what you read?” You cannot help but tilt your head at his question. He shakes his head, trying to gather the right words to say. “I mean, you’ve read so many books, and I’m sure many of them have revolved around the theme of love and romance, especially the classics. Do you not want to experience that for yourself?”
Eric’s question seemed to be rooted in genuine curiosity. And you cannot help but ponder over his words.
It’s true that you would find yourself longing to experience the wonders of love that writers seem to talk about. It would be untrue if you said you didn’t give the idea a second thought—what would it be like to allow yourself to enjoy romance all while you study for your degree? But then you remember that there wasn’t anyone, really, to have you consider such. It was only an idea you would think about but never proceed with—there was no one to take up that space in your life to begin with.
So you sigh, shaking your head as you look back down at your notes, and say, “It’s not like anyone has given me a reason to reconsider.” You leave it at that, deciding not to indulge in the topic any further. And Eric only hums, looking back at his notes.
You take this opportunity to review your notes, recollecting every detail that is worth discussing with Eric for the upcoming presentation. Unbeknownst to you, however, your partner has his mind preoccupied with another matter—what can he do to become the reason you consider?
CHAPTER THREE: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
The moon may be shining brightly tonight, but you’ll never know. All huddled up in the library, the lamp on your table shines over your laptop and sprawled-out notes. You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this library. All you know is that you still have papers to accomplish and exams to study for.
But at least you were going through this in the comfort of your favorite spot in the university for they seemed to keep the library open all day during midterm season. And at least you had someone there to keep you company during this mess.
“This paper is impossible,” Eric complains as he rubs his eyes from exhaustion. You’re sure it’s past midnight. “What did you write your paper on?”
You cannot help but yawn. “Uh, I wrote it on Still I Rise just because it answers the prompt pretty well.” With droopy eyes, you look at your friend who now leans his head on his arm that is propped up on the table.
“Man, that’s good.” You cannot help but chuckle at his reaction. “I’m hesitant about using a poem just because I’m scared I won’t be able to share my thoughts well. Like, I know I talked about how we interpret the text as something that matters, but sometimes I cannot make sense of what these poets are saying.” His tired expression shows how long he’s been pondering on what to write.
With the paper due a few days from now, you were sure Eric was pressured to think of anything to write about. So you decide to lean back in your chair, brainstorming for anything to help him. Yet, you only draw a blank, clearly exhausted from all the studying and writing you’ve been doing.
His cackle comes out of the blue. Your eyes snap to his face, seeing that his crinkled eyes are set on you. You don’t miss how the students around your area shush him. Eric is suddenly aware of how loud he is as he cannot help but sink into his chair out of embarrassment.
“Sorry, the expression you had on your face made me laugh,” he shyly admits.
You frown at him before saying, “Fine, you’re on your own now.” Your eyes dart back to your laptop.
“Okay, wait!” He quietly exclaims as he grabs onto your forearm. Your eyes drift to his hand that rests on your arm, slowly drifting away from exhaustion. Before you can comment, he retracts his hand. “I would love your help.”
As your eyes settle on him, you notice the pout that rests on his lips. His doe eyes still manage to sparkle in the dimly lit room. The sight warms your heart—you almost let your calm demeanor falter.
“I wish I could help but for once, I can’t think of anything.” As you say those words, the cold air hits your skin. You cross your arms as a shiver runs down your spine.
Somehow, Eric is quick to catch on to your behavior. You watch how he pulls off his hoodie, hair ruffled from the action. And before you know it, he hands it to you.
“Here,” he says as he drops it right beside your laptop, covering your notes. Although you shake your head, he can only roll his eyes. “You clearly need it more than I do.”
With no sign that he’ll back down, you cannot help but sigh. You grab onto the piece of clothing and slip it on you, getting a whiff of a fruity and spicy scent that clings onto it. With how big the hoodie is, it almost acts like a blanket. And when you look back at Eric, you notice the soft expression that takes over his face—a smile that is enough to warm your heart.
“I think you should take a nap.” His suggestion has you shaking your head. “You’re clearly tired.”
You roll your eyes before going back to your laptop. “I can’t or else I’ll be behind on my tasks.”
“Okay, but if you only take an hour to nap, I’m sure you’ll feel well-rested enough to work better.”
Your friend made a valid point. At the rate you were going, you were barely absorbing anything. But you didn’t want to slack off nor did you want to fall behind on your studies.
And as if he notices your worries, he says, “I’ll make sure to wake you up an hour from now.”
You cannot hold back the smile that appears on your face. Somehow, Eric knew all the right words to say in the short span of time he has gotten to know you. And before you know it, your arms settle on the table as you find your chin settling on them. Whether it would be from pure exhaustion or Eric’s persuasion, you found yourself settling in a position good enough to allow yourself to nap.
The victory smile that takes over Eric’s features is one you wish you could smack off his face for you know it’s because you ended up listening to him, but it’s also one you want to store in your memories. His grin is enough to have you smiling back, though you bury the bottom half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, getting another whiff of his perfume.
He then goes back to his laptop, scrolling away at what you can assume to be the instructions for the essay required by Mr. Hwang. As you watch him ponder, you cannot help but take in his features; from his strong jaw all the way to his eyes that manage to easily shift between a strong glare to a soft gaze. He is someone sculpted by the deities—you weren’t sure why the universe chose you to be graced by his presence.
In your time knowing him, you knew that he presented himself as a goofball to many. He became the life of the party, per se, for he managed to create a comfortable atmosphere for everyone.
And yet, you knew that it’s only a mask he chooses to wear for the sake of others. In these moments, you learn that he is more than just a childish guy. Past all the layers, he is profound—you first learned that when he shared his interpretation of Jo’s character. You hope that he can find more moments where he’ll expose that side to you.
You move your chin to rest on your arms. “Can I ask what’s your favorite book?” Your sudden question has his eyes snapping at you. “I just realized that we’ve known each other for half a semester because of an English Literature class, but I never bothered to ask about your favorite book.”
He cannot help but chuckle before saying, “It’s The Notebook.” His answer has your face contorting into disappointment. “Hey, what’s wrong with that?” The way he gets defensive has you erupting into a giggle.
“It’s just okay for me. I didn’t enjoy it that much when I read it.”
He furrows his eyebrows not due to disapproval but genuine curiosity. “Okay, so what’s your favorite book then?”
“Pride and Prejudice.” The answer leaves your mouth quickly, almost like it’s second nature to answer the question with that title.
He hums before admitting, “I’ve never read it.”
“Yeah, it shows.” The remark leaves your mouth without letting a second thought come. You notice the way Eric’s expression shifts into a scornful one, and you cannot help but giggle. “I just think that you might reconsider what your favorite book is after reading Pride and Prejudice, you know?” He only nods at your words.
You let out a sigh. “I actually want to reread that book after midterms are done.” Your blinks are slow, exhaustion taking over your body.
Eric is quick to notice how sleepy you’re getting. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you up an hour from now.” All you do is hum before snuggling the lower half of your face into the sleeves of his hoodie, eyes now closed.
A few minutes pass, and you hear a chair screech softly. You can only assume that Eric had to use the washroom. But when you heard the chair move once more only a few minutes later, you were sure that he only had to get something.
As you hear him clear his throat for a moment, you keep your eyes closed. You try your best to not show you’re awake. And once more minutes have passed, you decide that the coast is clear.
Once you open one eye, you notice that Eric is leaning back in his chair with a book in his hand. He reads it intently, unaware of your gaze on him. You let your gaze drift to the cover of the book, and it takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. In his hands is a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the same one you found yourself revisiting just to read your favorite passages.
As you let your eyes close, a smile shows on your lips. Thankfully, it is hidden by the sleeves your face is snuggled into. With the sight replaying in your head accompanied by his perfume, your heart warms at the thought of him. You can only hope that he’ll love that book as much as you do—you can only hope that this infatuation will pass.
CHAPTER FOUR: EMMA
The season of fall has come; the sky is a patchwork of hues of orange; the leaves have turned to shades of brown; the wind has gotten cooler. Long gone was the heat that summer brought—you were dying to experience the joys of autumn.
Thankfully, you finished your last class for the day. As students piled out of the classroom, you were taking your time tidying your things. For once, you didn’t have any tasks to accomplish within the day which meant tonight would be time for you to enjoy, all snuggled up in bed as you finally reread Pride and Prejudice.
You were satisfied with the grades you received from your midterm assessments. Somehow, your efforts spent studying reflected well in the feedback your professors provided. Now, you can reward yourself with reading your favorite book.
When you exit the classroom, you expect yourself to go straight back to your dorm. However, the sight of Eric Sohn standing outside with his back leaning on the wall is what disrupts your plans.
“Eric? How did you know I was here?” Your shocked expression has him chuckling.
“We exchanged schedules, remember?” He says as he stands up straight, walking closer to you. You two stood in the middle of the hallway with little to no students in sight. “I kind of got lost, if I’m going to be honest.”
As he admits that information, you cannot help but giggle. “I mean, this is where most of my major classes are. That’s why I’m surprised to see a Hotel Culinary Arts student like you here.” He shoots you that boyish grin which has you smiling back. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure? Do you perhaps need help with the upcoming assessment for Mr. Hwang’s class?” You attempt to joke as you remain unaware of the reason behind Eric’s visit.
But when he pulls out a book from behind his back, your smile shifts into a shocked expression. In his hands is a new copy of Pride and Prejudice, one different from the one that he was reading in the library that one night. As your eyes zero on the book he holds, you do not pay attention to whatever expression Eric may have.
“I finally got around to reading your favorite book, and I have to admit that you’re right. I think this might be my new favorite book,” he hands the book to you. Your hands trail over the cover, still shocked that he ended up finishing it. “And I wanted to finish it before you reread it.”
You were expecting him to only read a few chapters, but for him to find enough time to finish it before you could pick it up? You realized you were screwed.
Your hands find themselves flipping through the pages—and holy shit, there are notes and scribbles all over the pages. “I wanted to annotate it just so you can also read my reactions and interpretations as you reread it.” Your mouth parts open at his words, clearly in awe of the action.
The pages are littered with underlines and circles, highlighting passages and quotes that seem to resonate with Eric. On the margins, you notice notes that are simple one-liners and others that are long enough to fill up the pages’ spaces.
“I–I don’t,” you look up to the boy in front of you. With his smile still plastered on his face, you do everything in you to find the right words to say. Yet, it’s impossible—this is the first time someone has done this for you.
He chuckles at your lack of words and says, “I would love to stay and hear how much you enjoy this, but I unfortunately have a class to get to all the way in the Culinary Arts building.” He lets his hand rest on your shoulder, squeezing it as if it’s his way to snap you out of your trance.
But the thing is you are not in any way out of touch with reality. Not only did he give you an annotated copy of your favorite book but he waited until your last class in a building that is all the way on the opposite side of where he needs to be. And at this moment you knew you were doomed—that this budding infatuation is turning into something more.
“I’ll see you next week in class, okay?” He says with a smile. You can only nod, still unable to speak. “Or tomorrow, if you’d like.” And before you can question him, he quickly makes his way out of the building. You let your eyes watch his figure that continues to sprint away.
As soon as he’s gone, you look back down at the book in your hands. You flip through the pages as you still remain in shock at what he gifted you. That is until you notice a post-it note stuck on the last page. When you open it to the page, you expect it to be an index of what his annotations mean. Instead, it is a message directed towards you, and you cannot help but feel your heartstrings tug at his words.
would you be interested in going on a reading date with me?
❑ yes ❑ no </3
p.s. you can just text me your answer :) maybe we can plan something tomorrow (that is if you see it by the time i give this to you)
And you tell yourself that this is wrong—that you should not be considering his offer no matter how friendly it may be. But with how he’s been treating you, you almost hope that this isn’t just him being friendly. You want to be on the receiving end of his affection—of his love.
It seems stupid to go back on your word of refusing to entertain love. Your plans are focused on graduating summa cum laude without ever allocating space for someone to take up your time. But is it wrong that someone has you reconsidering what you originally thought? Is it a sin for you to want to experience the joys of love despite your past reluctance?
So for once, you fully understand Jo’s character—you want to achieve in your endeavors all while experiencing the joys of love. And there’s nothing wrong with having that mindset after all.
The season of autumn is your favorite; the sight of leaves falling is a sight you cannot help but enjoy watching. In the same way leaves fall from the tree to the ground, you have fallen for Eric Sohn.
