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dreamingofep · 4 months

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A Blue Velvet Crush

(Elvis/Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

TW: Cussing, teasing, SMUTTT, fingering

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact)

Word Count: 5.4K

A/N: Hello everyone! This picture of Elvis lives rent free in my head and I knew when I first saw it, I had to write something for it.

If you've never seen some of this performance, I'd recommend watching! I'll make another post with the youtube link!

Thank you again❤️

Sorry for any spelling mistakes or goofs.

Mississippi, September 26th, 1956

Traffic was backed up for miles and the buzz in the air was electrifying. You couldn’t hide your nerves though. You weren’t even supposed to be here today but by the grace of God, you got thrown in the ring and had to cover today’s most important story. Elvis Presley was back in his hometown of Tupelo, Mississippi to perform a charity concert. His rise to fame seemed to happen overnight and everyone was dying to see him in person.

You were just an intern at the Tupelo Mirror and your supervisor that was running the Elvis story got sick this morning. Eric called you at the crack of dawn, frantic that no one was going to be there to take pictures. You had only been at the newspaper for a month and a half, you didn’t want to overstep your role and be too forward, but you mentioned that you have photography experience. You ran your college photography club and were majoring in journalism. You know you can take some decent shots of him. You try to sell yourself, affirming you can do this! The whole reason you were working for the newspaper was to get a better shot of getting a job at a newspaper company after you graduated. You thought this would be the perfect way to gain the experience. And if you got some good pictures of Elvis Presley? That could change your whole life.

You did have a fondness of the man but like, who didn’t at your age? He was the new cool guy who was causing havoc wherever he went. He was talented and had this luring sense about him. You hadn’t ever seen him in person, but based on the few televised appearances he’s made, he was beyond incredible. You knew he had a talent that no one had ever had. Your parents would always make a fuss if you were watching him and tried to make you feel bad for it.

“No Christian boy should be moving like that! It’s abhorrent.” Your parents used to say.

You’d just roll your eyes and grumble under your breath. Your parents didn’t understand that he was something young people could love and be fully immersed in without having to act all prim and proper about it. There was no other artist that would make you feel the way Elvis made his audiences feel. He was passionate and he felt the music to his very soul. It showed so easily he didn’t have to say he loved what he was doing.

And now you were going to be feet away from Elvis, taking his picture and maybe even getting the chance to ask him a few questions. The cars started moving forward more and before you could get through the gates, a police officer stopped you. You rummaged through your satchel and pulled out your press pass. He quickly nodded and directed you to the portion of the lot where other photographers and press reporters were gathered. You quickly find a spot and throw your car in park. You throw your satchel over your head and grab your camera out of its bag. It wasn’t the most high-end camera but it took nice pictures. You double-checked the camera had enough film and quickly made a beeline to the stage.

There were thousands of people here already and the buzz in the air was electric. You saw girls jumping up and down giddy that they were about to see Elvis live. You had some of the men standing next to them with a bored expression on their faces like they didn’t want to be there. You had to play it cool though. You had your press badge on and the last thing you needed was for someone to see you acting giddy when you had to be professional today.

There was a corralled section for the press behind ropes that gave you a bit better access on the side of the stage but it was still very crowded. Not only that, but it was all men here and they were all significantly taller than you. You couldn’t see a damn thing from this area and became worried you weren’t going to be able to get one good photograph of this entire thing!

You try to push and shove your way closer to the front but just get these condescending looks toward you and don’t budge an inch for you. You didn’t expect anything less honestly, the industry was made up of men and wasn’t exactly kind to women entering the workplace. You shake it off, not letting it get to you too much.

The audience starts screaming as the band takes their place on stage. It’s a small band with just a drummer, bassist, and guitar player. They’re all smiles when they hear the crowd go wild for them. Your eyes are focused on the side of the stage though. You want to get the first glimpse of him when he gets on this stage.

The audience continues to grow antsy and an announcer hops on stage. He steps in front of the microphone at center stage and taps it with his finger.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you all are very excited to have one of our very own from Tupelo be here today. I need you to give a warm welcome to Elvis Presley.”

The crowd erupts at his name and everyone bursts out in insane excitement. You keep your eyes on the side of the stage and you raise the camera to your face, getting ready for the first shot.

The audience gets louder and you feel the hair on your arms rise. There you see him. He’s dressed in a velvety blue long-sleeve and loose black slacks with his perfect white oxfords. His hair was greased back and looked shiny. He had his guitar on and made his way to the microphone. From this angle, he looked so tall, his legs easily gliding him across the stage.

He carried this nervous energy about him tho. He puts his hand in his pocket and grabs the microphone with the other hand.

Click.

He starts Heartbreak Hotel and drives the place insane. Everyone is screaming and some girls are even crying. His voice rings out flawlessly and once he starts singing, there’s no stopping him. He can’t seem to stand still. Whether it’s the music moving him or the nerves, he is shaking and moving, making the crowd even more insane.

There are times when the screams overpower his voice coming through the microphone. He has an amused look on his face the whole time though. Especially when he swings his hips and makes the girls go bezerk. You catch yourself blushing at those moves, how he can move his hips so easily as he makes these in-passion faces. He made you feel something you’ve never felt before. It was bad, it was lust driving you to keep looking at what he was going to do next. You wanted him to move more to see just how those hips would move in other circumstances…

Click.

Fucking focus.

He wasn’t afraid to get close to his fans. It looked like he really loved them. You could tell he moved his leg just to get them going and have them look there. Or how he’d say a certain word and prolong it all sensually, it drove the place nuts. Even just the way he held the microphone and dragged it along beside him. He commanded that stage by doing the smallest things. Elvis walks slowly to the edge of the stage where dozens of fans reach out their hands for him. He gets close and reaches out his hand too, still singing and never missing a beat.

Click.

You get the side profile of him but you think it’s going to be a great picture when it develops. What you really want is a perfect picture of his face straight onto the camera. That would be a great way to solidify that you are a great photographer and can do this professionally.

Elvis finishes his set and gets rushed off stage into the building behind the arena. You follow the crowd that’s trying to get to him, hoping you can get another picture of him that’s even better than the ones you took. The other photographers aren’t paying any attention to you and push and shove their way through. You huff annoyed, hoping you can get in there before they close the doors.

You find a spot on the side but all the men in here are so much taller and crowding Elvis. You slump by the door, frustrated that you might have ruined your big chance to prove yourself at the newspaper as you haven’t gotten a single shot of his face straight on. You wanted to the perfect shot and it seems your opportunity was wasted.

“Alright everyone it’s time to leave. Elvis won’t be answering any more questions,” a man bellows. Most of the men try to protest but they slowly start to funnel out of the door. You continue to get pushed aside until you’re almost behind the door. You don’t move from behind there because, for a brief second, a devious idea pops into your head.

Just stay here long enough for everyone to leave and ask for a picture when he’s alone.

Your heart pounds away at just the thought of being alone with Elvis but you had to try it. The worst he could say was no and get out.

The last few remaining men shuffle out of the room and Elvis yells out that he’ll be right out. The door shuts closed, making your little hiding spot be exposed in plain sight.

Elvis had his back to the door so he didn’t see you right away. You sighed in relief for that but had to work up the courage to say something to him.

What exactly should you say in this situation? ‘Hi I snuck in your dressing room even though I was told to get out, can I take a few pictures of you for the newspaper?’

You cringed just thinking about it. You took a few deep breaths and straightened out your dress.

“Umm, excuse me, Elvis?” You say sheepishly.

He turns around quickly at the sound of your voice and stares wide-eyed at you. He doesn’t say anything right away and neither do you because seeing him this close and in person is too much.

He is beautiful, in every shape and form, he is beautiful. You’ve never seen such a handsome-looking man before in your life and have no words. Logical thinking went out the window with him and he looks at you with the same expression on his face. You haven’t said more than four words to him but you want him. You want him to look at you and touch you and never stop. Your core flutters at that scandalous thought.

“You scared me there honey. H-how’d you get in here?” He asks with a mischievous grin forming on his face.

“W-w-well I uhhh. Well, I work for the newspaper and I was wondering if I could take a few more pictures of you?” You ask nervously. A long silence fills the room and you are about to turn on your heels and run for the door when he gives you another cheeky smile.

“Sure, I don’t mind at all. What was your name lil’ darlin’?” He asks smoothly.

Lil’ darlin’.

Jesus Christ I’m not going to make it out of here alive with all his charm suffocating me.

“Oh gosh Elvis, thank you so much. This truly means so much to me. And my name is y/n.” You tell him in a hurry. You make sure your camera is on and ready before you look back up at him watching you intently.

“Y/n… that’s very pretty…Where’d you want me, honey?” He coos.

Your heart pounds in your ears and you can’t register anything he just said. All you can do is look at him in shock and can’t believe you’re alone with him. You know how many thousands of girls would kill for a moment like this? And the question he just asked?! Ooh, the sheer audaciousness he has. He knows he's irresistable.

I'd love you to cover me in kisses with those pillowy soft lips...

“Huh?” You say in a daze.

“Where did you wanna take my picture honey? You’re the photographer and all,” he teases. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks and you nervously look down at your camera.

“Oh yeah… sorry… I’ve never really done this,” you admit. His eyebrows shoot up surprised, “First time? Wow, that’s somethin’ for a little lady coming here and coverin’ a story on a day like this. The whole town is making a huge fuss over me, I don’t think deserve it, but it’s very special either way. I’ll make sure to give you the best pictures,” he winks. It feels like your heart just about stopped by that one minuscule movement.

Stop that. Stop that right now!

You sweetly smile up at him and move further into the room, trying to see what angle and lighting would be best. The wall behind him was blue and you thought that would be a perfect backdrop to accentuate the velvet shirt he was wearing and his piercing blue eyes.

“Umm, let’s try with you stand there. I think that would be a nice background,” you say.

He casually takes a few steps back and puts his hands in his pockets.

“Like this?” He asks. You raise the camera to your face, make sure the frame is straight, and push the button.

Click.

He looked good without even trying. He had this golden aura about him. Like he shined from within. He was remarkable and you know that without saying much else to him. Even if you didn’t like him already, you can see the appeal. He was so easy to love. So easy to be around. Everything about him was inviting and warm. You don’t know how you were going to peel yourself away from him…

“Okay, how about one smiling?” You ask. He nods his head and gives you this cute cheeky smile.

Click.

God help me I can’t breathe with this man around looking this good.

“How are they comin’ out honey?” He asks, his southern inflection on honey making you feel like the actual word.

“Oh, just fine. I think they’re going to be amazing when printed,” you try to say casually.

“Oh good… what are you doin’ working for the newspaper?” He asks, fixing the sides of his hair with a comb.

Click.

“I don’t work for the newspaper, not yet at least. I’m just an intern. I’m a student at the University of Mississippi studying journalism and thought it would help to work there for a bit so when I graduate in two years, I can hopefully get a job at a newspaper,” you explain.

He intently looks at you, interested in everything you have to say, “That’s wonderful honey. I think that’s great you’re pursuing that. I don’t doubt for a second you won’t get a job anywhere you apply for,” he says sweetly. You can’t help but blush at his nice words and fiddle with your camera.

“Thank you, Elvis,” you say quietly. He walks over to the sofa that’s up against the wall and casually takes a seat.

He stretches out one arm along the back of the couch and the other rests on the arm of it. His legs were spread open and your eyes can’t help but stare at them. They were so long and he exuded sensuality, it nearly made you dizzy. He sees how you’re looking at him, intrigued with the man that so many found attractive.

You raise the camera to your eye once again as he looks down the lens intensely.

Click.

You felt like screaming like those girls were earlier. You’ve never felt so attracted to someone’s presence. It kind of scared you in a way.

He moves on the sofa slightly, bringing his hand to his mouth and giving you this luring, sultry gaze.

Oh lord, I’m a dead woman…

Click.

He doesn’t change this pose after the flash goes off, he continues to sit there with his eyes drinking you in. Your body can’t take this, the tension in the room is palpable and you are seriously considering running out now since you have plenty of good shots. Elvis slowly starts to lower his hand from his mouth and you see he was biting his lip behind it this whole time. He slowly drags his teeth across it before letting it go with a pop.

“Anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are?” He asks softly.

You can’t hide your flushed cheeks anymore and lower the camera from your face to see if he’s being serious. His eyes look heavy and somber, but he cracks a little grin to lighten the mood.

“Oh, no… not something I normally hear,” you say insecurely.

“That’s a shame darlin’, you really are. You have the most gorgeous smile, beautiful eyes, and the longest legs I’ve ever seen,” he gushes.

I’m dead. I’ve gone to heaven and died. This can’t be happening!

“Well thank you very much. I could say the same for you,” you say coyly.

His eyebrows raise at the blunt remark and chuckles softly to himself. He lowers his hand off the back of the sofa and places it on the empty space beside him, looking at it, then looking back up at you. He doesn’t need to say another word, he pulls you in without trying.

You carefully place your camera on the table and take your bag off your shoulder. You make your way to sit beside him as your heart gallops like a racing horse.

He turns his body a bit to face you more and being this close to him is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You have to hold your breath or he might notice how nervous you are.

“No guy back home telling’ you how pretty you are hmm?” He says, tucking back stands of hair behind your ear. All you can do is shake your head no. His fingertips barely graze the lobe of your ear but it makes you feel weak anyway. The arousal dripping from your core is not helping the situation and not letting you think clearly.

“Oh, well I’m sorry men are so blind over there. I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he quips, giving you a cheeky smile. “The most pretty eyes, the most pretty nose, the most pretty pink lips I’ve ever seen,” he coos, leaning in closer until you can feel his breath on your lips.

You can’t take it anymore and lean in, devouring his lips with yours. You let out a deep breath as your mouth touched his, his lips feeling softer than you could have ever possibly imagined. He was so gentle with his kiss, making sure he wasn’t overstepping your boundaries. But you didn’t care about that. You screamed for more from him. More kisses, more long heated stares, more everything.

You boldly, place your hand on his bicep, pulling yourself closer to him. He responds to your touch and you can tell he likes it. His crushed velvet shirt felt nice underneath your fingertips and felt his toned arms. He places his hand on your cheek, pulling you in with more urgency. You feel breathless, loving the way his skin makes yours feel like it’s on fire.