CHAPTER FIVE: SONNET 18
“So, what’s your favorite scene from Pride and Prejudice?” You decide to ask Eric as you two pass through shelves filled to the brim with antique books.
He hums as he follows closely behind you. “I think it was the first time Lizzie and Mr. Darcy danced together.”
You glance at the boy behind you, humming along with his answer. “Yeah, I really like Austen’s use of the motif of dance.” You come to a halt as you stand in front of a shelf full of classics. “I mean, she uses dance to show attraction between Mr. Darcy and Lizzie without them even realizing it.” Once you turn your head to face Eric, you notice a smile on his lips.
“Yeah, they’re remarkable,” he mutters as his eyes remain on you.
Under his gaze, your knees start to get weak. You cannot help but gulp as you look back to the shelves with cheeks dusted red.
Today, you and Eric were in the middle of a date—not a reading one, but an actual date. At first, you were nervous about having lunch with him mainly because you weren’t sure what to talk about. But he found a way to lead the conversation, making sure to build an environment where you two could talk about anything and everything.
Eric decided to bring you to an antique bookstore near campus considering that you two share an affinity for reading—though you were more interested compared to him. The selection they have covers fictional classics all the way to nonfiction recipe books. It’s definitely smaller than what the library offers but bigger than another bookstore you tend to frequent.
As your eyes scan through the collection, your eyes catch onto a copy of Sense and Sensibility, another book by Jane Austen that you’ve been meaning to pick up. “Ah! I’ve been meaning to read this,” you exclaim as you pull it out. With your eyes still looking through the selection, you spot another book you’ve wanted to read for a while. “Oh, they also have Wuthering Heights!” As you grab onto the other book, you look down to admire the covers. 
While you’re entranced by all the antique books standing in front of you, Eric cannot help but chuckle at your reaction. You whip your head only to see that god-forbidden boyish grin on his face—the same one that got you hooked onto him at the first meeting. He leans his side on the bookshelf all while he stares at you.
With that, you frown as you tilt your head. “Why are you laughing?” The question that leaves your mouth is out of genuine curiosity.
“No reason,” he starts off. “You’re pretty, especially when you talk about books.”
Your eyebrows raise in shock, thrown off by the sudden compliment. Eric has never been the type to tell you such during your time knowing him but hearing him say it now has your knees weak. Suddenly, all resolve was gone and you had no idea how to respond. 
And before you know it, you say, “You’re pretty, too.”
The words come out quickly without a second thought, and only when they leave your mouth do you realize how weird you are for saying such. But you notice the way his smile gets bigger, and you cannot help but feel your cheeks warm up once more out of flusters and embarrassment.
“Are you done picking out the books you want?”
“Uh, yeah,” you start off as you glance at your books. “What are you going to get?”
He hums as he stands up straight, looking at the shelf in front of you two. “Do you have another book recommendation for me?” He looks back at you.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you hum, thinking of a book. “Maybe Jane Eyre? By Charlotte Brontë?” You’re ready to tell him the synopsis of the book, but he doesn’t spare you another second for he grabs the book.
“Okay,” he smiles as he raises the book up. “I’ll pay for your books while I’m at it.”
You immediately shake your head at his words. “Huh? No, you don’t need to.” You hold the books close to your chest. “You paid for lunch already.”
He rolls his eyes before extending his free hand out to you. “It’s fine. I want to buy these books for you.” Your eyes are wide as you slowly feel yourself moving the stack of books away from your chest. “So long as we get to have that reading date, I’m happy to buy them for you.”
You would deny his offer, but you hate to admit that the idea of having someone you like buy the books you’ve been wanting to read has your heart warming. Buying you books, reading your recommendations, and annotating a book just for you—they’re the easiest ways to your heart, and he figured them out.
With that, you find yourself handing the two books to him. He smiles as he glances at the three books in his hands. And before you know it, he quickly links his arm with you as he drags you to the cashier. You don’t know how you got lucky to know a guy like him. 
CHAPTER SIX: SO TIRED BLUES
Usually, the hours of the night are the ones you find most comfort in. It’s the illusion of being away from the hours that demanded you to interact with others. You love spending your time alone doing whatever, whether it may be your own hobbies or the coursework you need to accomplish. This time of day had you in a state of tranquility, at most, for you were comforted with the idea that nothing can disturb you.
But for once, you weren’t calm during these hours. As you stare at your shared document that barely had any input from your groupmates, you feel your sanity slipping away. This assessment is due two days from now—what can your groupmates offer during this time crunch?
You lean your head in your hands as your eyes rest on your keyboard. As you let out a groan, you cannot help but grip your hair out of frustration. 
“What’s wrong?”
As you look at your friend who sits beside you, you cannot help but pout. “Eric, I can’t do this.”
Despite these hours being reserved for your alone time, you chose to spend these with him. The date was a success—you two were practically inseparable at this point. But you two were still going on dates without any expectation, still exploring whatever you two truly felt towards each other.
To be fair, you were still hesitant about jumping into a relationship with him. You still weren’t sure how possible it was for you to handle your studies along with being in a relationship. And you hate to admit it but you’re terrified—what if the love you read about is nothing like what you’ll experience with Eric?
So for now, you’ll only allow yourself to enjoy what you have now. It is only when the universe forces you to confront these sentiments that you’ll figure out the answer.
He crosses his arm as he leans back in the booth you two sat on. “You want to tell me about it?” And for a moment, you consider not doing such. You didn’t want to waste both yours and Eric’s time complaining about shitty and unresponsive groupmates.
But he doesn’t give you a moment to indulge any further in those worries, for he says, “We have enough time for you to talk about it.” He shows you a smile, one that is enough to bring you comfort. “Let me become someone you can lean on.”
And with that, you find yourself spilling out your frustrations. “I’ve just been so stressed, you know? My group mates are so shit, I’m not sure how good of an output we’ll be able to submit on time,” you start off. “I’ve been reminding them nonstop to do their work, and they just keep ignoring me. And it doesn’t help that my professor doesn’t give a fuck.”
Eric cannot help but let out a hiss of annoyance at your situation. “That’s terrible.”
“I know, right? And this assessment is at least 30% of my grade. How am I going to get an A in this class if my groupmates refuse to help?” You cannot help but groan as you lean back.
As you stare up at the ceiling, you tongue the inside of your cheek as you ponder over the situation you’re in. And you’re not sure what takes over you when you share your next set of thoughts. “I just–I want to achieve so many things, but it’s so hard when you’re not supported.”
Despite your eyes staring up at the ceiling, you can feel Eric’s gaze on you as you reveal a part you’ve never shared with him. So you let out a sigh before saying, “I know I talk so much about wanting to ace all my subjects and graduate with flying colors, but some days it’s hard to keep up with that type of mentality.” You let your eyes close for a moment. “It’s hard to aspire for so many things when you don’t have someone to fall back on.”
Although you have the passion to achieve the different goals you set for yourself, it becomes impossible to keep that fire going on most days. Sure, you had friends from your course and extracurriculars, but they were never ones you could find yourself going to easily. In most instances, you would be by yourself as you were scared to insert yourself into people’s circles.
With that lack of a support system, it became difficult to attain your goal. Although you try your hardest to keep your mind set on the prize, you cannot deny that you find yourself slipping into burnout in most instances.
“I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of burnout, you know? And I know most people would say to take a break or to indulge in a hobby, but,” you look at the boy beside you whose face is full of concern. “I’m exhausted from reading.”
It’s something you didn’t like to admit out loud. Eric knew you as the person who would read at any hour if they could—the one who wishes they could consume books even while asleep. So it hurts to say that you were growing tired of the hobby—the one thing that provided you escapism.
You let out a bitter chuckle as your tired eyes drifted away from him, staring off into the distance. “It gets hard to read when all you do in a course is read. It requires so much energy, and most days I just don’t have that.” As you say those words, you let out a sigh. “And even when I forced myself to read, whether it would be for my own pleasure or a requirement for school, I could never digest the passages.”
Eric hums at your reveal. And when he reaches out for your hand, it feels as if all your worries are lifted off your shoulders. “Is there any way that I can help?”
You cannot help but chuckle as your eyes rest back on him. With his worried expression, you only show him a small smile. “No,” you shake your head. “But it’s fine. I’m glad that someone listened to me.”
It’s not like you were aiming to have your problems solved by him. If anything, you realize how much weight was lifted off of you after admitting these to a friend.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry I can’t do much to help you, especially with your group work.”
You can only hum as you take a deep breath. “Yeah. I just need to take over their parts and remove their names, I guess.” As you say that, Eric cannot help but nod along with a chuckle leaving his mouth.
You’re about to get back to the work you were dreading until he asks you something. “Hey, I don’t know how much this would help, but maybe I can read you some passages of where I am in The Awakening if you’d like.” Your eyes widen at his suggestion. “I’m sure you’re way ahead of me but this could be a refresher, you know? While you take a break, I can be your audiobook.”
And you cannot hold back the smile that shows on your lips. Somehow, Eric is always looking out for you, whether it be through keeping your love for literature going or making sure you are well-rested on most occasions.
With that, you find yourself leaning your head on his shoulder. As you let your eyes close, you mutter, “Yes, please.”
He chuckles at the way you seem to melt on his shoulder. And just like that, he starts to recite the words of Chopin.
As his voice fills your ears, you’re reminded of the first time you first met Eric. Something about his voice is enough to ease your worries—to bring you into a state of tranquility. And somehow, he became the late hours of the day for you—you’ve managed to find peace through his presence for all he did is support you. 
CHAPTER SEVEN: HOW DO I LOVE THEE? LET ME COUNT THE WAYS
It seems like the season of fall is about to end. It’s getting colder than usual and you cannot help but wear more layers than you typically would during autumn. Although winter is about to come, however, you were seated on a picnic blanket with your back leaning against a tree trunk. And on your lap is where Eric’s head lays as he continues to read Jane Eyre.
While you were trying to read your copy of Wuthering Heights, you couldn’t help but glance at Eric every once in a while. After going on multiple dates with him throughout the semester, you weren’t sure exactly where you two were in your relationship. And you know you should take the initiative to ask, but you didn’t want to say the wrong words.
“Eric,” you call out his name as your voice quivers. He looks away from his book to stare right back at you. As he hums in curiosity, you cannot help but bite the inside of your cheek. “I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why did you sit beside me?” You notice his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “During the first meeting, I mean. Why did you choose to sit beside me when there were other vacant spots?” As you say those words, you spot how his mouth parts open in realization. However, it shifts into a smug grin.
“Cause I thought you were cute.” His reply has your eyes widening in shock. You knew Eric tends to be straightforward, but you weren’t expecting that to be his answer. You were sure that your cheeks were warm at his reasoning.
He then sits up, now face-to-face with you. “Well, that’s what I thought at first. But I got to know you more through the times we studied together, you know?” With his eyes staring intently back at yours, you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.
“I mean, the first time I got to know you, you were talking about how you wouldn’t entertain the idea of romance, so I couldn’t help but become interested in you.” His hand reaches out for yours that rests on your lap. “And throughout our time together, I learned about all your hopes and dreams and your love for literature.”
You notice the way he takes a deep breath in as his eyes close momentarily. “I couldn’t help but like you,” he admits. As soon as he opens his eyes, he is met by yours that are wide as they stare back at him.
“I’m sure it wasn’t a secret with how we were going on dates, but I thought I should vocalize it now,” he starts off as he looks down at your interlocked hands. “I was starting to wish that these dates would give you enough of a reason to reconsider what you first thought—that maybe I could become a reason for you to reconsider after all.”
But as soon as he looks back at you, you feel your heartstrings tug as he draws circles on the back of your hand with his thumb. And the next thing he says is enough to warm your heart. “But I would never push you into a relationship with me. I know you care about your studies, and you worry too much about your grades. Sometimes, I wish I could tell you to take it easy.” He cannot help but giggle as he says those words, causing you to laugh along with him.
“But I hope you know that I’ll be here to support you, whether as a friend or as your boyfriend if you’ll have me.”
And you realize that you’ve been wrong all this time. You’ve fallen under this idea that the road to success means to get rid of all distractions—that love is nothing but a hindrance to the path you want to take. But it’s not that you can only have one or the other—you could choose to have both if you made the effort to do so.
In your time knowing Eric Sohn, you learned the joys of love even if you weren’t signing up for such joys came in the form of him. To you, he is what the poets describe as love embodied. From the first time you two worked together all the way to midterm season until your breakdown, you realize that he is the support you were seeking out all this time. And so you wonder to yourself how lucky you can be to receive something you weren’t seeking but still desperately craved.