Elvis softly pulls away, not before biting your bottom lip and letting a sigh slip out of his mouth.

“Those lips darlin’, I could kiss them all day,” he mutters, his eyes heavy with lust.

“What’s stopping you?” You whimper. He grins and pulls you in once more.

You can’t believe any of this is real. The way he is kissing you should not feel so good and yet it does. You put both of your hands on his chest, pulling him closer to you by the collar of his shirt. His hands start to roam along your back, feeling the curve of it and how well this dress fits you. Every inch of you wants his hands placed lower. Right at the spot that is yearning for friction from those perfect hands.

He starts to drag one of his hands to your hip, squeezing there then down the top of your thigh. Need coursed through you and you couldn’t help but open your legs a tad bit. You’re not sure if he noticed, but he let out a pleased hum as he kissed you with more intensity.

You needed to feel him. You needed to feel how soft his skin would be when it’s pressed against yours. Your hand sneaks into his shirt and feel the coarse little chest hairs he had there. You were right, his skin felt perfect and it only made you crave more. You snake your hand lower and onto the top of his thigh. You make the same movements he’s doing to you and you feel his body melt at your touch.

You move your hand a bit lower and go to caress the inside part of his thigh and you freeze.

“Oh…” you moan into his mouth.

What you felt underneath your fingertips made you cry in need of him. Dear God, he was blessed in more ways than one. He was so much longer than you expected and it made your heart leap out of your chest. His cock was warm and fully hard in his pants as your fingertips slowly start to rub against him. You pull away from his lips and have to look at what your hand is feeling.

You were going to die and see the pearly gates if you tried to have that inside of you. But God you didn’t care, you wanted him so bad. You’ve never wanted a man like this in your entire life. Looking up at Elvis, he looks calm and collected, still giving you a heated stare. He looks down at your hand, then back up to you with an innocent look about him.

“You like what you feel baby?” He asks low. You take a deep breath before answering him.

“Y-yes. Yes, I do…” you say softly, your hand moving along him more. He lets out a pleased groan and adjusts his hips slightly, liking the feeling of your touch on him.

“Do you want more? Do you want to feel what it’s like inside of you?” He coos, leaning in for a soft kiss that leaves you dizzy. Your breathing felt erratic and the ache you had in your core only worsened.

“Yes please Elvis… please,” you beg. He smirks at you and kisses your neck, sending a shock of electricity through you.

“Can I see what you’re wearin’ underneath this pretty dress honey?” He asks you. You nod your head and his fingers find the zipper of your dress easily. He slowly pulls it down and pulls down the fabric off the front of your body. You help him slip you out of your dress and sit there with your white bra and panties left on. He lets out a pleased little groan as he sees you sitting there, trembling with need. He gently touches your exposed skin, leaving little goosebumps behind. He touches your breasts gently, biting his lip as both of his hands cup them and start to play with your nipples through the fabric of your bra. You can’t help but lean into his touch loving every second of this.

He places a soft kiss on top of your breast as he reaches around and unclips your bra. He quickly puts one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it, groaning as he does so. Your back arches into his mouth, craving so much more from him. His other hand roams your body but only focuses on the top half of you. Your core was dripping with arousal and aching to be touched by those long fingers. You guide one hand between your legs and have him put pressure there.

You gasp instantly, his touch feeling better than you could have imagined but also realize you’ve soaked through your panties. He takes his mouth off of you and pulls away to look down at his hand.

“Fuck honey, how long have you been soaked like this?” He grumbles, his two fingers sliding up and down through your covered folds and creating the most delicious friction.

“Since I saw you moving on that stage,” you admit weakly.

He chuckles softly, “Oh honey, why didn’t you tell me sooner… this pussy just weepin’ for me?” He asks as his fingers slide the elastic of your panties to the side and expose your leaking core to him.

“Yes,” you moan. He nods his head and slowly pushes a finger inside of you. You both groan together, filling you so nicely. Your hips rock into his hand, needing everything he can give you.

You throw your head back as he adds another finger inside of you.

“Elvis,” you moan, your chest heaving for more. He watches you intently, liking how on edge you are for him. His fingers twist and curl inside of you and you gasp for air. He likes what he’s doing and can’t get enough got you either.

“You feel so nice and wet baby. Can I give you my cock now?” He asks.

“Please, I want you Elvis, please give it to me,” you beg, reaching for his belt and unfastening it. He pulls down your panties and you lift your hips to help him get them off. You then work on the button of his pants and slide down the zipper. He lifts his hips up too to take them off and you watch as his cock comes out. Oh God, you were weak by just looking at it. His pink tip was peeking out from his foreskin and clear precum started to dribble down his length. His hand wraps around his length and spreads some of that slickness around the tip of him, moving his hand up and down slowly. You look back into his intense eyes and don’t know what to say.

“You want to ride me, honey?” He asks. The look on your face must have shown the apprehension you had thinking about taking him like that. He rubs his thumb along your cheek and smirks at you.

“It’ll feel so good baby. You’re so wet for me, you’re going to cover my cock in your sweet honey and make us feel so good,” he groans as you watch him swirl his thumb around the tip of his cock. A pent-up moan escapes your lips and quickly straddle his hips, needing him more than ever.

He rubs his length through your folds, covering him in your arousal and making you both moan with the sensation. You hold onto his shoulders and press kisses to his cheek. You feel him line himself up to your entrance and hold your hips. Elvis looks up at you with need and his eyes are begging you to have him. You felt the heat of him pressed there against your entrance and you can’t wait any longer. You start to sink down on his impressive length, moaning as you take the first few inches. He felt so good, filling you so completely and stretching out your tight entrance. He throws his head back onto the couch and groans as you take him, squeezing your hips tightly.

The sounds he makes when he’s getting pleased goes straight to your head. You love the way he groans as you move slowly on him. You never knew you could be so attracted to the sound of a man getting pleased. You take more of him inside you and cry out his name, overwhelmed it can be feeling this good.

“You feel so good, honey. You like how my cock feels inside you?” He groans into your ear. You gasp as his hips move up into you, stuffing more of his length inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you cry out.

You move faster on him, wanting more of him and feeling your walls fluttering each second. His eyes watch how your breasts bounce as you’re riding him, drunk at the very sight of you. You close your eyes, overwhelmed with all the sensations he’s giving you and those eyes only make it worse and worse.

Your hips grind at the base of his cock and you both whimper. Your clit rubs at the base of him and you feel your walls start to clench around him. You ride him harder, chasing the high of your orgasm. You look back into his eyes, desperate for him to help you.

“E-Elvis… oh please,” you beg.

“Come darlin’, I wanna feel you come for me,” he groans as he snaps his hips into you, causing his cock to get deeper inside you.

You whimper in agony, not being able to hold on much longer. His hands are back on your hips and help you move more. Your breathing is ragged and your vision is blurry, you thrust a few more times on him and you feel your body shudder hard. Your walls squeeze around his length and cry out his name like he’s your saving grace. He groans with you, loving how good you feel around him. He helps you rock your hips into him more, making you come more than you ever have in your life. Your head feels dizzy and your body feels like it’s floating. You never knew a man could make you feel this good.

You keep riding him and don’t want to stop. He was still making these sinful sounds that sent a pulse straight to your pussy as you hear him getting pleased by you. He bites his lower lip as he stares at you, beaded sweat gathering at his temples and his breathing becoming more frantic.

“Ah, honey you feel so damn good. I need to come now,” he says gruffly. He picks you up off of him and has you stand in between his open legs. He grabs his cock in his hand once more and starts to jerk himself off, staring at you with need. You wanted to touch him again, feel the warmth of his length fill your hand. You boldly get on your knees and take his hand off of himself. You wrap your small hand around him and his eyes roll back in his head. Your wetness covered his length and made it easy to move your hand on him. You angle his length toward your chest and he bucks his forward and falls apart. His seed comes out in thick, hot, spurts and lands on your chest. He groans loudly and cusses under his breath with each stroke of your hand.

“Oh yes honey, yes,” he moans.

He’s trying to calm down and regain his normal breathing but your thumb continues to tease his extra sensitive head. He groans in agony, loving and hating how you’re playing with him.

“God honey I-I-I ain’t never felt so good,” he sighs. “Come here,” he says opening his arms to you.

You get up and sit on his thigh, your spilling arousal making a mess on him. You wince when you feel the wetness spread on him and look up at him with an innocent smile.

“Sucha messy lil’ girl hmm?” He teases.

“Mhmm, you’re quite messy too,” you quip, looking down at your chest with him covering it.

He laughs amused, “Well, you felt too good what can I say,” he says cutely, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I had to say thank you in some way for letting me take some pictures of you,” you say shyly.

“Oh, you didn’t need to, but I’m so thankful you did,” he winks.

You kiss each other more, reveling in this moment together, not wanting it to end so soon. But you knew he had other places to be, you couldn’t keep him in here forever.

“I don’t want to keep you from your day. The whole town is so happy you’re here,” you smile.

“Thanks, honey. It’s nice to be celebrated in sucha nice way,” he says caressing your face, “but this might have been my favorite thing I got today.” He says cutely.

“And what’s that?” You ask smartly.

“You, my new favorite reporter.”

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler

@neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @loving-elvis @theresalwaysep

@prompted-wordsmith@sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog.@myradiaz@tacozebra051

@thatbanditqueen

@18|kpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873

@austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis

@everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy

@elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony

@generoustreemystic @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121

@jaqueline19997

@returntopresley. @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8

@arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut @epthedream69

@mh777ep1938 @50sexyshadesfashionista

@oldhOllywOod @hooked-on-elvis @livelovedilfs

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis x you #elvis x y/n #elvis x reader #50s elvis #elvisaaronpresley #elvis imagine #elvis fic #elvis fluff

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alldoll3dup · 4 months

Note

Yelloooooooo!!!!!! I got a request. Can you write a brozone x pop/rap troll fem reader?? Where there related to the bros? I honestly can't think of anything else, but ik for sure theres gotta be crazy angst and comfort!!!

P.S. LOVE YOUR STORIES

▐ Do you mean all of them together or the separate reaction of each of them? I'm going to do it all together as a one shot kisses 🫶🏻 (but if not, you can make another request)

P.S THANK YOU SO MUCH

໑୧﹒★﹒Brozone x pop/rap!Reader - Headcanon's/one-shot ᰍ﹒∿

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - You are a pop and rap troll, you were already considered part of the family by brozone what would be their reaction? Lets see right now

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 - Trolls band togeter

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - GN!Reader, angsty, platonic

★ When you told them...

– You were really nervous about telling them this, but Poppy and Viva were encouraging you

– Ok you were freaking out, Poppy and Viva got them together and said you had something to say, what were they thinking??? You wanted to stick your face in a hole and never come out

– The two left leaving you there with the confused brothers, you took a deep breath and started telling them

"Okay then well, I wanted to tell you this, because you are like brothers to me and I think you will support me in this"

– John Dory has already started to panic, she has already started to imagine a million things

💭 "IS SHE DATING? DOES SHE NO LONGER TRUST US? DOES SHE WANT TO MOVE AWAY???"

"Well, I'm a pop and rap troll" - you said looking a little embarrassed and JD's jaw dropped to the floor

"Ah, what a silly thing, y/n, everything is fine" - said branch carelessly with a hand on your shoulder (I didn't know what color to put on him, srry)

"SILLY?? NO ITS NOT SILLY HOW CAN YOU BE BOTH? IS THIS POSSIBLE?" - JD didn't understand anything

"Calm down, John Dory, this is normal, I, for example, am a pop and rock troll" - Floyd said, smiling slightly and you were a little sad about JD's reaction (I have a hc that he is a rock troll)

"WHAT YOU ARE A ROCK TROLL???" - He said turning his head to Floyd

"Hey man, relax, this is more common than you think" - Clay said looking angry at JD because he noticed your sad reaction

"My kids sing all kinds of music all the time" - Spruce said with a nasal laugh

"John Dory, you're making Y/N uncomfortable stop it" - he said quietly to John Dory with a sideways glance

"Okay, it doesn't enter my head either you're a rap troll or you're a pop troll, or you're a rock trolls or you're a pop troll"

"Why not both JD?" - you and Floyd said at the same time

"Because it's confusing and strange, it doesn't make sense to be both"

"Okay, that's enough of trying to change other people, John Dory" - Clay said, already irritated

"Clay just relax, okay? It dont make the argument worse"

"But he's right, John Dory is crossing the line!" - and you remained silent watching them argue and left with Floyd

★ When you went out with Floyd...

– He comforted you even though he was also sad about the situation

"Hey, it's okay, don't mind Dory, he'll understand soon"

"But why fight like that? They can't argue without fighting..."

"I know Y/n... it's okay" - he hugged you gently and you hugged him back

– You stayed there until the branch appeared because he got angry about arguing with John Dory

★ A few days later...

– You hadn't spoken to John Dory for a few days and she was really sad about the way he treated you

– He studied a lot about this being more than one thing and thought it was really cool

– He felt horrible about the way he treated you and asked Spruce and Clay for help on how to apologize to you

– Clay didn't want to help at first, but Spruce convinced him to help

– Of course, Floyd and Branch joined in on this, Branch would distract you along with Floyd, Clay and Spruce taught John Dory how to say sorry (which was an almost impossible mission)

– They prepared a "little party" with a huge sign saying "WE ACCEPT YOU Y/N AND FLOYD"

– When you got there JD practically jumped on you crying and apologizing saying how proud he was of you (he had done this to Floyd before the party)

– You ended up getting emotional and forgave him and promised that you would teach him more about being a troll with two musical genres

▐ That was hard to write, huh? Hope yall liked it

▐ Sorry if there are any grammatical errors love you guys ♡

★ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ★

- Read this before making a request

#trolls band together #trolls #oneshot #headcanon #trolls headcanons #trolls branch #trolls x reader #floyd trolls #trolls john dory #trolls clay #trolls spruce #i love this little guys #gn reader

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fruitsofhell · 6 months

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Yall, its time to ramble about visual/environmental storytelling cause this is silly article is driving me insane.