So you let yourself lean forward, your face inching closer to his. His breath hitches at your action. As your eyes flicker down to his lips for a second, you cannot help but hear your heartbeat in your ears. Your eyes meet his, and you notice the way he holds his breath. So you cannot help but let yourself smile for a moment.
And before he knows it, your lips crash into his. Your hand reaches out to the side of his face while your arm wraps around the back of his neck, holding him close. His hand holds onto your waist, drawing shapes on it with his thumb.
As your noses bump against each other, Eric cannot help but giggle in the middle of the kiss. You two part away as you continue to look at each other. “So, will you let me be yours?” And his question is enough to pull on your heartstrings.
It’s the phrasing that gets to you—his choice of words to let him be yours versus you being his is what has you realizing just how much he likes you. It’s this whole idea that you didn’t have to surrender anything to him for he is willing to build around you.
But the reality is you would do the same for him—you’re willing to make space for him to take up in your life the same way he already has done for you.
And so you say, “You can be mine if you let me be yours.”
The boyish grin you first found yourself falling in love with appears on his face. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
You wish you could tell your past self that nothing goes according to plan. What you may have first thought is not what may push through in the end. While you were never signing up to find love in your years in university, the universe decided to give you a reason to reconsider. And now you know that you can have both—that you can achieve your aspirations while still being in love. All it took was time, effort, support, and a boy named Eric Sohn to have you believe that.
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PRELIMINARY ROUND - DC COMICS
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PROPAGANDA
Cassandra Cain
1.) essentially her character premise is that shes more or less an unbeatable martial artist due to the way she was raised. in the comics, she's the second batgirl and had a very popular solo series from 2000-2006. However, essentially DC editorial really didn't like that a teenage chinese girl was a better hand-to-hand fighter than batman, and so mandated that she be turned into a extremely random (also remarkably racist, as she was more or less turned in a 'dragon lady' stereotype) villain, which completely derailed and destabilized her character enough for her to almost entirely disappear from comics for the next decade. this is a far more detailed write up if wanted: https://www.reddit.com/r/HobbyDrama/comments/pdue0e/american_comicsdc_comics_the_saga_of_cassandra/
2.) Following the events of One Year Later, Cass was turned into a homicidal villain who led her own league of assassins and wanted to force Tim Drake into murdering people. This was later retconned as her being drugged, brainwashed, and manipulated by deathstroke.
3.) Literally canonically a better fighter than Batman and probably most of the DC universe. Killed one person once and because of the way she grew up (never taught to speak, learned to communicate by reading body language, in order to make her the ultimate weapon), saw what he experienced as he died and then refused to ever kill again. Had an awesome initial run… And then got hit with "evil mind control" that made her go completely OOC, depopularizing her character so much that a lot of people don't even know she exists.
Barbara Gordon
1.) Was shot as angst value for Bruce and her dad, implied to be sexually assaulted in The Killing Joke with absolutely no respect for her long career as Batgirl. When Alan Moore asked if he could, the editor said "cripple the bitch." She became paralyzed from the waist down. THankfully, an actually good writer picked her up from there and then wrote one of the best stories ever written (Oracle Year One: Born from Hope). Was one of the most iconic disabled characters in comic book history, hell, as Oracle, she was definitely up there as one of the most iconic disabled characters ever as well as a fantastic character, period. There were a few moments where people kept trying to make things out of her disability and had her be shitty to other women for no reason but for the most part, she was awesome. During her time In 2011, Dan Didio and some other misogynistic/ableist comic book writers were responsible for "curing" her disability and forcing her back into Batgirl, despite her having shown absolutely no desire to do so, as part of the New 52. They also made it an editorial mandate that she couldn't have glasses, a cool secret base, and her time as Oracle couldn't be referenced. This was because those writers were nostalgic for the 60s Batman show where Babs was played by an actress they all had the hots for and couldn't accept she'd grown up and moved on. That was bad enough, but over time, she's been increasingly deaged and reduced even further to just Dick Grayson's on and off again girlfriend and a generic girlboss. Batgirl of Burnsides burn in hell.
2.) Famously fridged in 1988, which was so popular with misogynists it became canon. After almost 2 decades of being one of the only disabled characters, was rebooted to a younger, more fun version of herself whose only history is that she was fridged but not disabled by it.
3.) The Killing Joke is one of the biggest comic examples of a female character getting hurt to motivate male characters. Also tbe way different cannons will trade off who her romantic intrest is out of Batfamily is pretty disturbing ranging from Bruce Wayne in Batman the Animated series universe (ew) to Tim Drake in the Arkham games (ew). Not to mention DC now is not letting her grow out of being Batgirl taking away her legacy of other young female heroes taking up her mantle and her getting to mentor them instead forcing her into a Batgirl cycle of purgatory when she was always better as Oracle (Its a little more complicated in the new Batgirl book but its still not solving the issues in a way that feels meaningful enough to make up the damage).
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mtkay13 · 10 months
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-你身上有光 dyptich-
BACK AGAIN with more "Light on you" stuff! I really can't let go of this passage, haha. And I have A LOT MORE TO SAY so Let's go! (LONG post ahead)
This post will contain:
my own attachment and what I love in this scene
what lead me to depict them like this
a personal translation of the passage in the book
But to begin with, a little something about storytelling. In order to help writers, some "storytelling rules" have been set up and theorised about. Those rules are, of course, meant to be broken, and one does not need to follow them in order to write a good story; but during the storytelling course I followed, a few of those rules have stuck with me, especially this one:
The main character, the hero of the story, will be the one to shine or to "save the day" in the end.
Again--does this rule need to be respected for a good story? Not necessarily, but when struggling with how to manage an ending or a main character, it can be helpful.
Anyway. For me, this scene, the "there's light on you" scene, kind of is that scene--that one scene where ZZS is the main character, is the hero. TYK has an interesting story structure, where if you go by the book of typical wuxia stories, ZCL would be the main character; and if you look at whom goes through the biggest internal journey throughout the story, it would be WKX. ZZS's own story technically spans across both QY and TYK, which makes TYK a bit more about WKX's journey than ZZS'.
But that very scene is not only ZZS saving WKX, but also ZZS reaching the conclusion of his own journey. By the end of QY, ZZS didn't go and meet with Jiuxiao. He deliberately looked the other way, too scared to go check on him, too superstitious; and in the end, Jiuxiao died. TYK puts ZZS in a similar position: someone he loves is away, and the choice to go reach them is in his hands. He decided to respect WKX's wish to go and fight his own battle alone, yet he ultimately went against it, changed and moved on from who he was in QY, to go and fight by WKX's side.
It's no surprise that I'm very into ZZS, and this image of him bathed in light, beating the scorpion to his own game and "taking back" this main character spot... It makes me go insane. Not to mention all the incredible quotes of this passage. "His person"? "There's light on you"? Come on!! I'm also. Obsessed with how and what WKX saw. What he must have felt, as he was ready to die, when he saw his person, his husband, dashingly get rid of all the enemies, almost at the peak of his power, come and "collect his corpse"--save him? Just!! Imagine!!! Imagine being WKX and this is how it ends!!! You're the GVM, you've had the life you've had, you finally meet someone that you truly love, the guy's about to die, then maybe not, AND THEN HE COMES TO SAVE YOUR LIFE AGHHHH 😭😭😭 Sorry, I REALLY like this. REALLY.
-------
cough--So, about their expressions and what I wanted to represent. For ZZS, to me... it was a mix of closure, fondness, and satisfaction. I think that ZZS had a "good time", going back to who he was before: tailing the scorpions, going undercover, ambushing from the shadows--not to mention slowly retrieving his full power. I think that this ZZS feels quite good, especially now that he got the confirmation that WKX is still alive. Then, the feeling of having done "the right thing". He's... beyond regret, now. He was able to follow his heart, quite literally, and that also feels good. The fondness is of course because he's looking at WKX. What else is he supposed to feel?? They haven't met for 3 months! I think that he's worried, but they trust each other. He trusts that WKX will survive this, that he'll be strong, that he won't die on him. So yeah. I wanted this ZZS confident--in himself, in WKX, in the future. WKX is a bit dazed, there. Probably in pain, and a bit stunned as he wasn't expecting it. But he's also... a bit enthralled; by this light, by how impressive and efficient his husband is, and, of course, the fact that ZZS came for him. The person he loves, the person whose life matters more than everything else now that WKX has reached his goal, came for him, came to save him. This stupid guy came for him instead of going to the mountain to prepare on his own. Yet another blatant show of them being so alike, isn't it? I guess... it's just a lot of love, a bit of pride, the faintest hint of him being amused, even--and maybe relief, as well. He won't die, and ZZS is there, and he's strong, and again, like for ZZS, there's a future--which he never allowed himself to properly consider, I believe. -------- Finally, a personal retranslation of that scene. I did it not because I thought it really needed it but because the only existing TL of this part of the book doesn't allow for reposting and I figured I may as well try. So for anyone who doesn't remember the passage or hasn't read the book/reached this chapter, here it is!
The Scorpion raised his hand and was immediately handed a weapon. His smile vanished as he looked at Wen Kexing leaning against the tree, already quite injured. He said: “For someone like the Ghost Lord, I must act in person—it would be quite disrespectful to get someone else to do the job.” 
As he spoke, he raised his hook across his chest and approached slowly. He continued in a low voice: “I invite the Ghost Lord to walk ahead on the Yellow Spring road.” 
He then fell silent, raising the hook higher and higher. Wen Kexing opened his eyes, quietly looking at him, his pitch-black irises like two dark pools of murky water, calm as if he wasn’t the one about to die.
The Scorpion suddenly felt a violent gush of wind surging from the side, charged with killing intent—electrified by an aura of death, goosebumps rising on his skin, he shouted as he lifted his hook in the air and promptly sliced through—the assailant was wearing the black robes of the scorpions, but didn’t wear a mask, had a soft blade in hand—he swiftly avoided the hook; a sudden, sharp pain made the Scorpion cry out as the soft blade wrapped around his arm which, at once, was ripped from his body and fell to the ground. 
The several scorpions standing behind their leader immediately assumed a tactical formation—but then, a dashing figure, a metallic chime, and they all stood, dazzled; one swift move for it to be settled: one man standing, several men on the ground. Whether they were dead or alive, all of those who layed still were missing the arm holding their weapon. 
Wen Kexing recognised the man. He abruptly sighed, and said in a low voice: “Idiot, what are you doing here?”
Zhou Zishu threw him a side glance and sneered: “I came to collect your corpse, madman.” 
The effects of the Nails of seven apertures and three autumns were suppressed by the medicine Da Wu had given Zhou Zishu, and at that moment his gong fu had been restored to nine parts of its peak capacity. If the Scorpion already wasn’t on par should they have a fair fight, then he didn’t stand a chance when ambushed from the shadows. 
Zhou Zishu turned to the Scorpion, the pointed end of Baiyi slightly angled down, and he sharply asked: “You dare threaten my person?”
A bit stunned, Wen Kexing watched the back of the man standing in front of him, and slight shivers started coursing through his fingers resting on the ground. 
The Scorpion’s face was deathly pale, yet he still managed to smile and painfully say: “Ah… Brother Zhou, my apologies, I didn’t expect you to honour us with your presence.” 
He briefly gauged the two men, waving his remaining hand: “Great master, we won’t counter any further. We bid you farewell———retreat!”
The few scorpions that were still alive crawled and scrambled to their feet and hurriedly followed the Scorpion as he withdrew. Zhou Zishu didn’t try to follow and just turned around to face and look at Wen Kexing.
Wen Kexing’s eyes shone brightly, but he simply chuckled: “You should be more careful for…” 
Before he could finish, Zhou Zishu’s eyes focused, he swiftly twirled, the blade that was in his hand suddenly split through the air in a beautiful arch—a tinkling sound as it hit something, and soon enough a muffled groan rose from the woods behind them. Zhou Zishu shook his head and sighed: “Using the same move against the same person twice—are all these scorpions merely one trick ponies? And they dare claim to be on par with Siji manor?”
Wen Kexing watched him, slightly dazed. His mouth curved into a smile as he suddenly extended his hand in the air, trying to catch something.
Zhou Zishu frowned and asked: “What are you doing?”
Wen Kexing said softly: “There’s light… on your body. I’m catching it to see…” 
Thanks for reading!
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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year
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I know it's been done quite a bit but
Soft!dom Aemond please? Modern or canon era your choice ❤️ maybe some degradation???
is there really any limit to soft!dom Aemond tho? I hope you enjoy this nonnie xx apologies me writing smut is so shit, I wish you guys could just see what I see (that sounds weird but you get me) !!!
Serve Me.
PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x Servant!fem!Reader
WORDS: 3,477.
WARNINGS: soft!dom Aemond, degredation kink, p in v sexual intercourse, swearing, fingering, hint of power kink/dynamics.
A/N - I left this in the HOTD universe, but please feel free to request for a modern AU version / HC :) BIG BIG THANK YOU to my soulmate @sahvlren for helping me to jump start this, I was experiencing terrible writer's block and my main girl pulled through. I love you baby <3 sorry if there are mistakes, I'll edit tomorrow LMAO but enjoy this heinous writing for now x
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Aemond Targaryen, the notorious one-eyed Prince, was an enigma to many... Including yourself. You had only ever known him as your Lord or Grace, and you as his mere servant. Aemond scarcely spoke to you unless to give orders. Although from much close observation, you'd figured, he hardly spoke to anyone at all, unless to command or vex. His endearing silence, and impenetrable demeanour itself was quite intimidating, let alone the nobility and authority the young Prince possessed, did not help to ease your fears of the man.
Aemond often would use this to his advantage to seek out what he sought for, so you've heard.
You knew from your upbringing and low social standing, not to dare provoke such a man. Being trained the etiquette to serve and obey was all you'd known, and that would remain unchanged. Much to your oblivious nature, however, Aemond had been carefully watching you. He hadn't spotted you initially, amongst the servants that greeted him in the morrow, for it was difficult to decipher who from who, as you all moved about in haste and in identical, ragged uniforms. Yet the moment, you caught his eye, a yearning began to ignite in the pit of his stomach. With each passing day, of your close presence, this feeling began to stir into something more palpable. Whether it was the blatant vulnerability or the innocence in your eyes, [he had yet to determine] something about you had intrigued him to no end.
Not to mention, you were some sight for sore eyes...
In comparison, to most of his servants that he had been raised with, some far older than he and others not suited to his acquired tastes, you, you had captivated him. He had no idea where his mother had found you, and yet he never fathomed to question her decision. Aemond did also often prefer, if given the chance, to gather some background on servants, that had been newly entrusted to serve beneath him. He knew their day-to-day service would mean he'd be exposing himself to vulnerable situations, whether it be to help run a bath, attend to his wound care from training, or even so, if the Prince had fallen into illness [although rarely]... He refused to oblige in trusting others so lightly.
And yet, he made the exception with you. He wanted to directly hear your story from your own words, as he could envision your luscious mouth moving, forming the words as you spoke gently. In actuality, he'd only would’ve granted you the chance to speak so freely, for he knew you were just a helpless maid: he knew could easily overpower you, even if you foolishly attempted something... Aemond felt he could read you like a book, the evidence was blatantly obvious in your frightful, uneasy eyes. The way he gave you orders, he'd paid close attention to how often your eyes would dart and flutter to his voice, your body shuddering when nearby, unable to maintain even a minute of contact. It drove him wild, that he had such a profound affect on a woman. He could understand that perhaps it was an authorative play, and yet, he enjoyed it immensely. His curious mind often pondered over devious thoughts, endless possibilities of what other things he could compel you to do...
Attending to such time consuming, domestic duties, you'd often be accompanied with a few other maids or servants, although after some time, they began to disappear one by one, until only you were the only other being presenting yourself to Aemond in his chambers. It was only after you had questioned your fellow colleagues about there whereabouts after, that they'd openly disclosed, "the Prince has solely requested for you".
Gradually, you began to notice subtle changes in his routine. He would now often, or what you felt, was an attempt to delay your dismissal from his duties as much as possible. Spoling himself longer in your presence, if he had called you in initially for one thing, you'd end up having a thousand other tasks set to do, as he lurked on. During these moments, Aemond remained persistent in not talking, just observing you with a watchful eye, from a reasonable distance, as though not to pounce on his prey just yet...
Unlike his elder brother, Aemond refused to lower himself to such vile behaviours. There was no denying, if he wanted to, he could've easily forced himself onto you. Yet, was adamant to control his urges. Intending to take his sweet time with you, although that primal, almost animalistic part, was weaning less and less in patience. Whether he sat by the fire, immersed in some ancient text, or as he roamed by the windows and balcony of his quarters, he was always there, never ceaselessly leaving you alone. You could always sense his firm gaze subtly lingering over your body.
Now, he got bold...
As you tended to the adjusting the white, soft sheets on his king sized bed, as you did each morning, you’d heard the faint eerie creaking and sudden thud of the door shutting. Your attention snapped towards to see Aemond stood by the door, returning from his familial breakfast feast, watching you unfalteringly, before you refocused your attention to the task at hand.
He had never shut the door before... Always leaving it even just the slightest bit agape, it made it less daunting.
Trying desperately to avoid lurking towards his unnerving direction, you were oblivious to his faint footsteps creeping up behind, as the sheets rustled in your shaky grasp. You felt an instant, light graze against the tight, thick fabric of your waist, an arm snaking its way around, prompting you to straighten your posture up. Feeling his lean body against your frozen state, his firm grip felt incredibly tight around you, although bearable enough to breathe.
"Hmm, tell me who you are...Strange girl."
You remained silent, paralysed in both movement and speech, you felt your courage melt away, if there was even an ounce of it.
His hand that remained free, gently rubbing down the side of your clothed thigh, found its way, firmly clenched around your jaw. Guiding your face slowly towards his menacing gaze, his height over-towering you. Your teary eyes gradually wandered up to find the Prince looking hungrily down at you. You could feel him devouring you, just with his eye.
Qilōni issi ao? [Who are you?] He lowly growled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your tender, flushed cheek.
Pathetically whimpering out your name in a quiet stutter, caused the one-eyed Prince to grin. A wicked grin.
"Gevie hāedar [Beautiful girl]..."
You had no comprehension whatsoever of the meaning to his words, although you were wise enough to know the words he spat belonged to his Mother Tongue, remnants of Old Valyria.
Oddly enough, it sounded poetic to your foreign ear, how eloquently Aemond was able to pronounce the words, the way the words rolled off his tongue.
"You are going to listen to every word I say. If you disobey me, rest assured Y/N, you will be punished."
Again, you struggled to formulate the words nor found the pluck to speak. Simply nodding to his words, as he nudged your body to turn, now completely facing him.
Pathetic, the dreadful thought echoed in your mind... Aemond probably thought the same.
"Take off your rags, you filthy girl," His words spat like venom, and yet the devilish smirk on his face said other wise, as the young Prince found himself comfortably seated on his wooden chair by the fireplace.
Reluctantly your body obeyed, loosening the straps and ties of the run down dress you called uniform. Lost in your thoughts of what was to come next, you hadn't realised that you'd picked up speed, until Aemond uttered "slowly."
You paused for a mere few seconds, registering his words before realising that as the seconds zoned by, you'd given Aemond the faintest idea that you may have been refusing him.
As you hastily resumed, although this time taking extra caution in slowly removing each layer of fabric, you realised you that you did not consider to fight back.
You had heard of rumours, of many servants attempting to fight back against their higher class lieges, only to have either been dismissed, silenced or even some disappearing for good, especially those bestowed upon Aegon as servants. You heard no such accounts of this kind, relating to the Prince that you had served, and yet you so easily succumbed to this. Perhaps you were not as brave, as you had naively convinced yourself to be...
As you finished taking the last of your garments off, nervously standing bare naked in front of Aemond, your eyes reluctantly fell on him. You observed him watching you, relishing himself in the passing time, as he examined each crevice, detail and flaw etched to your body.
Say something, you desperately thought. What is it you wanted the Prince to say, you had not the faintest idea...
"Gevie [Beautiful]."
The foreign tongue yet again, cursed your ears, you remained clueless and at a loss to its meaning. Did he enjoy his view? Was he satisfied with how you were? Did he relish in stripping you bare of not only your rags, though of your dignity?
His stoic expression did nothing to relieve the tension, you could feel your breathing growing heavier, as your bare chest heaved deeply with each long breath.
Instinctively, your arms began to cross, folding over your front, you felt it did minimal help to maintain some last delusional thought of integrity that you'd had. Aemond immediately pounced off his seat, gracefully striding towards you in a few, short steps. There he stood, in all his clothed glory, as his rough, large hands reached over gripping your wrists as he guided your arms back down to your sides.
One hand released its grip over your wrist, reaching up as his palm lightly cupped your breast, his thumb gently stroking, flicking your sensitive nipple.
He was amused at how you winced under his touch, a blatant smirk on his face.
"Hmm-"
Slowly glancing up at Aemond, you could've sworn you saw the young Prince licking his lips lustfully, convinced that there was a slight possibility may-haps, he was satisfied with the sight before him.
"Lay on the bed."
"Yes, your Grace," You softly whipped back, in a timely manner and without much consciousness to your words.
As you were about to turn to kneel yourself into the bed, his grip on your wrist tightened once more, this time tugging you aggressively, as you felt your body pull to face him, in a swift reaction.
"No, 'your Grace'-" He mimicked, in his same, deep tone.
"Just...Āeksio [Master]."
Repeating his words mentally, you were smarter than to dare question Aemond again, not inclined to vex him in the slightest.
Y-Yes... Āeksio" You anxiously stutter. That familiar, devilish grin reappearing on his chiseled face, almost amused by your poor attempt of a pronunciation of his Mother Tongue. He should be insulted, not amused, you figured. Yet you obediently stammered onto the soft bed, sprawling yourself on the newly clean linen, your back towards the mattress, as your hands kept you propped up.
"Spread your legs."
Your breath got caught in your throat at his words, refusing to maintain eye contact, as Aemond unbuckled his coat and leggings. Your legs quivered with reluctance, and he had noticed your delay immediately.
"I said spread-"
Leaning himself forward on the thick mattress, his clenched fists keeping him balanced, his threatening gaze remained fixated on your, showing no signs of mercy or remorse for what he was capable of. He'd exhaled a deep sigh, almost signalling a refusal to jest with commands longer, your legs began to slowly part in distance, exposing your bare cunt to the Prince.
"Do not dare to test my patience ever again, disobedient girl."
You responded, whimpering with a nod, sensing hot tears pooling in corner of your eyes, desperately trying to hold them back. One escaped, streaming down your blushed cheek, as Aemond removed his shirt and leggings completely. Now the Prince, just as bare as you, except for the remaining leather eye patch, his body was as you had imagined it, even more perfect in reality.
Chiseled and lean, his muscles prominent from the long days of training had paid off. The appealing sight before you, acted as a distraction to the situation at hand.
"Hmm-" Aemond lowly growled, as he steadily kneeled over the bed now on all fours, his attention spanning from your face to your cunt.
"I own this cunt, just like I own you..Ñuhon [Mine]."
Without a minute to spare, he crawled himself closer, his head hovering above your lower abdomen, as one arm wrapped beneath your tender thigh, tensing under his grip, he pulled your thigh further apart. His other free hand slowly reached towards your entrance, the cold tips of his long fingers, gently tracing over your moist folds. A tingle coursed through between your thigh, his thumb swiping over the skin.
"So you are wet for me? And I haven't even started... My pathetic, innocent girl."
"M-Master- Àeksio-" You squeaked urgently, remembering his command.
"Please, I-I am just here to serve you, b-bid me leave and I shall not tell a living soul."
Immediately, Aemond shot his eyes up at you, and he was far from impressed. Fury streaked across his face, he looked even more forbidding than initially, if it was even possible, his eye slightly squinting as though in shock that you'd even attempt to bargain for freedom.
He exchanged no words, only hastily shoving two, long fingers into your cunt, without even a merciful warning. You could feel his fingers, slowly swirling between your folds, circulating in sensual slow movements, before he began to found some pace, thrusting them in and out.
"A-Aemond-"
"Insolent girl, you were doing so well taking orders. And now that you've given in to me, you've lost all your senses.”
His fingers began to pace faster, although now he added an extra digit, widening your entrance even more, as your wetness began to pool, lubricating your cunt and inner thighs.
As you pleaded for Aemond to stop, refocusing your attention from the stony ceiling, to his handsome face, that wicked smile was once again, struck beaming up at you. This time he even let out a sinister chuckle, amused at how effortlessly your body caved under his touch.