I won't argue for if the game should have had more constant and involved cutscenes like Robobot or Star Allies, but what I will say is that this game is VERY rich in story through the world design. The Forgotten Land as opposed to say the Land of the Sky in TD or the entire galaxy of Star Allies is like, DROWNING in writing and narrative. It builds so much mystery and intrigue through the theming of every world and even individual levels, with exploring both how the people of the land originally lived and how it's being reclaimed by nature and the animals.

I think the closest things maybe is Robobot and Halcandra in RTDL, the former having great little designs that key you into WHAT Haltmann is doing and what makes it so toxic. Halcandra though is the ultimate grand-daddy, the contrast between it and the Lor, and Egg Engines and Dangerous Dinner is full of theming and clues about the nature and history of the planet. AND THAT IS STORY, THAT IS WRITING! Especially when compared to say Star Allies, where most of the levels of the levels are just ye average Kirby themed fluff with little to say about the Jamba or the state they've left the galaxy in. But when you play through the casino levels of Robobot, as well as delightful theming and level design, you see that Haltmann is erecting literally the most predatory entertainment centers imaginable. When you step off the sleek futuristic Lor into the scrapyards and wastes of Halcandra, you get fun intimidating final worlds, and a good grasp on *why* the people who made the Lor aren't around anymore, and may even start questioning why Magolor made such a great fuss of dragging you to this horrible place. Music is also deeply important to this storytelling. Each of the factories/towers erected in ever world of Robobot's theme is a remix usually of themes related to older mechanical levels, subtly clueing you into where Haltmann go their technology from. Outside the Lor rather than the comfortable motif of Green Greens is this almost comically suspicious and disoriented theme once you're stuck on Halcandra and returning to Magolor with more doubts about his words. The final level inside of the volcano house a theme that is teasing the twist to come, and the theme for fighting Landia before the big reveal is less triumphant, and more majestic and pensive. Possibly trying to evoke more hesitance than confidence, even if most people wouldn't catch on to that on a first run.

But the cooler thing, is that while Robobot has this cool theming at key levels, and RtDL does at the end, this type of shit is pervasive ALL throughout Forgotten Land. Every world and nearly every level is a unique, well thought-out set piece! You get to see abandoned towns, cities, malls, stores, factories, resorts, and an amusement park, each which serves as more than just a fun location, but a clear picture of the world and the state its in. This intent is made clearer through the music and tone that goes out of its way to not highlight the destruction of these areas but their beauty, wonder, and mystery through the eyes of an clueless animals and our favorite pink alien. The abandoned Alivel Malls theme is a track as upbeat and peppy as what must've played over it's speakers in it's hayday, because the hustle and bustle breathed back into it by the animals and Kirby just exploring this mysterious complex is just as lively. The theme of the Everbay Coast is peaceful and sunny despite the Holine ruins because it's as part of the scenery to the animals and Kirby as the picturesque palms and sands. And Wondaria!!!!!!!!! OMG WONDARIA WHERE TO EVEN BEGIN WITH EVERY FUCKING LEVEL AND THEME IN WONDARIA!!! THIS IS WHY I CAN'T TAKE THAT CLAIM SERIOUSLY - y'know when I cried at Forgotten Land? In world 3. Not because of a cutscene or a line of dialogue, but just from the sheer emotion the setting evoked in me. The sweet, laid-back, starry-eyed wonder that it expressed from Kirby mixed with my own sense of nostalgia being aware of what that place was, and how beautiful it was to see it rediscovered and adored by Kirby and the animals of the Forgotten Land. It evokes such a strong feeling of bittersweetness, of existential dread comforted by the knowledge that the simple joys and memories we create places like amusement parks to share will continue on as long as there is life in the world. And unlike some of my musings about past games, this was explicitly intentional. What truly brought the tears to my eyes was remembering an interview where the devs were explaining how they were trying to keep the tone light and Kumazaki said specifically they wanted to evoke peace and beauty rather than loss.

LIKE THIS IS WRITING! This is storytelling, this is intention. It's just subtle, but not at all unimportant, and it ties into the more overarching plot. It raises the question constantly of where the people went that is answered by Forgo, and expresses the dichotomy between the simple innocence of the animals compared to the ambitions of the people who abandoned them and that is now possessing their leader. It creates stakes for Elfilis and Forgo's intentions to destroy everything so beautiful and pure about the current world, but as it absolves the current world of guilt, it puts into perspective JUST HOW LONG Forgo must have been locked away that things changed so much. And as softly as the exploits of the original people are portrayed by the game, knowing their treatment of Eliflis and Forgo as a thing of entertainment and tool for innovation is sickening placed in contrast with it. Like back to Wondaria, the way it shows how much space travel must have pervaded the imagination and escapism of the people either before or after Forgo's arrival is insanely smart. And it gives me chills in the best way seeing Kirby run around images of cartoon aliens from a civilization who would never meet him. Of Kirby, Elfilin, and Bandana sticking their head into a cardboard cutout of an astronaut meeting an alien, with the text "wish you were here" above in a script they don't even understand. A SCRIPT THE WRITERS MADE FOR THIS GAME SO THAT THEY COULD ADD MESSAGES LIKE THAT INTO THE WORLD FOR KEEN PLAYERS TO NOTICE AND MAKE CONNECTIONS. Like it's insane. The dedication the Hal Labs has to stuff like this is maddening! It's so sweet and heartfelt and crafty, I'm so pissed off how little respect it gets because people don't understand visual storytelling!!!!! Saying Forgotten Land is light on story is preposterous, it might just be one of the most finely crafted stories the series has had to date, and is just a really solid piece of science fantasy writing in general honestly. It is packed with environmental storytelling that drives me Up The Fucking Wall, Man.

#kirby #kirby and the forgotten land #katfl #elfilis #forgo #kirby lore #shut the heck up #media analysis #GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH (i love kirby)#im in my “writing is more than text” essay warrior era #this is part of me collecting stuff for a bigger essay though :3c i just got so distracted by this take #also i started this cause i though this article was from a bigger outlet than it was #so now i feel like my intensity is unjustified but idrc cause as i said: warrior essay era #OO ALSO I MISSED TALKING ABOUT THE LATER WORLDS #THE CITY IN WINTER HORNS FEELS LIKE A BIOME THE DELAPADATED RESORTS OF WASTES ARE NOW OASES IN A DRIED UP TROPICS-#-AND THE FUCKING CITYSCAPE OF REDGAR FLOODED WITH LAVA IS LIKE ITS OWN PART OF THE MOUNTAIN ITS SO BEAUTIFUL #its a fun twist on the typical final lava world that also gets to do double duty with evil industrial looking shit ARGFDSH so cool #tag talking

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beesmygod · 25 days

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today is webcomics day. i am bea and i make "A Ghost Story" - part 1: pre-gaming

webcomic day is a yearly celebration of the art form concocted by the screentones podcast team as a way for people to see how the sausage gets made. my webcomic "a ghost story" has been running for over 10 years, and yet i still don't think i can say i am good at making a webcomic. regardless, the comic is getting made because otherwise i become very, very sick in the head. today i would like to share with you the process of making a page of "A Ghost Story" from start to finish. either this demystifies the process or will make you think im so cool and strong for doing this 2x a week. instead of reblogging this one post until it gets very long, i will be posting individual updates that i will then compile and post on my personal website. block the tags now if you HATE comics and want them to EXPLODE.

if you have any questions, even things like "what the fuck are you even talking about" feel free to ask. i want to feel confident in what i make again and i think sometimes interrogation from an outside source is really

---

that said, let's get started. wait just kidding i want a cup of coffee first, hold on.

ok now im ready. i have a big glass of water. i have coffee. i have a headset for the parts of work that don't involve typing words. i can't type words and listen to some streamer babble in my ear at the same time, so it has to be instrumental music or nothing. i just took my meds so they should kick in after about 30 mins. i woke up late today, which is weird and annoying. but maybe i can work late instead.

first off, i need to know where i'm going beyond this one page. if i dont know where im going with something, then i usually create something that sucks that i have to deal with later. hold on my internet died, i have to reset the router. ok, anyway.

what's rattling around in my brain is that not only do i have to deal with maxine's current predicament, i am also dealing with multiple plot elements i need to wrap back around to from the previous chapter. luckily, im about to put maxine down for a nap, which means i can get back to those other elements:

i need to finish the exposition from the three ankou characters for this story arc establishing their motivations as the oppositional force in the story. the "villain" is not these three specifically, but their boss. they need to have a loose understanding of what's going on in order to communicate this to the audience. god this started turning into a huge ass paragraph so i'll just keep it short there.

we've jumped back to before jack's horrible day from the first chapter of this storyline so we have to make our way back toward that and then lapping it, which means wrapping up his various open threads like:

feeding victoria and learning something new about her

finding out alice is a very exceptional employee who is getting many awards

watching valdo call lily while interrupting her during something personal to ask her for help with maxine's situation.

jack meeting with valdo and lily the day after they first met so jack can just tell them straight up that lily has 4 sisters she doesnt know about.

help that girl with her poltergeist problem. remember that. i've had jokes for this rattling in my head for like 4 years. im going insane.

and also the fucking tilberi!!! that has a point its going somewhere!!! there's a larger menace here!!!

other things to set up the climax of this storyline. sexual tensions, hints at larger emotional problems not immediately evident to the reader

lots of moving parts. and i feel like im moving in slow motion to get to them. i can see them all weaving together in my head, its the process of putting that onto paper that's proving difficult.

ok that took an hour starting and stopping. -_- let me write the next part as i keep brainstorming on how to approach this page. taking a "rubber duck" approach to this might help. heres an image from the last page i worked on (i have a 5 page buffer rn so the site does not match the finished pages) to get us semi-situated.

also because images will help people understand what skill level we're working with here. i need to be able to communicate an idea to the audience; if the art also looks good on top of that, then that's just an added bonus. but the ability to communicate my ideas is sometimes hampered by my lack of artistic skill or comics language ineptitude. like those speech bubbles kind of fucking suck but at a certain point you have to just hit print on what you're working on in order to keep your already glacial pace.

webcomics is a tightrope act where you're also spinning 4 plates at once. the trick is to keep the audience from realizing how many actually fall or how wobbly they all are. the act sucks but technically its not a failure.

#a ghost story #webcomics #webcomic #webcomic day

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milgram-tournament · 4 months

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MILGRAM Best Song Tournament, Round 2, Match 3 MAGIC vs. MEME

Propaganda for both options under the cut!

Propaganda for MAGIC:

MAGIC MY BELOVED MAGIC!!! Its one of the best MVs in the entire series, even including T2. Magic is visually stunning and has some fantastic art direction but also is very clever in how it conveys its themes and ideas. Magic doesn't really hide anything from you, not really. It's all symbolic but it Tells You Things. It shows you the abuse, it shows you the cat. There's a fun little relationship going on here where, In Magic. Amane's pain and suffering isn't taken seriously by the people around her and the Audience we are discouraged to take it at face value due to the fictionalized nature of Magic. It's so cool. I'm so fond of the song as well, it's one of the best in the series purely cause of the Layers in it. The implications of this Inability to be good is seeped into Magic. Amane knows this isn't reality, Magic knows it's a show, she watches it at the end. And it's so Sad to me that even in her fictionalized happy world she Cannot be a good girl. It's a standard completely out of reach for her and that idea is just conveyed so well visually.

Im not even talking about the goddamn cat yet- the cat symbolism goes Deep. That cat is HER it has the same wounds Amane has in Purge March. I- I cant talk about the intertextuality of Purge March and Magic here this is Magic propaganda only- I- there's so much good stuff to Magic. I Re watched it over and over again. It has some the Best Writing and Visual Communication in Milgram and I will Die on this Hill.

---

shoutout to magic for having pretty props AND being vague as fuck about the crime! diversity win!

seriously though amane looks SO cute in it! the mv has such a pretty and colorful style and even with that it's able to show the horrors of what amane went through.

adding onto my last point. that scene where the cat is hyperventilating and you see the camera shaking???? that scene where the mascots find amane helping the cat and they're all standing over her? CHILLS. im repeating myself but the fact that they were able to portray the awful things amane went through in a genuinely emotional way while still keeping the cute cartoon look is soo impressive

there are SO many layers to itill the entire cartoony style making it look like a tv show… utilizing the cartoony effects and bright colors to show amane downplaying her own pain… the transformation after she gets punished barely changing anything to show just how manipulated she was from the start… ueueueue

ALSO ALSO ALSO THE SCENE AT THE END WITH AMANE STARING AT THE SCENE? OHHH ITS SO GOOD it adds such a feeling of dread and reminds you on top of this whole thing that all of this is truly horrifying! something is going on here!

this song is so catchy it gets stuck in my head CONSTANTLY

"Dear wise one, Am I worthy? Is it ok to spoil myself?" AMANE... UEUEUUEUE

the little ding sound effects in the instrumental?????

amanes voice is ADORABLE

THE INSTRUMENTAL IN THAT PART WHERE SHES HELPING THE CAT HAS THAT GODLY TYPE SOUND YOUD TYPICALLY ASSOCIATE WITH CHURCHES AND STUFF AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN IT PROPERLY BUT JUST RELISTEN TO IT AND YOU WILL KNOW WHAT I MEAN. ITS SUCH A NEAT DETAIL

i could go on about this mv for days but i am not a theorist unfortunately. just. magic sweep

Propaganda for MEME:

"MeMe is fantastic because it plays off the audience’s assumptions about Mikoto as a character and tells a “double story”. There’s layers to it and it’s deliberately deceptive in the way it presents the events out of order. Even the instrumentals themselves tell a story. The shift from piano in the second chorus climax is so good - and the way they combine in the last chorus, plus the addition of a violin culminates the song perfectly."

---

"For propaganda: I love meme so much because even the music alone tells as whole story. It goes from heavy metal to calm to heavy metal to calm and that happens a few times and then there’s an epic and creepy intermission with an amazing guitar and a scary of sound of Mikoto’s heavy breathing. And then the psychedelic music and BAM the final chorus. The final chorus of meme just gives me the absolute chills. Like it’s the calmer chorus we see earlier but with epic symphonic metal and an amazing build up and climax like it’s perfectly encapsulates a story through music alone I just love it so much. Also it’s literally called meme lmao."