Instantly pulling all three fingers out, his hand had been coated in a viscous clear-white film, eyeing his glazed fingers hungrily, Aemond looked to you menacingly, before lapping your sweetness with his tongue.
"Hmm-" He moaned, closing his eye for a split second as he took the time to savour the taste.
"Just as I thought... Delectable."
Wiping away the last remnants of your taste from his lips, Aemond relished in the moment. His eye fixated on you, he began to crawl himself up closer, your faces now only inches apart, as his fingers reached for your cheek, grazing your soft skin before combing back the mottled strands of your hair.
"Beautiful."
His word nor did his tone feel venomous, you earnestly stared at Aemond, as your eyes scanned over his features in greater depth. You'd never been this close to the Prince, and you'd been working with him for months now. His healed scar now peaked your intrigue, instinctively, your hand reached over cautiously, as though not to startle him, although more as a precaution for you.
Your fingers gently traced over the prominent, scarred line down beneath the patch, careful not to provoke any potential pain, as Aemond had initially winced beneath your touch, only to gradually lean into you.
"Are you frightened by it?" Aemond uttered, almost in a sorrowful tone.
"No, Āeksio."
"Are you disgusted by it?" He once more woefully questioned, his eye yearningly lingered over your lips, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip.
"No," You softly whispered, still reluctant out of fright to speak.
"Where have you been, you."
Hastily he removed his eye patch, flinging the material to the floor, revealing a mesmerising blue, sapphire gem stone carved perfectly, in place of his lost eye. You were not startled at all, although enthralled. And he had acknowledged your response pleasantly. Without a second to spare, Aemond found himself plummeting his lips down against yours, in a passionate kiss. His heavier mass weighing down ontop of you, caused you to lay back completely on the bed for support. His tongue slipping into your mouth, exploring and swirling inside, as his semi-hard cock weighed atop of your lower abdomen just above your cunt.
His breathing became slower and heavier, unable to take breaths in between, similarly your chest began to heave against his, your breasts caressing, pushing in towards his lean chest, as your back gracefully arched.
Your legs instinctively began to pull apart once more, as he adjusted himself below, feeling his throbbing cock, pulsating against your sensitive spot. His lips finally left yours, as he left a wet trail against your soft skin, trialling down the crook of your neck, to your breasts. His hands gripped to your wrists, as he pulled your arms overhead, pinning you down,one hand freed itself, reaching down below as he gripped at his hard cock, causing him to moan, he positioned himself at your entrance, adjusting himself to plunge in, before taking one final glance at you.
That was his warning.
His cock felt long and girthy, as he shoved himself in, your walls stretching to fit his pleasurable mass and length. It hurt, for this was the first time you had laid with a man, unimaginably, it also happened to be the Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. And yet, it felt so wildly right. An electrifying jolt coursed through your body, although it was tolerable and became enjoyable the more time you spent immersed to this new sensation.
"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly moan, a satisfied look appearing on Aemond's face, as he watched you intently from above, your reaction to his movements: causing you to arch once more, bucking your hips upwards as your face turned up towards the ceiling in retaliation.
"So needy for me, needy for your Prince. You'd be nothing without me, no one."
"Y-Yes-" You agreed bashfully, although at this point you'd agree to anything Aemond proclaimed, so long as he kept this steady and slow pace up.
"Such a needy whore, Y/N. My needy whore, who takes such good care of her Prince."
"Y-Yes, I forever w-will."
His thrusts became faster and he kept steady at it, his endurance was unfaltering [you'd come to be most thankful to all the years of training he endured]. His groans and growls became louder and more frequent, as your walls clenched tighter, feeling more of your warm cum coating his cock inside, oozing from your entrance coating your thighs and his balls.
"Forever mine. You belong to no one else-" He grunted, struggling speak in coherent sentences as he tried to manage his breath.
"Understood?"
No response. This only infuriated him once more, causing his grip on your wrist and one on your waist, keeping you planted, to tighten, as he squeezed firmly for your attention.
"Yes, Āeksio! Yes!" You delightfully cried out, reaching your climax.
A few long minutes went by, and Aemond felt himself releasing his cum inside of you, a breath of relief escaping his mouth, grunting in pleasure, as his grip still remained firm on you.
"Fuck, now you are definitely mine."
You knew the potential consequences, although in the moment you could not fathom nor consider what may occur. You were concentrating on your breathing, just as Aemond was, relinquishing you from his claim, pulling his cock out carefully, he hastily stood himself up out of bed, reaching for some sheet, to clean himself.
"If the Gods be good, you'll carry my child. Bastard or not, you are mine, regardless."
Your breathing now steady, you felt your sweaty body cooling in the air, as the rush had settled, nodding to Aemond's words, although it still felt more like commands.
"Wh-Whhat will the others think of me? What excuse shall I say? Your Mother, the Queen, what will she say if-" You worryingly stutter, as your consciousness begins to return, seating yourself up, as you shakily wrap the dampened sheet around your naked body, still petrified of Aemond's judgement.
"These matters must not concern you anymore, Y/N. I will see to take care of it myself. Your only duty remains the same, to serve me faithfully."
You simply nod against Aemond's words, as he wipes himself with a wet cloth at the basin set by his table. His leggings now on, he remained but shirtless, walking back over towards you, as he comfortably seated himself down beside you. He brings forth a wet cloth to your forehead, wiping away the sweat beads. Lustfully, he gazes over you, a genuine, heartfelt smile on his face, before he succumbed to planting a small, soft kiss on your clean forehead, before refocusing his attention on you.
"Understand this, you belong to no one, Y/N. You will continue to serve me, as I see fit. In return, I will take care of you... Alas, as I see fit."
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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year
Note
-vine boom
I probably sent a lot of these now im so sorry lmfao 😅
You mentioned in one of the asks that some countries are like a prototype/based of our existing countries, like Germany=Mondstadt, Liyue=China, Inzauma=Japan....
So even though the language is more or less identical for you to make heads and tails in a conversation or writing in a book, the reverse side does not.
Creator!Reader who knows a couple of languages (plus points if they're atleast fluent or have a understanding of it despite not being able to speak said language) and being born from a country that doesnt have the same language as the countries Teyvat based off. Basically Spanish, Italian, Filipino, Scandinavian languages that also have their own way of writing.
Imagine feeling homesick and the only thing that keeps you occupied is the notebook and pen you have while the others converse in a meeting or in a hangout. You started writing in your tongue and re-reading it to relive memories.
Zhongli, AlHaitham, Albedo, Jean, maybe the Berry bros too (Diluc & Kaeya) get curious only to have a double-take and immediately thinks that maybe there is a forgotten land in Teyvat that has this language, I mean Morax stayed faithful to Liyue and Barbatos blessed his country with abundance of supplies and freedom. Teyvat gods and archons played favourites, so why wouldn't you as well? (Bonus: Khaenriah flashbacks) (also I know these arent enough characters but how should I know? I only have a handful of them and I ran out of Primos😭
The people from Akademiya though? I mean they went hard on theorizing and picking apart the language of their creator. Have you seen Matpat's descent to insanity the more FNAF continues to push out LoRe? Thats basically them because Teyvat doesn't have a country based on Creator's birth country. They're grasping nothing but air and dead ends and the only lead they have is you, but couldnt ask because you look so down and they cant bear to see Creator sad....
(NEW BANNER TOMORROW AND I DONT HAVE ENOGH PRIMOGEMS HALP---)
Rip Vine boom no primos 🙏 hope u got some more by this time bc i was so late to reply lol - DUDE IM SO READY FOR THE GORG KAVEH <333
BERRY BROS!! Thats it, thats the only way im gonna refer to them now.
Not super long to add onto ur bc UR SO SMART AND SUCH A GOOD WRITER VINEBOOM U SHOULD ALSO WRITE STUFF SO I CAN GO OBSESS OVER UR WRITING WITH A MILLION FERAL COMMENTS-!!!
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(Cute owl house gif is like, metaphorially u and zhongli in this lol)
EDIT 8/23/23: So this may be inaccurate/not that good to my Hispanic Readers out there! Sorry about that, I'l make sure to do better in the future.
EDIT 1/1/24: Unfortunately there are even more issues here, and I'm really sorry about that. I expanded on it more in my Eldritch fanfic post in Part 2, but it was exoticism of me to use the word "Huangdi". I have since replaced it with "Emperor", and don't intend to just erase the mistake like it never happened. But I did change it in the headcanons for better readability. Again, I'm genuninely sorry about this, and will absolutely be watching out/doing better in the future. I hope you understand.
THIS SOUNDS SO SAD, LIKE THIS COULD DEF BE ANGST, ESP SINCE U HAVE NO FAMILIAR-ISH CULTURE TO TURN TO-
tbh im american and i def dont think theres a u.s. country- oh god at least I hope not, damn but im also familiar with mexican culture so i wouldnt miss the united states, but id miss mexican culture…
BUT!!
You have a lot of amazing people who care about you in Teyvat, so they won’t let you stew in ur homesickness for long
like random said, i could see it being small stuff
ok so imma just-
LATINO! READER TIME BABBYYYYY
(i do this bc its just the culture/language im more familiar with, but dont let that discourage anyone from requesting other cultures! I will def do my research, or ur welcome to tell me all about it so i can write it better! <3)
THAT BEING SAID IM MOSTLY WHITE PLS LMK IF SHIT IS WRONG/SPANISH IS WRONG BC IM STILL A BEGINNER MY BELOVED LATINES!
<3 YOU GUYS
you’ve been in the game-turned-life world of Genshin Impact for nearly 6 months now, turns out time isnt wonky as hell like it is if you were playing the game, half bc u bribed Albedo with answers to his many questions about you if he figured out the time difference, and half bc of ur internal clock
people would notice the cuss words first lmao
like Xiao hearing u stubbing ur toe on the million and one steps up to Wangshu Inn, hijueputa!
or Keqing pointing out the words you coo at the dogs hanging out by the bridge outside the harbor,
un perrito tan buenoooo!! :’)
while most would just, " hmm, maybe a dialect of one of the other countries we havent heard…"
but Zhongli? he’s been ready for centuries in case the prophecy came true within his lifetime, afterall, many things changed while he’s been alive, not crazy to him that you might descend randomly
While everyone else was unprepared, bc u were like… the oldest deity, more legend than history, so ppl just thought Morax was a little overly faithful …so when it actually happened,, Morax was just smirking as he watched ur golden shooting star streak the night sky… while absolute pandemonium consumed the mortals and adepti in liyue lmao
(like that scene of Regina George in Mean Girls watching the student body break out into an all out brawl just smirking 😭 pls god look it up if u dont know what i mean- )
So Morax- Zhongli, has been ready for you, just in case, to pay attention to what kind of person you’d be, learn your favorite clothes/colors/offerings, see what things you’d like to talk about with him (hopefully for hours) etc.
He was observant, and with his memory, he practically gave himself headaches sometimes with how aware he was,
on one of those days he was overwhelmed by the mortal crowds, the smells, the market yelling, and all the change from what he thought he knew-
Zhongli noticed you in your own melancholy, and curious, he began to stroll just behind
You sit at Wanmin restaurant, still somber, and ask Xiangling to
“please try out these recipes? they’re from my world, and id really love to have something like them again..”
a true experimental chef as always, Xiangling quickly takes up your offer, and u follow her into the kitchens in the back (the restaurant is much more real than in game, they have gorgeous inside seating, all shades of red coloring the walls and lots of pretty latticework-)
Zhongli takes a seat finally, he has a usual table at this point he comes in so much coughtorunintoyoucough the staff know it's his and give him tea pretty quickly
the food, and the looks, makes it your favorite restaurant in Liyue, the Liuli Pavilion a little too fancy for casual dining, afterall, Zhongli would know
He’s tried to keep track of your favorite places to be in Liyue too, and kept his near full attention on what you say when he asks after your stays in Liyue (he hasn’t felt the need to pay that much attention or felt that much interest in conversation partners in… decades?)
So when you come out of the kitchen, throwing your head back and laughing, "Sí, sí! It all tastes so close Xiangling! Gracias, thank you!"
He wants… to know.
to know what those strange, but delicious looking, foods are all balanced on two big dinner plates
Xiangling carrying whatever you couldn’t just behind, a pitcher of white liquid, it smells, like cinnamon?