---

"I could go on about the motifs in MeMe - like identity loss, living and dying, dreaming etc. It's a song, more than with any other character, about the inner self and what hides from the surface. Of the fear that comes with one's identity and place in the world being challenged and crumbling. The intricate designs on the tarot cards have so much depth to them"

#milgramtournament #milgram #amane momose #momose amane #mikoto kayano #kayano mikoto

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

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hiya! so I was thinking about Peter Quill with an artistic reader (in the form of headcanons) bc omg i think that'd be absolutely adorable and ive been going in a spiral for him lately

Just a thought! You dont need to do it if youre busy, have a great week!

hii! omg yes I love it. and don’t worry me you and everyone else feels the same way😭 ive been defending him in comment sections for years so im glad he’s finally getting recognition he deserves. big up quill. I also did this first, as it was a fun sorta break in between other writing. thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌 have a great weekend also. xo

headcanons/ imagines (2)

Peter Quill x reader (gn)

warnings || none

masterlist + rules

taglist

- he doesn’t always have the best attention span, but when it comes to you he could watch you paint/ draw for hours. it’s something that keeps him entertained

- he likes to ask questions/ communicate while you work “that’s cool, what does that do?” or “how did you do that?” feel like he’d be mesmerised watching the canvas come to life

- you both listen to his music while you do anything artsy, the combination is the best of both worlds

- but if he’s not watching you/ hanging around at the same time, you like to listen to his music so it feels like he’s still there. he’s silently caught you a few times and it makes him feel special that his music means so much to you

- he definitely brags to the other guardians about how talented you are (like tony and thor talking about their girls in age of ultron)

- I feel like he can be a great helper- if you’re at the easel, he stands next to you holding the things you need so you don’t have to keep bending/ reaching etc. or if you need a brush cleaned, he’d do it for you

- if you wanted to do pottery, he’d get rocket to make you a pottery wheel, whatever you needed, rocket will make

- if you live with him in his apartment on knowhere, he’s moved his things about so that you could paint by the window/ designated a space/ area for you to work at (he remembers watching bob ross a couple times when he was a kid, so he used the tips he learned and put them into practice for you)

- if and when he sees any kind of art materials on other planets, he definitely brings them back for you. over a while you’ve acquired quite a diverse set of tools that’s broadened the quality of your art

- I feel like he’d kind of pimp you out- would put your name out there to get more people to commission work from you

- you’re now the go-to that people come to when they want new things for their houses. a majority of people on knowhere have probably bought work from you

- you’ve made pieces for every guardian, something specific and detailed that has meaning to each individual (kind of like the holiday special) you’d be very creative and intricate in tailoring the work to the person

- mantis absolutely adores what you made. nebula was apprehensive at first but you caught her smiling when she thought you weren’t paying attention. drax goes into great detail when he describes what he loves about it, always using crazy big adjectives. rocket said he doesn’t care for art, but the way it’s displayed in his apartment tells you otherwise. and groot was super happy to have something made by you

- quill has treasured everything you’ve ever made him, he can be very sentimental so all the work you made is something he deeply appreciates. something minuscule you made at the beginning of the relationship, is kept in one of his memory boxes (like a flower made of tissue)

- maybe you’ve made things to honour his parents, using stories he’s told you into creating something beautiful (two separate pieces- one of meredith and one of yondu) they are something he has hung up and displayed in his apartment. I feel like it’s helped him deal with his grief- and over time he’s been able to look at the artwork without feeling sad. now he can smile when he sees their faces

- its definitely made him fall harder for you

#peter quill #peter quill headcanon #peter quill x reader #peter quill x fem!reader #peter quill x you #peter quill x gn reader #peter quill imagine #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill x female reader #peter quill fanfic #peter quill imagines #gotg #guardians of the galaxy

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that-ari-blogger · 22 days

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"Eda, do you have kids?" (Eda's Requiem)

The Owl House is a series about identity and the freedom to express oneself the way they wish. It explores the ways in which that affects relationships with others and oneself. Self-image, mental health, love, all fall under this bracket. This is partly why I would refer to The Owl House as a queer story rather than just a story with a queer protagonist. It engages with the concept in a nuanced way that I think is interesting.

The Owl House is also about family. The theme was present at the beginning, but it was very much a background thought. However, season two examined this idea in a ton more detail, through the Golden Guard, through Amity, and even through the side characters.

But the single best part of The Owl House is its ability to weave themes together. Family and identity are parts of each other. A family is a group of people with a shared identity, and a persons sense of self is usually defined by their experiences with their family. That is why found family is a part of family, it’s not about blood, it’s about connection.

This duality is directly the cause of my two favourite episodes in the show, Reaching Out, and Eda’s Requiem, the latter of which deals with a crisis of identity and a juxtaposition of past and future.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD (The Owl House)

How does Eda define herself?

That is a question that grows more complicated over time. She is the Owl Lady, the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles, which is a neat thing have while it remains true. However, she stops being that at the end of season one, and still clings to the moniker, why?

“How did you become the Owl Lady with your stage fright?”

It’s a persona, an act that she puts on to impress everyone, including herself. It is an identity that she wears like a mask, and who would know more about wearing masks than Raine Whispers.

I’m going to take a brief moment to talk about my favourite little detail in the series, and I give all credit to @Idlescreee’s video, Names in The Owl House: Breakdown and Analysis, which pointed this out to me.

I am one of those people for whom silence makes my skin crawl, and so I like to put on music or white noise while I work. One of my go to sounds is that of rain, I am literally listening to it as I write this post.

So Raine Whispers is a quiet name about the beauty of nature and the quietness of a natural sound. Perfect for a bard, right?

Well, not exactly. Context gives meaning more than anything else, and Raine’s context is the Boiling Isles, in which the rain is acid, making a hissing sound as it destroys everything in its path. Raine Whispers is a name that refers to the fury of nature. It is quaint at first glance but could destroy you if given the chance. A fitting name for a spy.

In any case, the purpose of Raine in this episode is to provide a contrast to Eda, they are someone from their past who has changed a lot since the two last met. Raine is unconditionally the wisest character in the series, and their ability to read people is unrivalled. So, they can see through any illusion she throws up.

They are also the first named non-binary character in the series, and it is a neat piece of storytelling that a character who’s sense of identity involves not being confined by binary gender would be against a villain who runs on categorising people. It’s not dwelled on, which is a strength of the show’s normalisation, but it’s cool, none the less.

The mirroring of Eda means that the audience can notice the two’s similarities more easily. Most importantly, Eda has also changed, although not as much as she thinks.

I am going to bring back the concept of a lowest common denominator style of character analysis. Essentially, a character can be boiled down to a single concept that cannot be changed for the character to stay the same person. The character can switch up their entire identity, allegiance, or even body in some cases, but it is this attribute that keeps them recognisable.

For example, Hunter is brave. He switches up characterisation almost entirely over the series, going from the Golden Guard to the most precious boi over the course of two seasons, but he keeps the fact that he is, at all times, bone numbingly terrified, and still able to persevere. Hunter is brave.

Eda, meanwhile, is complicated. She is an agent of chaos, but she brings stability to the lives of everyone she is close to. She is against authority, but that is an allegiance rather than a descriptor. So, with the full understanding that this is inaccurate, I will say that Eda is free.

Again, this is inaccurate, and oversimplifying, but it’s the best I can come up with. Eda is unabashedly herself, and the primary conflict of this episode is trying to work out who that is. So… Eda is Eda? That’s unhelpful but hold onto it for a moment.

The episode itself follows an opportunity to live the good old life with an old friend, and Eda jumps on it. She is growing distant from Luz and King, and she doesn’t quite understand why this upsets her as much as it does. She has become a parent without even realising it.

So, she takes the chance to go with Raine, chasing the high of connection and creating the persona of Mama Eda, although that is where the analysis gets weird.

Maternal and paternal behaviours are different across cultures, but they are usually not specifically necessarily reliant on gender. Yes, they are linked by association (it’s part of the words), but it’s not intrinsic.

Case and point, in the culture that I read this story from, Eda is absolutely terrible at being maternal. So she doesn’t try to be, instead, she fills a ton of paternal roles in the lives of those around her. But it’s also inaccurate to read her as entirely paternal. Instead, she fits both roles, leaning further into one, but not entirely.

Essentially, Eda parents in her own way, and struggles when trying to live up to “the right method” of doing things. Eda is Eda. She excels at doing her own thing. Trying to define her as one archetype is reductive and misses the nuance of her character.

What I think is really interesting, is that Eda realises she has become a parent when the story essentially threatens to take her family away, and she is surprised by how she feels.

While I have my opinions on the fake out, it is an effective way to see what the fear of loss does to a person, or rather, the fear of unimportance.

Being a parent is about guiding your children, but its also about letting go. Eventually, every bird will eventually leave the nest. However, that doesn’t mean the relationship is over. People still need guidance, even as adults.

Eda is willing to throw her life away as a last-ditch effort to help her family without having to say goodbye. She doesn’t think they need her anymore, so she is willing to go out with a bang. But she is wrong.

Eda clings to the instrument, even as it kills her. She thinks that love means dying for the people she cares about, but that's not entirely true. You have to live for them as well. I wonder who else in the series could learn that lesson.

A rhapsody is a musical piece associated with strong, enthusiastic emotions. A requiem is about remembrance. Raine’s song is about hope, and the joy of a future yet to be. Eda’s is about a past well lived, and the memory of that love. If you put the two together, you get a song that can bring down a mountain.

“Eda, do you have kids?” “Uh, they're not mine-mine. Well, it doesn't matter. They both have real families to return to.” “I don't know what you're running from, but a great witch once told me... something about punching fears in the face? What I'm trying to say is don't give up so easily. They probably need you more than you realize. We can find another way to stop Belos together.”

Remember what I said about Raine being wise? This is that.

Raine teaches Eda that she is still needed. She lets Eda know that her purpose isn’t gone, its just different. You are different people all throughout your life, you just need to remember what you have seen, and change with the times.

Why is the line read of this girl realising she's back in the conformatorium so heartbreaking?

I also want to point out the fear of insignificance from a found family perspective. Eda thinks that her relationship with Luz is less valuable than their blood relations, but I don’t really believe that. Eda has taught Luz magic and sheltered her from a literal dictator. She has raised King from childhood. I think those are pretty important things for a family member to do, whether through direct relation or not.

In the resolution of this episode, King changes his name to be an official part of Eda’s family, which, sure, that’s how things work in the Boiling Isles.

“Surprise, Eda! Now we're connected for life, and there's nothing you can do about it!”

She’s a parent now, and that relationship is as important to king as finding out who his biological father is. In other words, Eda still has a purpose, and the fact this surprises her means that she has a lot to learn, but she is better at it than she thinks.

One last thing I want to talk about before I go is that Raine is a unique rebel. Usually, in stories about fighting an authoritarian regime, the cost of rebellion comes up. This is the conceit of Andor, but also part of Wicked, and She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. In these stories, the idea that one person must use the tools of their enemy. Not as bad as their opponents by any stretch of the imagination, but sacrificing their own morality in a small way for future generations.

Raine doesn’t do that. Raine is fighting for a better world, and at all times, they will sacrifice their plans to save the individual. Raine has plans in motion that can counteract any single “failure”, but crucially, preserving the world they want to protect is never a failure to them.

So, in summary, found family is just as important as blood family. More important in some cases. Eda has built her identity around being a parent without realising that is what she has been doing, this episode is her confronting that. Raine is cool. Defining people is difficult and takes away from who they are as people. The Owl House is a good show.

A Kikimora is a creature associated with sleep paralysis. So her ability to paralyse people is a neat thing, as well as that "night night" line.

Final Thoughts

This season has a string of episodes that are determined to break me, but I will stay strong. Through The Looking Glass Ruins, Hunting Palismen, and now this. But I’m fine, I’ve got this.

Eda’s Requiem is one of my two favourite episodes in the series. I can’t gush enough about the music, the pacing, the purpose seeking. This is so compelling, and it really works as a piece of storytelling.

The episode does have one flaw, in my opinion, and to me, this is an example of how one weird piece of direction can mess with my suspension of disbelief. The extended syllable whenever anyone says “legally” in this episode is so… off putting. It’s like King is expecting to be cut off, and it’s asking for Eda to misunderstand him. It’s such a small detail, but the episode is almost perfect otherwise, and this sticks out to me like a sore thumb.

The episode is still phenomenal though, and so to balance out my criticism, here’s a small detail I really liked. When Eda punches the guard, his head spins around 360 degrees. First up, the casual worldbuilding that this guy can do that but also the fact that the outfit doesn’t react that much to it means that it has been made especially to fit his anatomy. That’s a cool detail.

Anyway, next week I’ll be looking at Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door, which is a Hooty episode. Something fun, and entertaining. I’m sure nothing plot relevant will happen then, right? Right?

Stick around if you want to see my analysis of that chaos.

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#rants #literary analysis #literature analysis #what's so special about...?#character analysis #the owl house #toh #toh eda #toh raine #toh raeda #raine whispers #eda clawthorne #lgbtq #nonbinary

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ponett · 1 year

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I have now finally seen the Mario movie. It was Pretty Good. Here are my wordy thoughts on it. (I am going to spoil the entire movie. Duh.)

In many ways, the Mario movie does what I wish the first Sonic movie had done. They just took the characters and the premise and the world from the games, and made it a straightforward animated adventure movie. It's bright and colorful and remixes things JUST enough to include fun elements from multiple games, and it doesn't make Mario get adopted by James Marsden or whatever. It even has the music!

That's all you really need, right? Right...?

I'll get this out of the way up front. Chris Pratt was fine. He's fine

If anything, it really feels like they did the movie a disservice by letting us hear so little of the Mario voice in the previews. It took one scene for Pratt to disappear into the role for me. It was totally fine. If anything, I found Charlie Day's normal voice coming out of Luigi WAY more distracting, even if I did like him in the role.

Everyone else was pretty good, for the most part. Jack Black was obviously very good as Bowser, but I'm biased. Seth Rogen does the Seth Rogen laughs as Donkey Kong, but I thought DK was fun, too. (I liked his little rivalry with Mario where he was just constantly giving him shit.) The only casting choice I truly hated was Fred Armisen as Cranky Kong. I hated every line that came out of his mouth. He sounds atrocious. Just the worst. I swear to fucking god if they do a DKC movie and we have to hear him for 90 minutes

I did think Peach was lacking, but that was on the script, not Anya Taylor-Joy's performance. It's cool to see Peach fight, but it's one of those all too common instances where the writers put so much effort into making the main girl kick ass and be an effortlessly confident girlboss that they forgot to give her an actual personality. Not that I'd point to Super Princess Peach and its mood swing superpowers as positive representation or anything, but there's a happy middle ground, surely. Shrek was 22 years ago, just having the princess do flying kung fu kicks isn't enough.

Okay. With the voices out of the way, let's talk about the big picture:

It's way better than the words "Illumination Mario movie" implied, and I mostly enjoyed my time with it. The spirit of Mario is there 100%. But I'd also describe it as "ruthlessly efficient."

This was perhaps the main complaint critics had, and they were absolutely right. People have responded to these totally average reviews with "Well, what did you expect? Shakespeare?! It's MARIO!!" Like, yes, I would prefer it if the movie I paid to see had writing that was good instead of bad. What a shocker. My issue isn't that it's not "high-brow" enough. The problem is that it feels mercenary. It feels like an editor went through and deleted almost every line of dialogue that isn't some form of exposition, at the expense of the pacing. Any scene that's not a montage or some sort of action is kept as short as they could make it, with barely any room for embellishment, character interaction, or anything other than the bare minimum word count to hit all the typical Save the Cat Hollywood screenwriting 101 story beats to the letter. There aren't even as many jokes as you might think (and the ones that are there are extremely hit or miss, including a lot of the slapstick with Mario himself).

Mario and Peach's little arc together in the front half of the film is probably the worst example of this pacing. Even having read reviews that complained about how fast Peach goes from meeting Mario (by her admission the first other human she's ever met) to deciding to train him as the new savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, I was SHOCKED at how fast it was. They don't even lampshade it.

Peach takes Mario straight into the big training sequence where he learns how to use mushrooms and jump over platforming obstacles. Peach is apparently already a hypercompetent platforming pro and a great fighter, so there's no clear reason why she's taking the time to train this random guy to be half as good as her when the world is in danger. Then they set off on their adventure, Toad joins them, and we get a VERY brief travel montage. It's about thirty seconds total - just long enough to give Peach a line about how she wants to protect this beautiful world of hers to try and give her some stakes. We get the genre-mandated nighttime campfire heart to heart, which is exactly long enough to have Mario say he misses Luigi and to have Peach give the two sentence summary of her origin story and not a second longer. Then they reach the Kongs, and their big journey is complete. (They barely interact for the rest of the movie.) So much of the movie is like this - always ready to get on to the next scene as soon as a new one starts.

I'm not criticizing the script because I expect The Super Mario Bros. Movie to be a prestige drama - although there are certainly halfhearted attempts at a dramatic arc. The stuff with Mario's family was a fun enough idea, but again, ruthless efficiency. We get one quick scene with them at the start to give Mario some pathos, because I guess Save the Cat said he's gotta have some pathos. And then Mario gets his dad's approval amidst the action of the final battle in Brooklyn to resolve his arc, just so the movie can end as quickly as possible once Bowser is defeated. (Despite now having the approval of their family and their community back in Brooklyn, Mario and Luigi move to the Mushroom Kingdom off-screen without a single word dedicated to this decision, because that's where they live in the games.)

Look. I am not comparing it to The Godfather. Don't give me that shit. I am not asking for an extra half hour to explore Mario and Luigi's childhood trauma. I am not asking for the complex inner workings of the Mushroom Kingdom monarchy. I know this is gonna be a basic Hero's Journey adventure for kids. It just feels like it's turning down so many opportunities to have a little fun with the characters, to let them interact and play off of each other, to let there be some adventure on this adventure. This is the first time we've gotten to see these characters interact with fully voiced dialogue in a very, very long time! "Yeah, it's not High Art, but it's FUN!" Stories are fun! Character interactions are fun! The script could be having so much more fun!! It is adamantly against making the Story parts of this story-driven movie any more Fun than they functionally need to be!!!

Mario, Peach, and Toad's journey to find the Kongs is shorter than the training montage that precedes it. After the opening, Bowser mostly just sits in his castle and waits for the third act to start. Luigi's there, too, but he only gets one scene with Bowser and then the movie mostly forgets he exists until the climax. He doesn't even get to try and sneak out of Bowser's castle and get up to hijinx. He's just there to be a motivation for Mario, so he sits in a cage for half the movie. It's the bare outline of a script with action scenes added in.

Aside from the fact that it's Jack Black singing as Bowser, I feel like this overly-efficient script might be part of the reason why the "Peaches" scene stands out so much. It's a moment that didn't strictly need to be there to keep the plot moving or to provide an action setpiece. It's not even a reference to another Mario thing. It's just a fun and memorable little character moment that's there for its own sake. That's what the movie needed more of. To stop and smell the roses more often. To play in the space.

To be clear, this isn't a unique problem with this movie. Critics have been noting for years that second acts are disappearing from big Hollywood movies in favor of the Act I plot setup and the Act III action, even though Act II is supposed to be where you get to explore your actual premise. And lots of animated movies give me this exact same vibe of being too "screenwriterly," or feeling like they had an executive breathing down their necks and demanding changes based on focus testing. But these common issues are why I come away mostly feeling like the movie is on the better end of "average," rather than totally blowing my mind. You have seen this movie many times before, just not with Mario in it.

And, of course, there's the music. The score by Brian Tyler based on various classic Mario and Donkey Kong tunes (frustratingly all attributed to Koji Kondo) is absolutely beautiful, but it's unfortunately frequently overshadowed by the licensed music. Everyone already complained about things like the use of Take On Me in place of a lovingly arranged DKC medley, but it feels illustrative of the tug of war the movie is caught in the middle of, between wanting to be a lavishly faithful Mario movie and wanting to be a generic tentpole animated adventure movie. Every single licensed song used is the most obvious, overused song they could have picked for the scene. It reeks of cynical executive meddling and it took me out of the movie every time.

But there really was a lot of care and love put into this movie - more than probably any other video game movie ever made, not that that's a high bar. I don't want to underplay that too much amidst all my complaints spurred by the absolutely insane response to the reviews.

Aside from the countless background references that people will be picking apart for years, touches like the Captain Toad tune playing in the background of Toad's introduction or the Mario Kart 8 menu music playing in the kart garage really help bring it to another level of authenticity. I also enjoyed seeing some more obscure Mario enemies that felt like they were picked more for being fun to animate than for being nostalgic and marketable. No matter how many times I sarcastically pointed to the screen and deadpanned "reference. reference." I am not immune to noticing these things and smiling. I am not immune to the DK Rap. These alone don't make the movie good, but it's nice to have a video game movie that feels like it was made by people who like video games.

Most importantly, the animation is great throughout. It's leaps and bounds ahead of other Illumination work, and it's the best the Mario cast has ever looked. They even made Donkey Kong handsome, somehow. They're all so squishy and expressive, and they move so fluidly - especially in the action scenes. I particularly liked the more kinetic ones like the aerial Banzai Bill chase and the Mario Kart sequence. Truly, the Mad Max-inspired car battle on Rainbow Road where Mario literally does the speedrun shortcut is this movie firing on all cylinders.

Other, more hand-to-hand fights nail the Popeye-esque vibe Mario should be going for. He's an underdog who gets the shit kicked out of him by bigger, stronger opponents until he gets his signature powerup and turns the tables on them. My favorite animation of all probably came from the use of Cat Mario to turn the tide in the DK fight. They had so much fun making Mario move like a cat. Again, it feels like a choice made because it'd be fun to animate rather than just a nostalgia move.

It's that animation and that attention to detail that carry the film, really. They elevate it from mediocrity into being a fun watch for a fan like me, albeit one I couldn't help but pick apart with Anthony as we watched it at home. I'm glad I saw it, but there's a lot of room to improve with the inevitable sequel. I hope they do. I can't deny that I had fun with the movie, but I hope next time that fun is partially because of the script instead of in spite of it.

Stray thoughts:

Overall, I would say I enjoyed the movie a lot more than Sonic 1, but probably not as much as Sonic 2. Not that these movies need to be pitted against each other.

I hated the Luma. I hated how hilarious they clearly thought the Luma was. They have the fucking Luma break the fourth wall to end the movie and start the credits. This is going to be a deep cut for fans of bad animated films, but the whole time I was just thinking of the little fish from Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss who's just the director's kid saying random nonsense. You know I'm right

I rolled my eyes at the "our princess is in another castle" joke and several other jokes that would have been dated in a gamer webcomic 20 years ago but I guess they had to be there

How much of Brooklyn did Bowser's giant floating castle take out? We know 9/11 happened in this universe because the Freedom Tower is there, hasn't New York been through enough

I can't believe there's a Diskun easter egg

The dog is the most Illumination character design in the movie. It felt like it wandered on set from The Secret Life of Pets

Mario being a gamer and playing Kid Icarus of all things just made me remember this tweet:

Yes Anthony did get mad at me for being thirsty for Bowser

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1-800-local-slut · 6 months

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Hi, I was just wondering if you were able to write a klaus x black!reader story based on the video that I will put a link for on here. It’s just I don’t see too many blogs that write for black readers on here and yours just happen to be one of my favorites. The scene is from a show called Empire.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8USmuBM/

Peaches

I LOVE me some Empire and I love you for this ask, this is one of my favorite scenes from the show! Thank you so much for this ask and for reading my stuff, I really appreciate it. I'm sorry this took so long, I had it planned out but then school started giving me hell </3. I gave the reader the nickname Peaches for this as well, I hope you like it <333. Also please let me know if this was how you wanted it, if not I can always rewrite it.

Klaus is invited to take a bite out of a peach

Klaus Mikaelson x Black! Fem! Witch! Reader

Reader is Klaus's witch friend, and she goes to handle some negotiations for him. She has a bit too much fun during negotiations and here comes Klaus to the rescue.

I am so sorry this took so long my darling, whenever my writing takes a dip, its because my mental state drops like really bad. I was in a bad place for a while bbg, and I hope this makes up for it <3

Warnings: Drinking, witch reader, reader does a drinking game with some witches, reader gets attacked for like two seconds, reader is attacked, reader is horny, reader is nicknamed Peaches, I didn't give a lot of background for how Klaus and Peaches know each other, this is a bit short, allusions to smut, reader is a bit questionable, smutty thoughts, reader is thick

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

Under the low lights of the bar, the vibrant rhythm of blues and laughter lingered in the air, the cool night breeze blowing over her. Drunk people stood outside the bar with her, laughing and talking to each other. Among them, Peaches found herself deep in the pit of intoxication.

The music thumped behind her, her head throbbing with the beat. She giggled to herself, clutching her purse and adjusting the strap around her shoulder.

It had been an hour of negotiations. Klaus had once again had some sort of issue with a coven. He dropped her off two hours ago and asked her to do her best to ensure things went their way. After all, she didn't just help Klaus out for free. She did just that.

After finishing off a bottle of Pink Whitney, she won a victory and secured some allegiance for Klaus (mostly for herself). She was holding on to a wall next to her for support.

The Earth spun beneath her feet as she groaned to herself. How did she let herself get so drunk? Sure, she was technically just doing something for Klaus, but letting herself get wasted when there were so many different things to do before the sun rose? Irresponsible.

Then again, being friends with Klaus and doing magic for him wasn't the most responsible action. When it came to Klaus, she couldn't stop herself. She was an abomination to other witches, a servant of nature who consistently did whatever for her own personal gain, even if that meant working with Klaus.

He encouraged her in ways that were detrimental to those around them. He made her feel untouchable. His actions created a safe haven for the witch, a place where she could be free to chase all of her ambitions to the fullest with no judgment. She was born with these powers. Gifted even. Why should she not use them how she sees fit? Klaus taught her that when they first met. In a way, he freed her.

As she staggered past the walls littered with graffiti and cigarette butts, she looked around at the bright lights of New Orleans. The city Klaus seemed to fight tooth and nail for. Footsteps crunched behind her, and her head snapped around to see a young woman and a man giggling against a wall. Sighing and shaking her head, she turned around.

She wished that was her. Her with Klaus. In a way, Klaus was her perfect match. He understood her, helped her in any way he could, and in exchange, she helped him. It helped a lot that he was so handsome. His large hands around hers when he would have such a simple conversation with her.

The way he'd stare into her eyes with a knowing smirk, like he knew she was silently pining over him. Like he could see each memory of her running her hands over her body to thoughts of him. He would smile when she would boldly flirt back with him like he was daring her to flirt with him.

She wanted to feel his giant hands on her breasts instead of her own. He'd be whispering sweet nothings in her ear with that sexy accent. What if she called him right now? Or texted him to see if it was all in her imagination. Shit, she was way drunker than she thought; her thoughts wouldn't usually run this rampant.

Chuckling to herself, she stopped her trek to... God only knows where she was going. She just wanted out of that bar and that alley. Silly. She felt so silly? Her eyelids felt so heavy but also so light. Her body was buzzing, and she had an overwhelming urge to dance. On Klaus.

Aggressive footsteps pounded behind her, and just before she could turn, there was a man shoving into her. It was quick. Before she could give an aneurysm, before she could even blink or anything, he was on her. One moment she was dreaming about grinding up against her close friend.

Fuck, why did she drink so much? There was a man pushing her against a wall with such great force it made her head spin.

"MUGGER! MUGGER!" She wailed, jamming her fist into his back, although it wasn't working. Okay, being drunk in the dark alleyways of NOLA? Not a great idea. Carrying an expensive purse? Even worse of an idea. To be fair, running around with Klaus makes her practically invulnerable to any supernatural creatures. Humans, she more often forgets about.

With a grunt, he tossed her back into the wall, attempting to shake her purse free of her grip.

"Imma kill you, you picked the wrong one!" She screeched, in her drunken state deciding it would be easier to fight off a man far bigger than her. She put her free hand up and made a fist, socking the man in his jaw.

"You stupid motherfucker." She slurred, as she heard a whoosh close to her. Was she about to get jumped? The last thing she needed was to be jumped and probably murdered, seeing as she was too drunk to remember any spells right now. But when they came back, she was gonna get them.

With a grunt, the man was thrown off her and all her weight was free to fall. She fell into a pair of strong arms, hearing a familiar chuckle.