He raises a hand, and offers the extra seats at his table, (when did his tea go cold? he only just sat down, he couldn’t have spent that long thinking about you…)
You notice and look over, a giddy grin lighting up your face (…hmm, perhaps he needs to transform into his Exuvia form and let off some steam, his chest has warmed too much right now for him to just be sitting here…)
You plop into the seat beside him, but not before carefully placing the plates in front of both you and Zhongli
You scootch around until you’re turned towards him, as always, Zhongli looks… actually kind of, happy?
a small soft smile pulls at his lips, his eyes half-lidded as they meet yours, his usual red eyeliner framing his monolids perfectly, he looks like he’s been,, well, sculpted from stone, an artwork come to life
“…My Emperor? Could I trouble you to tell me about the dishes before us?”
the geo god’s pleasantly smooth and deep voice felt so soft asking you that, like he didn’t want to push you one direction or the other
“Oh! Right! Sorry, these are from my home country, back in my world, or at least, as close as Xiangling and I can get to them!”
Your smile brightens your face once more, clearing away any leftover stormclouds from your mood earlier, and as you launch into explaining (Xiangling had to get back to orders, so it’s just you two now)
You list it all, the quintessential: quesadillas, empanadas, tamales, chorizo (you had to combine at least 5 different spices to Mondstadt sausages to get anywhere close to the real thing) the dips obviously, salsa, queso, guacamole, and the easy street tacos, and finally the horchata, but also all the weird fruits Teyvat has with chile, like Sunsettias mixed with Harra from Sumeru or Lavender melons with Wolfhook berries… all surpringly pretty good
(the Sun-Harra combo tastes like mango, a sort of deeper taste of pineapple/kiwi and a sort of light orange taste? all with the nice addition of chile flavors, the Lavender melons and Wolfhooks helped imitate chamoy enough that your heart was satisfied)
…you realize you’ve just been talking about the last meal you had with your family/friends instead of the food after a bit, and Zhongli hasn’t said anything…
you trail off and look back over your shoulder (u were practically about to get your shirt in the imitation guac u were leaning so far over the table to point and talk)
you’re about to sheepishly apologize for taking over the conversation, and ask if he wants to try anything (Zhongli can handle spice so u dont have to worry abt that at least)
but as u finally see his face, u just stop, and dont end up saying anything
He’s just, looking at you.
his smile's not huge, but big enough to make his eyes look happy, and Zhongli’s just… looking at you.
You can’t describe the look he’s giving you, but you suddenly feel… a wave of shyness wash over your heart in your chest, because he’s looking almost like, maybe like, he’s sort of, waiting for you to keep talking, his tan skin warm in the golden rays of the sun beginning to set, you don’t know why you’re noticing any of these things, and he gently, slowly, makes a move to lean into your space a little
almost above your armrest, head inches from your shoulder, he finally moves to stop looking at you-
He looks like a painting as he looks down, his eyelashes almost sitting on his high cheekbones,
you have to move your head to looking at the table too as he moved so close,
you feel your shoulders reflexitively hitch upwards as you brushed the hair on the side of his head as you turned away
He looks around, and then moves his head, not his body, he’s still leaning toward you, to look you right in the eyes again
“Why did you stop? I haven’t said much, I apologize, but it’s only because I wanted to hear you without anything interrupting you.”
You cough a little strained, “Oh! Oh I get it now yeah, thanks-”
“I want to hear you more,” his black eyes begin to warm with gold, you can vaguely see the shape of his diamond pupil revealing itself, “I want to hear about… everything, if you’ll tell me? The language, the food, the drinks, your family, your dances, your country, I want to hear it all. Won’t you please let me hear your voice some more?”
GOOOD LOOORDDDD, ITS SO LONGGGGG IM SO SORRRYYY 😭😭
OKAY IM MOSTLY SORRY THAT THIS SCENARIO HAPPENED??? IDK WHERE ZHONGLI CAME FROM- GOD IM SUBCONCIOUSLY IN LOVE WITH THAT MAN I GUESS, SORRY RANDOMANTICS-
uh, hope somebody got anything out of this, sorry abt the length, again,
also pls somebody tell me if what i said about culture/food was alright! If not I’ll def change it, pls dont let me keep it up if its inaccurate/wrong!!
Safe Travels you guys,
💀♒️
.°•.☆.•°.
♡ the beloveds ♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk
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son-of-a-top-gun · 2 months
Text
Sky's The Limit Part 3
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we're back baby and things are getting spicy (ish)
Warnings: alcohol consumption, mention of strippers/lapdancing, two horny people who desperately need to get off, shameless flirting, Bradley being a babe as usual, continuation of the bob fucks agenda
Sky's The Limit Part 3
Bradley could tell you were starting to get a little down. As one of the only people who actually knew about the book, he was also one of the only people you can tell about how it was really going. You had been giving hints that it was not going well, but after he catches you lying face down in one of the Hard Deck boothes, he decides that’s enough. It was time for you to have a bit of fun, even just for one night.
“Bradley, it wasn’t what it looked like.”
“I know.” He keeps staring ahead, hands still on the wheel. He had offered to give you a lift to his house, where you were supposed to be having a few ‘casual drinks’. You took one look of the bag of balloons and had known exactly what that meant.
“You don’t have to throw me a stupid party.”
“But this isn’t just any party, baby girl. This is a Bradshaw party, which only get offered to the creme de la creme. Besides, you haven’t even been given a proper welcome to San Diego. There’s no way you can stay here one more day without an official welcome.”
You smile at him. Bradley truly was one of the best friends a girl could wish for. Losing his parents only meant he loved people harder and you loved that about him. You couldn’t have imagined anyone more perfect for your sister, you just wanted them to hurry up and realise they were in love with each other so he could legally become part of the family.
“Ugh fine, But you best make -
“Those biscuits you like. Honestly what do you take me for Ladybug? I’ve already got the ingredients in the back.”
You turn around. Of course he did.
******
Of course the party is perfect. Bradley had cued all your favourite songs, supplied all your favourite snacks (as well as some supposed San Diego delicacies) and invited all your new pilot friends, who you had really become quite fond of. They’d all been extra nice to you lately, which made you wonder what sort of desperate vibes you were giving off. Even Jake had been less annoying the last week, perhaps sensing your stress, making less sassy comments, leaving you well alone when you were trying to write and even occasionally letting you rant about the inaccessibility of online archives. The most surprising thing was that your favourite coffee had been turning up at the Hard Deck every morning before you arrived with a little ladybug drawn on it, along with anonymous notes that had literary motivational quotes on it. You had initially attributed it to Bradley, but he denied it and no one else at the party would fess up either.
The party is in full swing, and you are a couple of drinks in, starting to feel relaxed for the first time in weeks.  You were listening to Phoenix tell everyone about her new girlfriend, which was nauseatingly adorable. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt like that about someone. The last guy you went on a date with tried to give you his manuscript to read over the minute you said you were a writer, and after that you swore off casual dating. Which was lucky, because it seemed all the men here were Navy men, which you had sworn off a long time ago.
Without thinking, you find yourself scanning the room. 
Everyone is here, except one particular blonde pilot. You don’t know why you are looking for him. It was just wherever the pilots were, so was he. You had to admit, It was sort of odd for him not to be there. You find yourself wondering if he finally got that hot date he seemed to be begging for. From what the other pilots told you, Jake had always been a massive flirt and had been known to get around most of the women of San Diego. You hated that you were thinking about this so much and took another hefty swig of your drink.
“Hope you didn’t miss me, darlin’.” A familiar voice leans into your ear.
You almost leap out of your skin. “Jesus Christ, Bagman you can’t sneak up on people like that! You nearly scared the pants off me.” He looks down on you with that annoying smile of his and you suddenly feel very cold in your little strappy vest top.
He leans down. “Trust me,  don’t need to scare you to get you out of your pants sweetheart.”
You roll your eyes at him and are about to come back with a witty retort when you see out of the corner of your eye Bradley brandishing an empty bottle. He claps his hands and everyone turns around.
“I think it’s time for a game guys.”
“Really Bradley?” You raise an eyebrow. “Spin the bottle?”
“What, are you scared?” Jake immediately chimes in. You shoot him daggers.
“Only of having to touch you.” You smile sweetly at him as he mimes an arrow going through his chest.
“Can it lovebirds!” Bradley announces, rubbing his hands with glee, “We’re not so basic to play Spin the bottle.” Bradley looks at you and grins. You know this means trouble. “It’s time to play Truth or Dare!”
There is a chorus of cheers across the room.
“Bradley, you are in your thirties.” You tut under your breath, but he ignores it.
He spins the bottle first. It lands on Fanboy first, who chooses truth. 
“Which superhero would you bang?” Bradley asks
“It’s got to be Catwoman right?” Jake is indignant.
Fanboy takes a moment to really think it through, “I dunno, I like to think about what Wonder Woman could do. The lasso could come in handy. What about you guys?”
“I like Batgirl.” Bob offers.
Coyote suggests “Mystique, you know, for roleplaying. It’s basically like having infinite wishes. Also love me a bad girl.” Payback sagely nods.
“How much have you guys all been thinking about this?” You turn to Natasha, who shrugs.
“Jean Grey does it for me.” This made sense, having seen the pictures of her new ginger girlfriend.
They spin the bottle again, this time landing on Bob. He says Truth and you can see Jake already brewing the question, so you jump in.
“How many hookups have you had in the last year?”
“That’s not fair, I was going to ask!”
“Quit your whining.” You turn to Bob, whose cheeks have tinged pink. “Go on.”
“Oh, er, I don’t know, maybe” He starts counting in his head. “Twenty, twenty-five” He looks up. “Are we counting repeat incidents?”
“As in you had sex with them more than once?”
“Uh, yes, I guess.”
“Sure.”
“Because that would bring it up to sixty, seventy- “ You watch as everyone’s jaws go slack. 
“Are you joking?” Jake is stunned. Bradley turns his head. “How?”
“I don’t know, I just like helping people, and I tend to run into women who need help with their coffee, or taking things to their car, or need something tall fixing around the house…” As Bob rambles, it’s cute to see how unaware he is. You lock eyes with Jake, raising your eyebrows to say I told you. Bob fucks.
Third time around, the bottle lands on you. 
“Truth.”
“Oh come on, not everyone can say truth or we are all going to die of boredom.” Jake folds his arms.
“Firstly, I don’t think Bob’s truth was boring at all. In fact I found it very interesting.” You say, throwing a wink to Bob. “But fine, have it your way. Dare.”
This time, Reuben, who has been very quiet, pops up. 
“You have to give Jake a lapdance.”
“What the hell Javy? I thought we were friends.” He shrugs. 
“Just for one minute.
“No way.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t worry too much about it.” Jake sits back.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean Bagman?” There is a chorus of oos from around the room.
“Nothing, it means nothing!” 
“I get it that I’m not your usual type Seresin, but you think you wouldn’t enjoy it?”
“No, just… I mean you seem like the sort who would hate strip clubs.”
You go to speak but bite your tongue.
What Jake didn’t know was that for your last book you had a whole plot involving strippers which meant you spent several days with dancers researching their life. One of them, Brandy, became one of your best friends in New York and had given you many a lesson in lapdancing (to make your writing accurate, of course). But you figured this was a fact best left unsaid. Besides, this was a rare chance to get Jake to eat some humble pie.
“Yeah…But a dare is a dare. Javy…put on Pony.”
You were grateful that the hot weather had meant you had put on a vest and a fairly cute pair of daisy dukes. If you had been wearing a dress there was no way this would be happening. You make a show of stretching while they set the room up, Jake sat on a chair on the middle. You wink at him as you bend over and you see him flush just a little. 
Javy gives the signal for the music. You are kneeling on the floor in front of Jake,.
“Hope you’re ready to have your world rocked Bagman. Bradley, look away.”
“Yes ma’am.” Bradley, seeing you as his honorary younger sister, did what he was told. “You took a deep breath and then a large swig of whisky.
You sat on your knees and let your hair down, slowing rolling your neck as the music starts to play. You try to ignore the hand shaking and slowly look up towards Jake. You expected him to be smug but he’s looking at you with such a look of confusion and pity that you suddenly realise. He genuinely doesn’t think you can do it.  You are suddenly filled with a devilish combination of spite and rage and power. You close your eyes, slowly rolling your body and feeling all the way up yourself, grinding up on some imaginary guy until you flash your eyes open and send him one cautionary wink before slowly licking your fingers. 
You crawl towards Jake and push his knees apart, slowly rising up between them. It’s a good thing he’s wearing shorts right now, his thighs exposed, so you can feel how his skin burns under yours. The look of pity has turned into something else, both fear and astonishment and something darker, but you have no time for this. Your nails dig slightly into his flesh as you rise up slowly between his legs until you are eye to eye. You slowly wrap your legs to the outside of his thighs and slowly start grinding down on his crotch until. 