"Someone's out of sorts." Thank God. It was Klaus and his sexy leather jacket. And his sexy voice. Klaus was just sexy in general.

"Hey sexy." She giggled, Klaus lifting her off her feet and turning her body around so he could lift her. He was carrying her, cradling her tenderly while she giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

She silently thanked that mugger.

"Where did you come from? The strip club? Were you shaking it all night, Klaus?" Klaus laughed boisterously, his head tilting back. She could see every part of his beautiful body from the shoulders up. He smelled like blood and his signature cologne. The cologne that she's imagined spraying over herself or the scent enveloping her as Klaus's warm body engulfed hers.

Leather, like his jacket. Oak, like the wood of trees, musk, and something spicy. Like he was standing in the spice section of Stop and Shop. There was no point in trying to hide the sniff she took of him, which had Klaus jump. He was strangely silent, considering he never shut his ass up.

"What are you doing?" Klaus asked the woman who had a grip on his jacket. Her nose tickled him, and she could feel his stubble rubbing on her face. He just felt so good, that she couldn't help the soft moan escaping her full lips.

"Now, when I get drunk I'm 'attempting to hide from my deep emotional issues,' but when you do it, it's fine?"

"That's because you suck, but when I'm drunk you look soooo good. I just wanna take a bite out of you." She nipped his neck, all of her senses gone. There was nothing she could really do anymore.

Klaus had a way of getting under her skin, when she really wanted him in her.

"Don't do that." He scolded playfully, and pushed her head away. He began to walk towards wherever he came from, and she moaned. She wanted to go dance with Klaus in

Or skipping all of that and just getting plowed outside the club.

"Where did you even come from? You watching my body, Klaus? That's okay, I want you to keep your eyes on me." She grinned lazily and poked Klaus in his nose when he grunted and rolled her eyes. He adjusted her in his arms, and she smiled softly. He was just so gentle.

"Someone had to make sure you weren't being kidnapped and sold off. I can't just leave my favorite witch out here all alone in the cold, Peaches. What type of man would I be?" Klaus grinned, pushing some of her hair from her eyes.

"A bitch," she spat with distaste. Then she started dragging a nail up and down his chest while looking up dreamily into his eyes.

"But you're not a bitch, you're a sexy beast. I'm not even kidding." Klaus sighed as they approached the car. He chuckled down at the drunk witch whom he affectionately nicknamed Peaches.

"Peach, you're very drunk." Placing her body down against the car for a second while he fought to open the door and keep her from falling.

"You know why they call me Peach?" She asked, whispering in his ear up close. Her lips dangerously close to her ear, as she gripped him by his wrist.

"Yes, I nicknamed you that because you're sweet. Like a peach." Did Klaus know better than to try and rationalize with the wasted, but he couldn't help himself. Every chance at conversation with her, he took.

"No, it's because of this." She brought Klaus's hand down on her clothed ass. The soft flesh was being warmed by Klaus's large hand. It sent a heat through her entire body. It wasn't the first time Klaus had ever grabbed her ass. Casual friendship things for the two of them. Still, he jumped, and attempted to worm his hand away after he gave two squeezes.

"I'm flattered Peach, but you're a bit too gone for me right now." He began loading her into the car, while her arms locked around his neck.

"Yeahhh, I'm Peach. Did you name me Peaches because of this ass?" She almost moaned. Klaus now had her laying on her back in the car, and she threw one of her legs onto his shoulders.

"No, I told you why I named you that silly." She sighed and tossed her head back while inhaling the leather interior of the seats.

"Take a bite out of me since I'm suuuuuch a peach." She droned, sarcastically. In truth, Peaches did want Klaus to take a bite out of her.

Pushing her legs down, Klaus tried to get her legs into the car.

"Peaches, as beautiful as you are I do need to drive us home." He chuckled, and she groaned before breaking into a fit of giggles. It was infectious and spreading through her entire being; she couldn't stop.

Blue eyes flickered to the front seat, and it dawned on her then Klaus probably had someone drive him to come get her. It was night, and if he was conducting business all day, he was certainly too lazy to do it himself.

Klaus was staring down at her. A desire that Klaus couldn't hide no matter how hard he tried. His eyes glued to her thighs and the smooth skin of her legs. He could probably see her underwear from there but she didn't even care. Klaus allowed himself a squeeze of his Peach, and she let out a soft sigh.

"Just...just..." She broke into more nonsensical giggles.

"Are you alright?" Elijah's smooth voice broke the tension in the back. The tension between the two. Slowly but surely, she was bringing him too the edge of his self-control. It makes sense now that the usually animalistic Klaus wasn't all over her like he usually would be. Klaus was with his brother, who probably wasn't in the mood for his horny antics. But Peaches was.

"Oh Elijah! Hi, I want your brother to take a bite out of this peach. Wouldn't you want some of this?" She teased, rolling onto her side and making eye contact with Elijah through the rearview mirror.

Elijah took a moment, as if he was loading, and then broke into a deep laugh.

"I can't say I wouldn't partake if given the chance." He nodded, as Klaus scowled at Elijah.

"See? Elijah would partake. Come take a piece of this." She ushered flirtatiously through laughter. Klaus shook his head and rolled onto his side.

"Elijah, whether he likes to admit it or not, would sleep with any black woman who breathed in his direction." Klaus rolled her eyes as he slid into the passenger's seat after finally shutting the door. She stretched and rolled back onto her back and stretched.

"Don't throw up back there." Klaus warned, clearly amused at her drunk antics.

"Shut up." She grumbled as she prepared to fall into a horny sleep. If Klaus wasn't gonna take a bite, what was even the point of staying awake? After a yawn, she rolled over and dosed off to dreams of Klaus giving into that animalistic look from early.

#black reader #x reader #fem reader #x black reader #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #the originals #tvdu #thank you for reading #ily <3

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somnambulic-thing · 9 months

Text

Snark and Hopes

Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson |

A/N: I wrote this ages ago as a start for a series I no longer have interest in writing. But since I had a lot of it written already, I am scavenging it for parts now. It works as a standalone story.

Words: 1.1k

|The morning of the start of Eddie's 3rd Senior year; slice of life, vignette, wholesome Eddie & Wayne interactions, just slightly angsty, food mention, implications of Eddie having had sex/a one night stand|

Dawn broke after an unusually quiet summer night at the trailer park. No music, no fighting, not even that dog the Carters had ‘adopted’ three weeks ago had made any noise despite being a reliable little shit with its relentless barking during the nights.

The eerie silence had made it hard to fall asleep. Silence meant absence and absence meant room for thoughts to fester. Something like that anyway; those things were already difficult enough when you hadn’t slept for only around three hours.

Eddie lay in his bed with the blanket crumpled somewhere down by his ankles and watched a patch of pale morning light slowly creeping up his bare legs in the negative image of the slightly crooked blinds, edges glowing a soft red through the sheet that half covered the window. One arm tucked under his head, the fingers of the other hand lazily played with the streak of hair on his lower stomach until the light illuminated the surface of his rings.

Eddie sighed as the familiar sound of Wayne's car grew louder in the distance as his uncle approached the trailer. He shot a glance at his wristwatch despite knowing that 6am could only be a few minutes away, which meant that his third Senior year started in less than two hours. Sitting up, he swung his legs out of the bed and into the limbo that was his hopes and fears for what definitely would be the final stretch on his way out of Hawkins and put on a fresh pair of boxers before stepping out of his room. Eddie snatched his toothbrush from the bathroom sink and cursed over the nearly empty toothpaste before strolling into the kitchen to get the coffee machine going. He leaned against the counter, enjoying the early morning noises; the bubbling of the fresh coffee, the bristles scrubbing against his teeth and his uncle slowing down his car to park it next to Eddie’s van. It was something to focus on and somehow the world immediately felt a little less dreadful. There were footsteps outside now. Eddie turned, spat the toothpaste into the kitchen sink and got busy washing all the traces away before Wayne opened the door.

“Morning, kid.” “Morning old man,” Eddie grinned and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Had an ok shift?” “Well enough,” Wayne said and made his way over to the couch where he slumped down with a small groan and started to unlace his boots. “Helped provide the fine people of Hawkins Indiana with electricity and nothing caught on fire, so yeah, well enough.”

Eddie snorted. “And they will never know how much snark is powering their fancy tv sets.”

“They wouldn’t care if they did, would they?” “True.” Eddie made his way back to the bathroom. “Coffee is almost done.” “You grabbed the right can? Sure it’s decaf?” Eddie watched himself roll his eyes in the mirror. “I mixed it up one time and that was two weeks ago, Wayne.” “Just making sure, just making sure. You want some eggs on toast?” “Not hungry.” He turned on the faucet and drowned out the reply coming from the kitchen, splashing cool water on his face. “I’m taking a shower, you have to piss or something?”

“I’m good.”

Pulling the door closed without stepping away from the sink - the perks of a tiny bathroom - Eddie looked at his reflection with a critical glance. How odd it was to have a face you yourself could never see; what if his reflection lied to him? He’d been ageing so fast lately, all the boyish features were much harder now and he hadn’t even noticed that it happened, while at the same time feeling like he was stuck in slow motion. He brought his hands to his face, squished his cheeks and pursed his lips, stuck out his tongue and then let go, breaking into a smile as wide as he could master. “Ridiculous,” he said and relaxed his face again, simply staring back at himself with curious eyes that remembered him so much of his father that a small shiver ran down his spine. This happened from time to time and he hated it. Eddie thought he could really like his face, if only… “Yeah, whatever.”

Stripping off his boxers he stepped into the shower and turned the water as cold as it got. Palms pressed against the tile, Eddie pulled sharp air through gritted teeth and groaned as he pushed it back out while all his muscles fought against the onslaught of icy water.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…” His mind was blank. Blissfully so. When the stinging started to subside, Eddie jerked his arm to the amature and shifted it to a reasonable temperature, feeling lighter than before. Sometimes all it took was a little break in the circuit to get it together.

Mostly dry and dressed he joined Wayne in the kitchen again. Sat at their small table, shovelling scrambled eggs and tomatoes into his mouth, Wayne scanned the newspaper with a constantly raised eyebrow. There was a plate waiting for Eddie on his spot.

“Thanks,” he said sitting down. “Hungry now?” “Hmm-hmm,” he hummed, already chewing. “Had a rough night?” Wayne looked up, “Or is it a different kind of red in your eyes?” “Couldn’t sleep.” “Nervous about school?” “Pretty much, yeah.” Eddie bit off a corner of toast and waited for another question, avoiding eye contact. “I understand. You had a good summer, only natural that going back sets you on edge a little.” It had been a good summer indeed. A taste of freedom, if you like. Days spent laughing and jamming, raising cool beers in ridiculous toasts. Endless hours of guiding the summer party through blood-curdling adventures, seeing their eyes shine with joy, totally lost in the game. He’d seen Judas Priest in concert in June and had spent the short rest of the night with a pretty girl from Finnland who was on a road trip with friends and it had been sweet. There had been no need for a strenuous job like stacking shelves because Rick had recruited him as his new salesman and in the summer of 85, weed had been in great demand.

“Eddie?” Wayne ripped him from his thoughts. “Yeah?” he spat crumbs on the table. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said: just try and keep your head down, stick to your plan and the year will be over in no time.” Wayne emptied his cup of coffee in one final swing and then smiled with tired eyes. “You’ve been doing good lately and I’m proud of ya.” “Man,” Eddie rubbed his forehead, covering his eyes. “You wanna make me cry before school even started, or what?” Wayne got up and patted Eddie on the shoulder, then he took the empty dishes with him to the sink. “You have a damn good day, my boy.”

#eddie munson #Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson #Wayne Munson #my fic

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nitewrighter · 2 years

Text

Cindy Part 13

As always, for all parts, please refer to the masterpost.

This is it. Man I wish I could have something cool and goofy to say to offset all the emotions I’m feeling right now, but I’m gonna be honest, I’ve gotten really attached to this story, and I’m deeply touched by all of your enthusiasm and connection in reading it. This story was born out of frustrations of bad-faith readings of fairy tales, and... I dunno, over the course of writing it, it very quickly stopped being about frustrations with those bad-faith readings and more about telling a story because you love people. You love people because they’re messy and complicated and, like stories, they’ve got holes in them that make them all sorts of different things to different people depending on how different people in your life fill those holes. Does that make sense? I’m immediately realizing that that the ‘filling holes’ metaphor could be interpreted in a very interesting way but I can’t really think of a better metaphor but my point is... thank you all for staying with me this long. Love or hate the ending, I’ll see you guys on the other side.

Content warnings for major character death and... wait for it... eye trauma.

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There is a royal wedding. You don’t throw the words “Intended Bride” around in a royal decree going out to the whole kingdom and not have a Royal wedding. Both the King and Cindy are absolutely delighted to plan the whole thing and admittedly they kind of butt heads over aesthetics and the menu at first but eventually they figure things out and my god the king adores her. The prince is a little embarrassed about the whole thing but oh boy he’s more than happy to have a couple extra dancing lessons with Cindy, parse out some event logistics with moving the wedding party from point A to point B and arranging for everyone’s safe exit from the party to local inns and estates and the appropriate after-parties with Brad and Gabe, as well as taste-testing some samples for the reception catering (THE PRINCE GETS HIS PIES, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN).

Eunice paints Cindy and the Prince’s new portrait in the weeks leading up to the wedding—it looks much better than his old one—some say it’s because he looks a lot happier in this one, others say it’s because he’s looking at his fiancee in the portrait, which gives a much better angle to his jawline. Cindy is smiling out at the viewer of the painting, a rat in a dapper miniature guard uniform jacket on her shoulder.

The wedding itself is a fascinatingly egalitarian affair, outdoors in the palace gardens. The official ring bearer is a rat, sitting on its haunches with a ring in its little rat hands, carried on a velvet pillow by one of the king’s younger grand-nephews. The reception is catered by both the palace and some of Cindy’s favorite food stalls in the market. Kids of all classes are running around barefoot on the palace lawns and polished little heirs and scrubbed-raw ragamuffins alike are shoving child-fist sized bouquets ravaged from the gardens at the happy bride and nicking tarts from the buffet table. The queen’s privateers show up to the reception with kegs of rum and cool-ass fire-breathers and acrobats from far-off lands and they break into a musical number as is their custom. The local cheesemonger is rocketed to widespread fame and fortune through the sheer force of their le chevrot and is honestly unsure how they feel about it. It’s such a perfect combo of joy and chaos that even the king’s hardcore party-planning ass gets caught up in all the fervor of the event and he goes nuts on the dance floor and pulls the queen into it, too!

Dutiful Wine daughter is there and she catches the bouquet! Good for her! And she goes on to be the royal sommelier so actually she and Cindy are good friends and they have girls’ nights and sleepovers and Cindy just adores all of Dutiful Wine Daughter’s siblings. Eunice hangs out with them too because she has an ongoing commission with the palace of painting rats in fancy outfits next to bonsai trees and honestly she didn’t get out that much either prior to all this shoe stuff and it’s cool having friends. Prints of her rat-and-bonsai-tree paintings are extremely popular as a status symbol with both old families and the nouveau riche. Eunice honestly wishes her gay-as-hell mythological nudes were her bigger artistic legacy, but hey, y’know that’s how shit works when you’re a creative. You take what you can get.

Now, could I have the stepfam crash the wedding with the intent of humiliating Cinderella and then have a flock of fairy-possessed starlings peck their eyes out to the horror of the entire kingdom? I mean honestly that would be fucking metal but I don’t think Cindy wants to see any eyes pecked out on her big day. And also everyone else was having a blast so that would be a real downer. Even if they are abusive assholes. And you KNOW my man Brad has security for the event locked down pat! Oh the stepfam tried, but they weren’t getting in. The stepmother even tried hitting Brad with “Let me speak to your manager,” which is when Gabe showed up like, “Oh hello, Madam. You may remember me, I’m the King’s Valet, and I had some questions about your deceased husband’s estate.” (Cue anime glasses glint). And that’s when the stepfam was like, “Actually we were just leaving.” So they go home to their increasingly filthy estate, growing piles of laundry, and absolute jungle of a garden.

Meanwhile, after a cozy little wedding night where they crack open a certain bottle of port with a unicorn on the label, Cindy and the Prince honeymoon at sea with the queen’s privateers. To put it mildly, it is a wild ride. And I could go into all the sword-fighting and musical numbers and rat shadow puppet theater and the prince wearing those slutty puffy shirts with the pec cleavage and also the passionate kisses next to sunsets on glittering seas, but we’re just going to shift the camera to the stepfam for a second here—I know, I know, they suck but don’t worry, Cindy and the prince are fine, and you gotta give a couple some privacy on their honeymoon, you know?

See, quality of life on the estate quickly plummets without Cindy doing… well.. literally everything. There’s no one cooking, no one cleaning, no one doing the laundry, no one gardening, and it doesn’t take long for the Stepfam to get at each others’ throats real fast. Their house is no longer in a suitable state for them to have anyone over—they have no one cooking to serve food to guests and the whole place looks like shit—one might say the garden got out of control with almost supernatural speed, and without anyone doing laundry, they quickly run out of clothes to make themselves presentable in public. By the time they actually miserably figure out laundry? Every family of fashion has spent the last two months talking about how the royal wedding was the most exciting social event of the season—or, in one case, about how their son eloped with a foxy acrobat that came with the privateers. The stepfam does two (2) loads of laundry and like… four miserable attempts at cooking and one wretched attempt at dishes before they go, “Okay fuck it, we’ll use the gold the palace gave us to hire a new servant.” So they put on their muddy, unwashed cloaks and put out fliers under cover of night. Eventually a handful of candidates show up to the house, but the conversation always goes the same—or at least some variation of it.

“I’m sorry, you expect me to do… all this… and you’re only offering me this level of payment?”

“As well as room and board!” The stepmother blurts out.

“…in the basement. It’s freezing down there—are you at least going to get thicker bedding?”

“There’s a hearth!”

“Well yeah, but you built the bed into an alcove on the far side of the room. What am I gonna do, sleep in the ashes? On the hearthstones?? Those are literal rocks!”

“But—”

“And you know this contract doesn’t say anything about overtime or weekends.”

“What the hell is a weekend?”

And the candidate would press their hands together like, “Look, lady, even if I was crazy and desperate enough to take this job, which I’m not, the conditions you’re outlining literally aren’t legal.”

“Luh… legal??”

“Yeah! Haven’t you heard about the DDWR?”

“The what?”

“The Decree of Domestic Workers’ Rights? It was ratified as soon as the prince and princess consort wed! Why do you think the whole kingdom was celebrating? Literally 75% of the shit you’re describing with this job is well outside of its parameters! 95% if you were really being serious about the basement shit!”

“P-princess… Consort…” the stepmother repeats.

“Anyway—like, for me it boiled down to this job or a leather tannery, and to be honest, you’ve made the leather tannery look way more attractive. But anyway, best of luck with revising your contract to meet DDWR standards. I’m out.”

And that happened about 5 times. Except replace “leather tannery” with “fishmonger’s underling who deals mostly in cleaning out the guts” or “dyer’s apprentice whose job more or less guarantees your arms will be a weird teal-y gray up to the elbows” or “Bog witch’s apprentice even though damp environments wreak havoc on my complexion.”

So once again the stepfam was up shit-creek without a paddle. Except the younger stepsister got a very bright idea of “Well, Cinderella did all that because she had nowhere else to go, right? All we need is someone we know has nowhere else to go! And if they’re young enough, they aren’t protected by that DD-whatever!”

And Stepmother is like, “Finally a decent idea!” And she looks at the elder stepsister like “Why didn’t you think of that? Did your brain bleed out of your toe-stubs?” So the Stepfam takes off for the local orphanage.

It’s not nearly as miserable and depressing as they were expecting. They can hear faint singing in one of the buildings, they pass by a classroom where a bunch of orphans are eagerly raising their hands at an arithmetic question, and out in the yard, one of the nuns is overseeing a bunch of cute grubby orphans working on the garden and congratulating them on cultivating excellent bean sprouts. The stepfam is steered to a directory office where they’re greeted by an unfortunately familiar face. The stepmother doesn’t immediately pick up on the rising dread at the stepsisters’ reactions on seeing a girl they had previously described to the prince as ‘looking like she was either going to cry or piss herself.’ Amelia looks fucking great—she’s a novice, not a nun yet, but it’s clear she’s found a really good environment for herself—all bright eyes and cheery smiles and the kind of customer service politeness you would find in a Waffle House waitress who has SEEN IT ALL. And there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes at the stepsisters that tells the stepsisters, “Oh we’re fucked.”

“So!” Amelia tents her fingers, “You want to adopt one of our orphans. That’s great! Well, as soon as you pass our vetting process, we can set up meetings with children we think are best suited to your living situation.”

“V-vetting process?” The stepmother is remembering their house currently looks like absolute shit right now.

“Well, yes! Making sure the child is brought up in a clean, loving, and caring environment is first priority!” Amelia tilts her head cheerfully.

“We were hoping to just get an orphan as soon as possible,” the stepmother stammers, “You know how these children are so desperate for a home…Oh! And we’d like an older child—you know how it’s harder for the older children to get adopted—”

“But not too old,” the younger stepsister chimes in, “And strong, too.”

“Oh who doesn’t want a good home!” Amelia agrees, “However, with the OPA in place, there are ongoing vetting processes to make sure the children’s needs are being met.”

“The what?”

“The OPA? The Orphan Protection Act? It was ratified with the marriage of the prince and princess consort?”

“Her again…” the stepmother seethes.

“This act also granted massive amounts of funding to the support and building of orphanages so that we can provide the best possible environment until these children can find a home that truly loves them! Isn’t that wonderful?” Amelia’s shoulders bunch up all cute but the Stepmother is just bluescreening again with a high-pitched note screaming in one ear.

“So we can’t even get some useless gutter rat to do what needs to be done?” The stepmother huffs under her breath.

“I’m sorry, what did you call our children?” Amelia tilts her head.

“Nothing,” the stepmother draws herself up from her seat. “We were just leaving.”

So like, another couple months pass for the stepfam, and like… shit gets weird and resentful. I think the stepmother started blaming the elder stepsister for fucking everything up with losing her toes, but like… it’s not exactly the eldest stepsister’s fault her toes were the ones bitten off, nor that she kicked the shoe off and shattered it in response. The fairy godmother hated them all for what they did to Cindy, so any one of them would have gotten their foot mangled by the shoe if they tried it on. The elder stepsister was just.. the first. But you don’t think rationally when your heart is full of resentment. If your heart doesn’t know what it loves, what it’s fighting for, then it just… fucking starts eating itself and gnashing out at anything close to it. And that’s how shit was with the stepfam. They were able to support themselves for a while by extorting gold from the palace for the eldest sisters’ ‘Medical expenses,’ but eventually the eldest stepsister had enough, left the house, married some sideshow owner at the pier, and eventually sent a letter to Cindy saying, “Hey, I don’t live with the stepfam anymore, so if they’re asking for money on my behalf, they’re full of shit. Also sorry for forcing you to do literally all the work around the house while insulting you on a daily basis or something. I guess. I don’t care if you actually forgive me. Don’t bother writing back.”

Cindy does draft up several nice responses but eventually opts to just respect the ‘don’t write back’ wishes. The palace sends a polite letter to the stepmother congratulating her on her daughter’s wedding and saying they’re so glad she found someone to take care of her in spite of her medical expenses, and sending one final, decent-sized sack of gold as a ‘wedding gift’ even though they know the stepmother is just going to spend it on herself. Sometimes it’s not about forgiveness and redemption, sometimes you don’t know if this horrible person became a better person, sometimes you’re just glad they’re getting distance from a horrible situation.

And boy is it horrible.

The house is dilapidated as hell—we’re talking some Miss Havisham in Great Expectations shit. The Royal Restraining Order basically blocks the stepfam from attending crucial upper-class social events—aside from like, some horse races, and the regatta, and a good number of more middle-class social events, but they would never lower themselves to such sorry appearances!! To rubbing elbows with such riffraff! No sir! But eventually… it gets easier and easier for all the respectable families of the kingdom to just… stop inviting them to shit. So they’re in a filthy house, that’s basically rotting at this point for lack of maintenance, eating burned and undercooked and unseasoned or over seasoned food and regularly insulting each other over how they could stand to let them live in such a state. The older stepsister has already dipped but about a year later, eventually the younger sister can’t stand it anymore, scrapes up as much of her jewelry as she can sell, and takes off in the dead of night. I don’t actually know what happens to her. Like if you want to give her a whole redemption arc or whatever, go ahead, but all you’re going to get from me is a big fat question mark.

But the Stepmother? I can tell you what happens there, and I can tell you it’s not pretty.

Like, even if all of her interactions with her daughters were horrible arguments towards the end, like… at least that’s other people to like.. bounce off of, you know? At least there are other people around who, even if you’re all miserable together, give you a common sense of reality. When you’re all alone, and when you’re already miserable and bitter and completely convinced the world is punishing you and that has nothing to do with what you’re putting out into the world? Woof. Shit gets weird. Shit gets dark. I mean, the labor situation isn’t as bad when you’re just cooking and cleaning for yourself, but this is a big fucking house with a big fucking garden—it’s not designed for one person to live in and maintain. So whole wings of the house are closed off—furniture is covered with sheets—but more and more of the rooms are getting barer and barer as the stepmother is selling off furniture just to keep herself fed, hire drifters for one-off odd jobs, and keep up minimum appearances.

Maybe if the stepmother wasn’t so concerned about “riffraff” it might occur to her to lease out some rooms to tenants, but honestly the house is in such shit shape, it’s hard to imagine who’d really be willing to stay there.

The stepmother is pacing through the house, and every time she hears the wind through the hazel tree outside, every time she hears the chirps of starlings (and god, they’re getting louder) she swears it sounds like mocking laughter, or a coo of ‘Have you remembered to do the dishes?’ (The dishes are molding over in the sink—all the mold is probably not helping the mental health factor), or that it even sounds like Cindy’s goddamned singing.

And then, one night, when the stepmother is in bed, and the rain is pounding the half-rotted window frames, and there’s a cacophony of ‘tink tink tink tink tinks’ because the roof is leaking and she’s set out all of these pots and pans to catch the drips. The wind is howling through the hazel tree’s boughs, and it sounds like Cindy’s fucking singing again… and then, the Stepmother gets this grand revelation—The Hazel tree! That damned hazel tree that her stupid dead husband planted because he never actually loved her! He only ever loved the mother of that stupid little rat girl! The hazel tree is the ghost of that girl’s mother cursing her! It’s been so clear all along! So she springs out of her moth-eaten sheets and she races down the stairs, not even bothering to put a robe over her nightgown, out to into the mud of their fucking jungle of a garden which the semi-starved chickens now roam like mini-velociraptors themselves. The stepmother glares up at the hazel tree and then she furiously sludges through the mud over to the garden shed where she pulls out the axe she used to make Cindy chop firewood with. It’s very rusted at this point (and god her house is so fucking cold), but it’s good enough. It has to be good enough. Gripping the axe, snarling through her teeth, the stepmother goes to the hazel tree. She hefts up the axe for that first swing and hurls it down and THOK it bites hard and deep and cruel into the bark. Rain is pelting down on the stepmother and lightning flashes, but she doesn’t care. THOK. She strikes the tree again.

So like…you remember that whole bit I had about like, Fairy Godmothers being pretty dang strict about using magic to do ‘good’ and not focusing on curses and punishments? Like of course it was a whole thing because the Fairy Godmother herself emerged from a magic that was born from a very deep pain and grief—but Fairy Godmother actively chose to try and be a positive force in Cindy’s life because being a cruel fairy would just make things harder for Cindy. So even if she has to put up with lectures from other fairies, even fairy godmother’s vengeful, furious, bitter little ass is willing to try and be the bigger person for Cindy’s sake. So she really wasn’t doing anything to make the stepfam’s life harder—aside from the garden getting out of control really fast--but that’s more of a typical side effect of fae presence rather than an active act—but also she was mostly focusing on building back her juice after all the whizzbangs of the ball and the growing number of birds were more like a charging battery icon in this case. So she was literally minding her own business! But my point is—the Fairy Godmother code of “We don’t curse and punish people” goes right out the window when it’s a matter of self-defense.

And the stepmother was fucking with a tree she should not be fucking with.