Oh. 
At least Jake’s arrogance was starting to make sense if all of what you were feeling was true. With this realisation you look up and lock eyes. Jake’s look burns through you like he could devour you whole and you feel him grip onto your thigh, just a little squeeze, and then you suddenly have a terrible physical urge between your legs, when the music suddenly stops.
“That’s one minute!” Reuben calls out. For a moment, neither of the two of you move.
“Guys? You can get off each other you know?” Phoenix interjects. You both leap away from each other. “Although I should say that was phenomenal.” You croak out a thanks before heading to the kitchen.
What the hell was that? You wonder as you pour yourself a glass of water. I guess it really had been a while. Your heart is racing and you steady yourself against the counter, closing your eyes.
“What the hell are they teaching you on that pHD of yours?” Your eyes open to see Jake standing in the door with his arm leaning against the frame. He must know how his arm looks when he does that. You hate how much you like it.
You take a moment and reassume your confidence, laughing a little. “Oh that? Just a little something I picked up back in New York.”
He walks towards you until he’s right next to you on the counter before leaning in. You can feel his hot breath in your ear. “I knew there was something fishy about this pHD stuff. And now I know.” Your breath hitches. Surely there was no way he could have figured it out, could he? Your lapdance scene wasn’t that similar in the book. He looks away from you. “I thought you reminded me of someone and now I know it’s JLo in Hustlers.” He looks over you with a slightly more sincere look. “So are you..you know?” He waves his hand. You can’t believe that out of all the things, the subject of strippers would make Jake Seresin awkward.
“And what if I was?”
But much to your surprise, Jake shrugs. “Everyone has to pay their bills somehow.” He turns back towards you.  “It’s just if you’re not, I think you should seriously consider it. I think you would earn a lot of money.”
“Would you come to my club then?” The alcohol is making you overconfident, so you gently stroke your index finger down his chest.
“Baby.” He now leans his arm on the kitchen cabinet behind you. His face is so close, just above you. You could smell his cologne again and you find yourself wishing you could lick it off his neck.  “I would be there every damn day.” You felt a flutter in your stomach. This was dangerous territory, but it was too late. What would it be like to kiss Jake Seresin, you wondered, leaning forward just a little -
“There you are Ladybug!” Bradley’s voice booms and the two of you pull apart once again. “Hangman, I hope you’re not trying to get seconds.”
The two of you return to the party. You don’t see Hangman for the rest of the party except once where you catch eyes across you the room. You smile at him and he smiles back, before you are pulled back into conversation. When you go to find him again, he is gone.  Weird that he left without saying goodbye. 
When you finally get home and get to bed, you find yourself instinctively reaching your hand between your legs when it happens. Who flashes into your head but a certain blond, handsome and potentially well-hung pilot.
You were fucked.
---
hope you all enjoyed! Let me know if you want to be tagged in part four!
Tagged:
@dizzybee03 @mrsroosterbradshaw @tgmreader @dgs8891 @alldaysdreamer @eloquentdreamer @ravenwtfbro @dempy @milkbummm @memoriesat30 @yourfavouritecitizen @burningwitchprincess @il0vebeingdelulu
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luffyvace · 21 days
Note
Helloooo! I saw ur request open and writing for saiki k! I see so little context of him 😭
May I request where saiki is dating his favorite author(she is an anonymous writer) and he didn't know (like she Naver though to tell him about it and she Naver really think of her work when w him or when in school) and maybe finding out through his dad that she is ? And how would he react and think after he found out ?
(sorry if my request was long 😭)
Yeah me too !! 😭
ohhh wow! What an interesting and fun request! Thank you :}
(you used ‘she’ so reader implied is fem but I won’t mention you being a girl just in case <3)
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Don’t worry it’s not too long at all~
☕️🌷
Everyday you get home after school and write, as a comfort and to make some change to buy things you like :)
You do publish your work, but your an anonymous writer
your sales have been doing really good and everything! Your forever grateful!
it makes you happy seeing as though writing makes you happy and is your comfort!
so the fact that you could be doing that for others makes you joyous 💓
there’s also your boyfriend Kusuo!
he’s a reserved and genuine guy who treats you very well :)
you’ve been an item for a while now and your really happy in your relationship!
man you’ve really got it going for yourself!! 😋💪
this company has been loyally publishing your work for quite some time which makes you satisfied to see they like your writing!
school’s good too! You and Kusuo have a friend group who you go out with pretty often
(alright that was a little bit of some reader POV now here’s the fun part! 😆)
Kusuo finished his coffee jelly and was going down stairs to put the dishes in the sink
until he spotted his dad reading his favorite book/manga!!
”hey dad what book is that?”
his dad’s inner dialogue: “holy crap my son is talking to me!”
“oh uh nothing son just uh (book/manga title name)—I uhh, brought a copy from work home”
”they have that series there?”
”yeah! We do! We have every chapter! Actually, we’re the ones publishing them! Do want me to get you the set?…..if I lick my bosses shoes a couple extra times I’m sure I could pull a few strings..”
”thanks.”
his dad’s inner dialogue: “holy crap I just had a conversation with my son! He was wanted to talk to…me! I can’t believe it..!”
saiki’s inner dialogue: “goodness..😒🤦”
”n-no problem son! Heheh..”
He was gonna go back to his room but stopped at the stairs
“hey dad..the author uses a pen name..do you know who they are?”
“Huh-! Oh!- yeah I do! I’ve met them in person actually- do you wanna meet them?”
Kusuo nods and walks off
his dad then proceeds to dance in his living room, as he’s had a successful conversation with his son that Kusuo started 🕺🕺
Later that week, saiki and his dad wait for you to show up at his job with the latest chapter
he was indeed able to pull a few strings…by licking some shoes..
when you walk in Kusuo’s dad came up to you and (re)introduced you to his son
”Kusuo this is (Name), the author you asked me to introduce you to. (Name), meet my son Kusuo”
you looked surprised to see Kusuo and that he wanted to meet you?? I mean you know your anonymous but he likes your work?! You had no idea he was buying!
Kusuo has a slightly amused expression on his face
“Kusuo? You…”
..were at a loss of words at such a funny situation! (LOL)
you two ended up explaining both sides of the situation
you said you love to write, but anonymously and you never got around to telling him
he said this is his favorite series from you and your his favorite author, he’s been buying for a while to be frank!
ohhh!
this may be the way his parents found out you were a couple and let me tell you he was less than pleased..(not that he wanted to hide it but his parents…..:^ yeah 😃)
Saiki got the privilege of getting the first copy of the latest chapter before it was even published! :)
and now he always does <3
he also has the perk of getting it for free!
horray! Now he can save his money for coffee jelly- 😚
LOL not that he doesn’t wanna support you
you simply give it to him and he accepts ♥︎
he also gets the honors of helping you decide things for the story!
He gleefully reads the parts in which his opinion was inserted
however he doesn’t want to influence any major plot points- he doesn’t like spoilers :P
(It is possible he persuades people at school to buy your books so you can have the funding to keep going and make you happy simultaneously—but we’ll never really know 🤷‍♀️ )
your actually my first saiki k request! Thank you! I appreciate it love!
hopefully you had a good meal out of these headcanons cherished anonymous~ ☺️
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babyhatesreality · 1 year
Note
Hi if you take request I just have this in my mind:
Sometimes when you are somewhere outside (like in a mall) you get distracted by all those people and colorful stores. And if you don’t hold your daddies hands you will easily go another way.
So what if she is to distracted by something and Steve and Bucky just further without noticing that she didn’t follow (maybe they are stressed or smt like that) and she just follows someone who looks like one of her daddy’s and she only notices later that this was not her daddy and she was lost.
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Okay so first things first, I'm old and don't know how to put the two similar asks together nicely so here’s a screenshot and get off my lawn. :P (edited to add: Also for @justme1234456 who requested this too!<3)
Second, I had to alter both asks a bit to align it with what I see as canon in my AU. I really hope that’s okay, and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for. I have to be honest about what I think could actually happen in this little world I’ve created otherwise I just can’t write it truthfully. If that offends anyone, I’m truly sorry for hurting feelings, and I encourage you to find what you’re needing with many of the other insanely-more-talented-than-I-am writers on this site. 
Break Away
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Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader
Warnings: DDLG (SSC), language, pet names, praise, scared reader, angst, tears, large and pushy crowds, overprotective Papa and Daddy, fluff fluff fluff and did I mention fluff? 
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 
What started as a nice walk in the park quickly turned into one of their worst nightmares. 
It had been raining for days in New York. Normally you wouldn’t have minded, having a massive pile of toys to play with and books to have read to you, and an endless supply of other family members in the tower to keep you entertained. But you were fidgety, constantly needing to be on the move. Your daddies had taken you to the big gym floor and set you loose on the giant running track, they’d taken you to the Olympic-sized indoor pool, and they’d even managed to convince Tony to let them take the Quinjet on a quick spin around the state. All of which managed to keep you satisfied...for that day. Then the next day they’d find you with your nose pressed up against the sliding glass door to the patio, watching the pouring rain, asking politely if you could go outside. Four thousand times in a row. 
Finally the rain let up right before your bedtime, and the ground became okay enough to not be a giant puddle by morning. You were so excited about going outside, wiggling around so much, that Bucky later grumbled to Steve that it had been easier escaping from the German army than getting you into your coat and rain boots. 
“We goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the PAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!” you sung at the top of your little lungs, running back and forth with joy as you held onto Steve and Bucky’s hands, walking through the hallways of the tower. You squealed in delight when they both lifted their arms in tandem, swinging you into the air. “Again again please!!” you begged, laughing uproariously with delight when they obliged. 
Steve grinned down at you as you giggled gleefully. He was craving the fresh air just as much as you were and felt as joyful as you did. “Okay, so when we get to Central Park, what are you going to do, angel?” he asked you. 
“Hold your hand always!”
“That’s my smart girl. You hold my hand or Daddy’s hand at all times. And what happens if we get separated and you don’t see us?”
“Look for a ‘Venger to help!” 
“Right again! I’m so proud of you!” You giggled and blushed, wiggling around extra hard to let Papa know how happy his praise made you. “Now. Last one. If you don’t see someone who can help you, what do you do?”
“Light up shoes and stay PUT!”
“Great job, baby!” Steve cheered, suddenly swinging around and lifting you up into the air while you laughed crazily. All the littles in the Avengers Tower had light up shoes with tiny trackers in them, so if anything ever happened to them outside the tower and they were in little space, they’d always have a tracker on them that a caregiver could follow. It wasn’t too hard to convince any little to wear the shoes that lit up when they stomped; in fact, you all had gone through several pairs of light up shoes, delighted at the light up features. Hey, the system worked. 
Bucky grinned at the two of you, reaching back out for your hand the moment your feet touched the ground. “Good job remembering the rules, Trouble,” he said. You wiggled with joy and blushed again, making him chuckle. He looked up at his husband. “You sure you wanna try this without caps and glasses?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows. “No disguises at all?”
Steve smile warmly at his worrywart husband. “We’re not undercover, Buck. We live in this city too, and everyone already knows it anyways. It’ll be okay, and if it’s not, we’ll just ask people to respect our space or we’ll go a different direction. It’ll be fine.”
Bucky kept the smile, but tightened his grip on your hand. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A little while later, the three of you were enjoying the birds singing, the fresh, cool breeze blowing through the trees, and the hum of human activity all around you. It was so lovely, it seemed like everyone in New York City was trying to get outside to see the sun. You held tight to your daddies’ hands, but your head was constantly whipping around, trying to take in all the sights at once.  
Suddenly, there was a scream in the distance. Bucky and Steve’s heads snapped in the direction of the sound automatically, their grips tightening on yours. Out of nowhere, this group of seven or eight teens came barreling at the three of you, all with their phones out, screaming about Captain America and The Winter Soldier. With the speed of light, Bucky tucked you underneath his vibranium arm, cuddling you against his body to keep you safe. This meant you had to let go of Papa’s hand, and you tried to turn your head to make sure he was okay, but Daddy’s grip on you was too strong and you couldn’t see him. 
Before you knew it, the crowd grew suddenly larger, and you heard people pointing at the group of teens in recognition- they were something called a...’influencer’ or a ‘TikTok star’ or something...you didn’t understand all the yelling. You got very, very still, hanging desperately onto Daddy’s shirt as he tried to be polite- Avengers had an image to maintain, especially the ‘reformed’ ones like him- but get these people to back off. 
One of the boys grabbed onto the vibranium arm that was holding you, screaming about how cool it was. It scared you so badly, not seeing this boy until his hands were reaching right where you were at and the loudness, that you stumbled backwards, causing you to slip out from underneath Bucky’s arm.
 Bucky’s head whipped around the second he lost contact with you. “Steve!” he hollered over the melee as he tried to move the kid away from you. “Get her!” All you caught was a glimpse of Steve’s searching blue eyes before a tidal wave of people crashed into you. It was insane- some sort of mob mentality had taken over. Between the two famous Avengers and the internet sensations surrounding them, everyone lost their minds. You tried to push against the tide, tried desperately to keep your eyes on either of them, but the crush of the crowd was too much. Your throat choked up in fear- you couldn’t even call out for them. You were carried away by the wave. It seemed to go on forever and you couldn’t stop it as it pushed you farther and farther away. 
Finally there was a break in the people that had been crowding you, and you pushed with all your might to get free of the mob. Trying to keep calm and be brave, you looked around, remembering Rule #2 as hard as you could. Your heart leapt when you saw a long mane of red hair a distance away, and you instantly ran towards it, thinking it was Aunt Natasha. Just as you were about to throw your arms around the woman, she suddenly turned. It wasn’t Auntie Nat. You mumbled an awkward apology and ran in the other direction, embarrassed. 
Gulping hard to try to keep your scared sobs inside, you came to a halt. You looked around and didn’t see anything you recognized. There was a pretty, tall fountain with an angel on top close to you, but you didn’t remember it from before. “Light up shoes and stay put,” you whispered to yourself. “Light up shoes and stay put.” You stomped your feet as hard as you could, seeing the rainbow lights activate. You looked around desperately, waiting for them to come and rescue you. You stomped harder and harder, the tears building in your eyes. No Papa. No Daddy. You slowly walked the few steps to the fountain and carefully sat down, the tears now running down your face. Every now and then, you stomped your feet to keep the shoes lit up. “Please find me,” you whispered tearfully, pleading into the air. 
Suddenly, there were shrieks and gasps coming from in front of you. You looked up to see people suddenly rushing to the sides, looking like they were dodging to get out of the way of a speeding train. And they were. A speeding train in the form of Daddy. 
Bucky came racing towards you faster than you’d ever seen anyone run. You could almost see the flames coming off his feet. The crowd parted for him, but he didn’t give two flying fucks if he ran any of them over. With barely a bend of the knees, he came flying over the stone balustrade walls surrounding the fountain, his eyes locked on your tiny form. All you could do was reach your hands to him before he reached you, scooping you up and crushing you to his chest like he was never going to let you go again. 
You just clung to him, still too frightened to do anything else. “Hey, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here and he’s not letting you go,” Bucky was murmuring into your ear, so fast you could barely make out the words. “I am so sorry baby. Daddy will never let that happen again, you hear me? Never again. Never, never again. I’m right here.” You just whimpered and nodded, your tears soaking the front of his shirt. You heard another set of feet come to a screeching halt near you, but you were still too worked up to turn to see if it was Papa. You knew if it wasn’t, Daddy was going to keep you safe, and that was all you could handle at the moment. “Deep breaths, baby, can you do that for me? Can you take some deep breaths?” Daddy asked frantically, tilting his head back to look at you. “Can you take some deep breaths with me? Some deep breaths with Daddy?” You managed to nod again, and relief flooded his face. “That’s my good girl. Okay, we’re gonna sit down and take some breaths together.”
Bucky sat on the edge of the fountain where he’d found you. He turned you in his lap so you could see Steve sitting next to the both of you. Your left hand shot out instantly, needing to touch him too. Steve took your hand, covering it with his other, stroking and patting it, his eyes a warring storm of fear and relief, while Bucky held you tight, 
“Okay, baby, let’s breathe together. You remember how we breathe when we’re scared?” Daddy asked, looking down at you, his tone a bit calmer now. You could see he was still struggling too, and that gave you the nudge to be brave enough to breathe together. You nodded. “We can do it. We’ll do it together, Daddy and Baby. Okay, here we go. Breathe in.” You two locked eyes and breathed in, Bucky counting as he inhaled. “One, two, three, four,” he said on the air, then nodded at you. You held your breath with him as his lips moved, counting to four again, but not letting any air out. “Breathe out, one, two, three, four, five, six,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes locked on you while you went through the exercise together. He silently counted to six as you held your breath again. You went through the cycle three times together, feeling better and better each time. When you finished, Daddy smiled proudly at you. “I knew you could do it, Baby. Daddy loves you so much.”
“Love you too Daddy,” you said, tucking your forehead into his chest again, happy that he was okay now too. You brought Papa’s hand up to your face. “Love you too Papa.” You squeezed his fingers, pressing them in to your cheek.
“Papa loves you so much,” Steve responded, his voice tight with emotion. “Are you okay honey?” You pursed your lips for a moment, but nodded. 
“M’okay. Big peoples.”
“Yeah, that crowd was crazy, right?”
“Too loud.”
“Definitely too loud. I’m so sorry baby, that should never have happened.”
“They all go away?”
“Yeah, they’re all away now. You remember how Uncle Tony says that he can watch everybody everywhere?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, he saw on his cameras that the mean crowd was bothering us and his flying suits came to help.”
“WOW.”
“We’ll have to thank him when we get home.”
“Okay, I help.”
Both your daddies chuckled, relieved that you were starting to sound like you again. “What do you think, Baby? Do you want to go home?” Bucky asked, bouncing you a little, trying to gauge how you were feeling. 
“Um,” you said. Now that you were over the fear, you weren’t QUITE ready to be back inside just yet. “We look at duckies please?” The men exchanged a quick look, checking in with each other, before they turned back to you, smiling. 
“Okay, Trouble, we will go look at the ducks,” Bucky said softly, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good manners.” He stood up and was about to tell you that you were only staying at the park if he carried you for the rest of the day, but the iron grip you had on his tee shirt and the way your legs locked around his waist let him know that you had no intention of being set down, anyways. He pressed another kiss into your hair. 
They walked to a quieter section by the water, grinning and laughing as you insisted on pointing to each and every duck, naming them one by one. After about ten minutes, Steve got a pedicab to get you all back to the street so you wouldn’t have to walk through all the people again. You’d made a full recovery by the time you all got back to Avengers’ Tower, babbling excitedly about all the ducky friends you’d made today and making plans to bring them bread tomorrow.
But Bucky still didn’t set you down for the rest of the evening. And you were okay with that. 
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tojifile · 6 months
Text
Dazai Osamu: The Protector
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Pt. 3 “Did you miss me, mistress?”
Genre: Romance & fluff // PM!Dazai x f!reader
⚠️: SEVERE adolescence romance
A/N: SOMEONE MENTIONED ME AS ONE OF THEIR FAV FANFIC WRITERS AND I NEED TO KNOW WHO IT WAS // Sorry for being super inactive. I’ve been trying to write so many stories (they’re all in my drafts and they’re all about Dazai). I wanted to write something about Dazai’s death but I also wanted to continue “The Protector” AKA my favorite series ever. I daydream about the plot everyday (like a normal person). To get to the point, I will be extremely inactive and will only be posting “The Protector” and maybe do a few requests. This has been sitting in my drafts for days and this is your typical teenage romance. For comparison, I started this around August 11, and others that I started July 💀💀 (Lastly, don’t mind me using ADA!Dazai for the pictures, he’s just so cute and I totally didn’t run out of PM!Dazai icons), This is now September me !! DAZAI IS ALIVE WOOOO
Inspo: Dangerously Yours The Highwayman & lines from Masquerade
Links: Masterlist … will be making a new masterlist
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“Oh mistress.. you’re burning up..” Dazai spoke in a soft voice as he touched your forehead gently with the back of his palm. His touch was gentle and calculated, as was his voice.
It had been a day since you’ve been rained on and now you were sick. Thankfully, Dazai is well, he didn’t seem to be ill at all. Your father was worried about you but due to some flight restrictions he couldn’t come home as early as he wanted to. As it turned out there was a typhoon and your father couldn’t leave at all.
In the few days you’ve known Dazai he was always kind to you. The aura he gave off left you infatuated. Maybe it was because you’ve been sheltered, maybe because he was young and so were you, or maybe because you’ve seen him in a thousand plays, read him in as many books. When you heard the most beautiful piece of music you thought he’d like that. Once, you saw a beautiful couple strolling and knew that’s how you’d be with him.
Your mind was full of him and you couldn’t understand why. “Mistress..” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he whispered gently. You looked at him with a gentle gaze to signal that you were listening, “I’d have to leave you for a few hours today, for an important meeting. A doctor and two men from the mafia, directly under Hirotsu-san will take care of you while I’m gone.”
Dazai spoke in a soft and caring voice. He wanted to make sure that you would be okay. His words made you frown slightly which made him smile. To him, you looked adorable. He chuckled quietly then added, “It’ll only be for a few hours mistress, you’ll barely notice that I’m gone.” You didn’t want to hear it, you were being petty and childish yet he didn’t mind.
“Mistress, please speak to me..” he pleaded in a soft voice as he got closer to you. Your heard was turned away from him, you were acting in a paltry manner, “Please mistress, I have to be at that meeting, I wouldn’t want to go without speaking to you..” he quietly added as you continued to ignore him. He lifted your hand gently and kissed the back of your palm with his rough lips.
He frowned when you only responded with a nod. It seemed like he hadn’t gotten the reaction that he wanted. Dazai then gently placed your hand back to your side and looked at you, as if pondering something intricate. In actuality he was just thinking of you. He only thought of how gently you laid and how soft you looked with your head slightly sinking onto the pillow.
As the doctor and bodyguards arrived and went up to your room Dazai checked the time on the beautifully decorated wall clock on top of the door frame—too bad that the clock showed that it was time for him to leave. Dazai left with a frown, deep down he found your antics amusing but a part of him yearned for your attention and reassurance. Now that he left you were stuck with a room full of people you didn’t know.
His meeting went on for hours. You didn’t know how long you could stay under the careful supervision of these three unfamiliar faces. The doctor checked up on your symptoms and progress while the bodyguards stood silently next to your bed. You missed Dazai.
“Did you miss me mistress?” His words woke you up from the trance you were in, due to your various thoughts of when he’ll be back, finally—he came.
Dazai was holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers wjth a wide smile on his usually, cold face, “I saw you looking at them through the window of the flower shop when we were in town for your birthday, mistress.” He spoke fondly as if he thought of you and your happiness dearly.
The doctor and the bodyguards were then dismissed by Dazai. He carefully put the flowers into a vase and poured just the right amount of water in, making sure they’ll be preserved and beautiful even if they would wilt in a few days. His actions made the butterflies in your stomach rampage. “Thank- Thank you, Dazai-kun,” you spoke softly as you looked over at the flowers, sitting peacefully in the vase.
“You’re welcome mistress,” he replied, “Well then, shouldn’t you answer my question, mistress? Did you miss me?” He repeated. You looked away and nodded gently in response to his question. He made you feel safe and frightened all at the same time. A huge wave of emotions drowned you every time he was near, you didn’t know if you were on top of the world or 6ft under.
He smiled softly at your answer. You’ve only known each other for four days yet it felt like four decades. Maybe it was the fact that you were shut off from the outside world for most of your life. It could also be the fact that you haven’t received such affection from a man.
But it also could be the way he looks at you. The way he listens to you intently. How he always keeps you safe even more so than your past bodyguards did. Although, it could just be the fact that he’s from the mafia. That he just wanted to keep his job. Your heart shattered as you thought deeply about every interaction and how superficial it was.
Dazai soon began to notice that you were deep in thought. He decided to stay by your bedside as he looked at you fondly. As if you were a rare sight, one that could only be seen once in a lifetime. His attraction to you was more than superficial. It could’ve also been the fact that he had never received such innocent affection from his peers nor those in authority.
Being by your side helped him escape the cruel world he truly lived in. Is this what falling in love feels like? Maybe near enough. He kept telling himself to snap out of it, “An executive of the Port Mafia? In love with the daughter of a wealthy and powerful ally? Pathetic.” He told himself. Dazai’s true purpose held him back.
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Scheduled post: 09/30/23 18:00PM GMT+8 Philippine Standard Time
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