The birds descended on her like a meteor shower. So many clawed little feet and beating wings and pecking beaks. The stepmothers’ screams were drowned out by cracking thunder and screaming birds and the boughs of the hazel tree moaning in the wind, and as a bit of a mercy by virtue of her own stress and malnourishment, the stepmother passed out at the peak of the worst of the pain. Rain still pounding down on her, her face staring blindly up at the sky, not even seeing the flashes of lightning. Pink water was crowning and overflowing out of her clawed out eye sockets. She was found moaning in the mud the next morning by someone duck hunting with their dog in the irrigation ditches nearby. She was carried inside her crumbling manse, dressed in the driest warmest clothes she had, her hollow, bloodied eye sockets covered with gauze, but fever had already well set-in, and her breaths were already shallow with pneumonia. I’ve mentioned before that this is a time when a cold at the wrong time of year can very much kill you—this is being out in the cold and rain with your eyes clawed out—open head wounds with the agony of exposed optic nerves.

A messenger was sent to the palace and, despite the prince’s assurances that “You don’t have to be there—” Cindy rushed over, along with the best doctors she could haul with her. And the prince followed after her because goddammit he worries about her! And he knows that whole situation’s fucked up!!

“I think you should hang back,” Cinderella pats his arm as they head up the stairs of her old house.

“But—” he starts.

“I… I can do this. It’s going to be okay,” she kisses him on the cheek, “I’m not scared.”

The prince presses his lips together with distress and Cindy goes, “Okay yes I’m very scared but… I’ll be okay.”

“Okay,” he says and he hangs back as she enters the room.

“Stepmother?”

The room is dimly lit. It’s overcast outside.

“Who is that? Who’s here?” The stepmother’s head is swinging around.

“Your highness, you should keep your distance,” the physician warns, his mouth and nose covered by a kerchief, “We don’t know if she’s infectious.”

“Highness?!” The stepmother squawks.

“It’s… me, stepmother,” says Cindy, maintaining a few steps away from the stepmother’s bed.

“Cinderella?”

Cindy feels like she’s really come to love her name in the two years she’s lived with it at the palace, but the way the stepmother says it still makes her stomach tighten.

“Yes, stepmother.” Cindy lets out a steadying exhale.

“I suppose I’ll be arrested now, as well, what with your 800 paces rule.”

“It’s been temporarily suspended, given the… circumstances,” Cindy fidgets with her fingers.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” The stepmother scoffs a derisive chuckle.

“No, no it isn’t what I want at all,” Cindy pushes a stray hair back.

“Don’t you play coy with me, you little witch—you and your singing. You and your rats. You and your—your cooking and sewing. You and your fucking tree. You—” the stepmother breaks into a wet coughing fit and Cindy instinctively takes half a step back, “You… You’ve been planning this for years, haven’t you?! I bet you made my daughters abandon me as well.”

“I—I haven’t. In fact, I’ve sent a letter to the elder and we have several men looking for the younger, so if you just hang on, I’m sure once they find out what’s happened, they’ll come too, and—”

“They won’t come, you little fool, you wretched—” the stepmother moans and presses the heels of her hands to her forehead.

“Please don’t strain yourself,” Cinderella says gently.

“All those laws you wrote… don’t act like you didn’t write them to spite me.”

“I didn’t write them to spite you—I had a lot of advisors to help draft the specific—”

“I don’t care!”

“Ma’am—” the physician starts.

“Shut up! No one asked you!” snaps the stepmother.

“I didn’t write those laws for just you or just me! I wrote those laws because I realized… I’m probably not the only ‘me’ and you’re not the only ‘you.’ I know I won’t be able to protect everyone, but if I can make a difference for at least a handful of people…” Cindy furrows her brow for a second, because she feels like what she’s saying right now is making sense, but it doesn’t seem to be making any significant impacts on the stepmother. Man, shit hits different when you’ve been living with people who actually listen to you.

The stepmother’s lips curl back from her teeth. “So you were still thinking about me when you drafted it…”

“Yes. I did believe that what you did to me shouldn’t be done to another person, and I did everything in my power to stop that,” Cindy huffs a little and looks around the room, “I think a part of me assumed you would still be fine in spite of that.” She looks at one of the pots on the floor with rainwater still in it from the leaky ceiling.

“And now you’re here to mock me at my lowest point.”

“I am not!” Cindy’s touching on a vein of anger within herself that she’s kept at bay with just calming breaths and there’s this flare of adrenaline in her, because she could punch down. She has every right to punch down, but she’s remembering a glamorous woman on her father’s arm, with two pretty girls hanging behind her skirts, and seeing her father’s fragile smile for the first time since her mother died, and all that is boiling down into a mild feeling of nausea.

“So what do you want?!” The stepmother demands.

“I don’t know, I just—I just thought you shouldn’t be alone,” Cinderella folds her arms tight across herself.

“You were the one who did this to me you rotten whelp!”

“I just made it so you would leave me alone! I don’t know what you did to yourself after!” Cindy blurts out furiously, but catches herself, “I’m sorry—you’re in so much pain already.”

“Oh shut up with your stupid, pathetic little morality play. Don’t act like this isn’t what you always wanted.”

Cinderella pushes her lips together. “This is never what I wanted. When I first met you…you seemed… so powerful and clever and beautiful and confident…and…I think I wanted to be like that, but mostly… I just wanted a mother.”

“A mother…?” The words float out of the stepmother, and like, even though there’s a band of gauze where her eyes once were, she fixes those bloody patches on Cindy, and Cindy suddenly gets this stinging memory of every time she assumed something good happening to her couldn’t be real, couldn’t be true, had to be some cruel trick because it was what she had known for so long. Maybe the stepmother couldn’t see Cinderella as her daughter because that would be too easy, too good to be true, and therefore, her only defense against something like that was quashing Cindy down. There’s a flicker of understanding, in that look between them, and Cindy sees the person she could have become, the person shaped by injustice and cruelty, had she not held onto the loving memory of her parents—Had she not had her little rat friends to comfort her, or even the Wonderful Hypothetical Party she was constantly planning in her head, had she not been able to shed her tears on that hazel tree. A short, breathy sound falls out of the stepmother, and at first, Cindy thinks she’s going to cry, but… it’s a chuckle. Then it seems to deepen and ripple in the stepmother’s already drowning chest, “A mother!” She declares again, like it’s the funniest punchline to the world’s longest joke, and that chuckle bubbles up into a full-on laugh interspersed with wet, hacking coughs. She’s laughing hysterically, the gauze over her eye sockets is darkening with fresh blood at the force of her laughs.

“Ma’am?!” The physician is stepping forward and Cindy is backing towards the door, but still the stepmother is convulsing with laughter.

The physician is calling for laudanum to calm her down, but suddenly that long peal of laughter seems to spiral and tighten in on itself like a tetherball whipping around the pole.

The stepmother dies laughing.

Cinderella stares at the still form in the bed, the physician fussing over her, trying to shake her back to consciousness, but there’s something about the way the stepmother’s features are frozen that tells Cindy it’s over. She sways on her feet for a few seconds, then blinks, and staggers to the door. As soon as she opens it the prince is taking her up in his arms, (of course his protective, fussy ass has been eavesdropping but also half frozen unsure whether to interfere because on one hand she said she’s got this but also holy fuck there’s a lot happening in there) and he’s pulling her out into the hallway. “I’m sorry,” he’s saying, “I should have come in, but I didn’t know if I would make it worse—I—you shouldn’t have been in there alone—”

“I’m fine,” her voice is hollow and blank, “I’m fine.”

“Cindy—” And there’s that mental log jam again, he wants it all to come out but it’s stuck in his throat. You’re not a fool. You’re not wretched. You’re not a rotten whelp. You’re not a witch. Actually you might be a witch because there’s still a lot I don’t know, but I don’t care if you are because if you are, you’re clearly a very nice one. But his mouth is just hanging stupidly open and he’s stammering a little.

“Can we go home?” She’s almost limp in his arms, not looking at him, “Please?”

They head out of the estate of Cindy’s father for the very last time, and they’re about to get into the carriage but Cindy, in a daze, unlaces her arm from the prince’s and kind of dizzily makes her way over to the hazel tree. She runs a hand over the two deep axe marks in the wood, “Are you okay?” She asks gently, “Did she hurt you?”

“Cindy?” The prince is deeply confused and concerned but his head jerks up as the hazel tree’s boughs creak and leaves rustle in a wind he can’t quite feel.

“You… didn’t have to do that for me…” Cinderella’s voice is a bit distant, “I’m not mad, I just…”

The tree rustles again and the prince is looking at the other trees surrounding the garden like, please tell me they’re moving in the wind, too.

Cindy’s neck cranes up at the boughs overhead. “Okay,” she says, “I—I understand. Take care of yourself.” And she gently kisses the bark before pushing away from the tree and kind of lightly, gracefully making her way back to the prince. The way she moves reminds him a bit of the fog that seemed to hang around her that night of the ball.

“Your um… your friend?” He asks a bit helplessly.

“Mm,” she just gets into the carriage and the prince mouths ‘What the fuck’ to Brad who just kind of shrugs before taking his place on the driver’s seat next to the carriage driver.

They go home. It’s a weird couple of days after that—they never really get in contact with the stepsisters, they send out news of the stepmother’s death but get nothing back, and Cindy’s staying in bed until noon for a couple days, but eventually she’s pulling herself to the palace gardens and to the stables and also she’s made a point of rescuing her now feral-ass chickens from her old estate and making sure they get back to their fat, happy selves. When she’s asked about the state of the house the stepmother left behind, Cindy just kind of blankly says, “It’s not mine anymore,” and everyone eventually accepts that that’s the answer she has to that.

Another few days pass. Servants say that Cindy’s eating more again and she and the prince can be heard quietly talking long into the small hours of the morning.

Another two weeks pass and Dutiful Wine Daughter and Eunice motion to whisk Cindy away for a few days by the sea. The prince voices some concerns but the queen 100% supports this girls’ trip and they depart. About a week and a half later, Cindy returns seeming a lot more energetic than she was before. Also she has a handful of cute new outfits—Cindy keeps forgetting she can actually buy clothes now—and loads of recipes for wine steamed mussels and chowders and fish fried in breadcrumbs, and also they have a little bowl of the mother yeast of the local sourdough which Cindy is very excited about.

A few more weeks pass and Cindy’s more or less back to her earnest, kindhearted self, still making her bed every morning (and of course roping the prince into it because it’s his bed too, dammit) still poking around and sometimes backseat-driving the palace kitchens, and still insisting on embroidering cutesy things into the guards’ uniforms when she notices a loose button or thinning elbows, not to mention she has her chickens to fuss over and rats to make cute clothes for—she’s still finding that no-filter self she had at the ball, but every so often it comes out and the prince gets the stupidest, most lovestruck grin on his face. She has the strength to show up to council meetings again, and the king and queen are very relieved to see her there.

I feel like we all have a very weird relationship with the term ‘happily ever after’ because like, life isn’t like that—that’s the term that’s come to breach suspension of disbelief even in a goddamn fairytale. Cindy’s put on some pounds at the palace and she looks great—like she doesn’t get as cold as easily, she doesn’t have that ‘orphan hollow eye socket’ thing going on, she doesn’t get dizzy when she stands up too fast, plus, her boobs look amazing. Fairy godmother would be proud. It isn’t just endless bliss forever because if it was like that, shit would be really fucking weird—if bliss is all you know, then is it actually bliss? I think you need the odd pain and argument and frustration and maybe even heartbreak here and there to really appreciate what you have, and for the record, Cindy and the prince overall have something really good—but like… they have an awareness about it—they know it’s a thing they both have to actively work on and be conscious of, because that’s actually how this shit works. Love takes patience and attention and work, but at the end of the day, it should be work that makes you feel satisfied with, both with yourself and your partner. It doesn’t have to be happily ever after—it’s quiet afternoons of listening to rain on the window and your partner reading aloud to you while you work on a new dress with some cool fabrics your mother-in-law got you because she saw them and thought of you. It’s you and your friends trying to go all ‘incognito’ because your cool friend found a cool new cafe downtown but the captain of the guard still insists on coming along for security reasons and god bless him he is trying to look like a civilian to maintain your facade but the man is fucking huge and everyone keeps flirting with him. It’s your father in-law’s valet quietly slipping you his footnotes on the drier texts of the kingdom’s legal history to help you get up to speed for another council meeting and you smiling at his snippy sarcastic little comments in the margins. It’s even headdesking at said boring as hell council meeting and your father-in-law quietly sliding you a cup of tea with a warm smile because yes, this stuff is boring but he’s pretty sure you’ll still get your motion to fill those potholes passed, just hang in there, kiddo. It’s good things and bad things and sometimes long stints of crazy shit—but the only constant is that you’re with people who love you and care about your well-being, and you love them, and want the best for them, too.

Now you’re probably asking, “okay but do Cindy and the Prince have kids? Because that was a pretty big deal for the king.” And I’m gonna leave that up to you. All you really need to know in that regard is that there’s a healthy hazel sapling in the royal gardens, and the king isn’t pressuring them nearly as much for grandkids as he thought he would be since they opened up those really high-grade cozy orphanages. The king reads books to the kids there, every Sunday. I’m like 80% sure the kids there don’t even know he’s the king, they just like that he does the voices. The queen still gets up to her usual adventures and bullshit, but actually does make more of an effort to include her family now, to mixed reactions from everyone. She plans on teaching Cindy fencing, or maybe boxing—that’s therapeutic, right? She’s sensitive—she knows she is. She’s going to be the best mother-in-law ever, goddammit.

Meanwhile Cindy and the Prince will sometimes spend a day riding horses together, they go through fields and through the woods and cut crazy paths between village roads and farmland footpaths, and sometimes, they ride down a road where a while back, a pumpkin bounced along and exploded on, and they ride that road until they reach a big, familiar house, crumbling with neglect. There’s a hazel tree there, and it’s grown so big it’s practically growing on the house.

The tree looks like it’s eating the house.

The End.

#Cinderella #Cindy may have opened a Fae hellmouth but don't worry because Fairies only go after mean and naughty people! Good night kids!!#Oh fairies also go after people they arbitrarily don't like but i'm sure you'll be fiiiine... sleep well!#maybe TWO fae hellmouths #imagine....

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