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bao3bei4 · 3 years

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fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all.

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fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you.

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances.

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves”

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women.

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other.

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how:

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers.

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese?

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finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power.

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry.

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition.

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people?

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game)

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects.

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too?

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it?

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some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood!

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :)

#x #-__- another fandom essay sorry

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lilhawkeye3 · 2 years

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12 months ago, I was friends with a popular art blog. Or at least I thought I was. We talked a lot. Even made a server together. But over the course of us knowing each other, I would often do things that would upset them without warning and only be allowed back into their good graces after apologizing for things that I didn’t understand to be wrong. It culminated in them and their new friend group of popular creators blocking me without warning and I was stuck alone, confused as to what I did. Unless someone had been on their bad side, most ppl I mentioned this to didn’t believe me.

And then it turned out that they had a history of being racist to Black creators across several fandoms, of sending mean anon messages, of their friends doing the same… and I had to realize there wasn’t anything I could’ve done to fix things, because I hadn’t done anything wrong.

So when another popular creator treated me in a similar manner… I largely stayed quiet about it.

And then six(ish) months ago, it came out that another popular blog had been racist (among other things), and that I was one of their targets.

I thought that I had lucked out! That someone else had spoken up about them and I thought people would believe me now when I explained what had happened! I wouldn’t be alone with what happened anymore.

Until a few creators I had considered mutuals and friends blamed me for not telling them that this person was hurtful. It was my fault for not informing them, and I should’ve trusted them enough to tell them.

That’s when I realized I couldn’t win.

It didn’t matter what I did. If I named names, it would’ve been me against everyone else, and it’s really fucking lonely being the only one to do something controversial like that. I would know, seeing as that’s what happened when I made my Bad Batch design post months before any hashtag started. And then I would need to take the risk for people to believe what I said was true. They had not done so in the similar previous situation. I couldn’t risk it being the same again.

And things were different. This second hurtful person knew my name, my phone number. I thought we were friends. I really thought I found something genuine.

Maybe I’m just stupidly hopeful.

I wish I could just teach myself this lesson all tied up in one neat bow, but it would mean lying to myself. “You’re the problem”— while an easy scapegoat, I wasn’t the inciting issue in those cases. “You’re a bad friend/person”— potentially true but my therapist disagrees. “No one likes you”— likely true but not an excuse for people to have been racist to me. “Internet friends aren’t real friends”— well that’s just completely false, because some of them have proven to be true friends. One sent me groceries when I struggled to eat. Two sent birthday presents, two sent cards. One let me send booty shorts and another wine lmao. And several didn’t abandon me when I was at my lowest point mental health wise and lashed out at everyone around me, trying selfishly to get them to all leave because I thought I was hurting them simply by existing.

I’m not a good person or great friend, but I logically get now that I don’t have a Midas touch either lmao.

But also… I can’t ignore the damage that was done to me emotionally. I really was hurt by people I trusted. The behaviors they perpetuated online are those that encouraged the racist bs I deal with. And now I forever have to look over my shoulder and second guess everything people tell me because I don’t know who is genuine up front anymore.

And now I see that big groups of creators seem to be becoming the next new facet of social media. Maybe cause isolation, but I think it’s natural for us all to want a solid group of friends that we can be ourselves with. Sigh i don’t know. I’ve never been in a friend group, so everything I say comes from an outside point of view and from the perspective who was hurt by two different popular groups but… please, just… understand the power that you potentially have? And how someone can get hurt by it? Things get passed around like a game of telephone and shared and twisted and next thing I know, I’m hearing three sides to a story during my gift exchange fest over why they in their subgroups of the fandom are wary of others. Some people are genuinely malicious but idk, maybe I’m not hopeless enough to thing that everyone is.

I’m not really sure why I’m writing this. Maybe because my therapist suggested it because clearly I use writing as an emotional outlet lol. Maybe because when I went through my ask box to find some kiss prompts, I had to face some of the awful messages I get sent every once and a while. Unfortunate for them, I have decided that killing myself is too energy consuming and expensive. And the insults to my creative ability: yeah okay you aren’t saying anything bad about myself that I haven’t already thought.

Or maybe I just felt like I’ve pent up all this hurt about the situations I was forced into this past year and now writing this while I cry is the best outlet for it all. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways yeah. I don’t really know where I’m going with this. I was just sad and wanted to write about why I was sad I suppose. Might stay up and finish a spicy Jango Fett art, bc I might be a fake fan but I thrive off of spite and horny chaos.

In conclusion, if you want to see some good homegrown drama, join a Facebook fandom group. Thanks for coming to my Sad Time with Hawk Talk.

#can I bill tumblr through my insurance for this therapy session?#hawk says yes #if you managed to read this then uh holy shit why would you do that to yourself but also good for you

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hitoshisbabygirl · 3 years

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Author's Notes ♡: Hi there hey! Welcome back to another collab piece!! This round I try to have him in his pro hero line of work and being his usual soft and caring self. It’s a bit soft but also heated at the end sooo, I love making a softer Kiri so enjoy!! I hope I did this justice~ bunny ❥

Warnings : NSFW again! (◎_◎;)

A use of pet names like twice, if you squint you’ll see a bit size kink and Soft Dom Kiri, fingering, Light cursing, pussy job, Kiri is a soft but huge lover

Word count : About 3.3k!

Paring(s) : Pro hero!Eijiro Kirishima x F!Reader

Summary : Kirishima was used to saving people, and having the joy that comes with it and completing his job, so what happens when he falls for the girl that is his main link to a case?

Enjoy ♡

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Kirishima knew taking this mission with Fatgum would be one of their more challenging ones : A drug ring filtered out throughout a high end hotel with an escort and stripping service. Supposedly they'd traffic with the girls, under trays of food or other masked ways. The menus were keys to what each drug was, and each service was a different type of delivery. They were so close , so very close to understanding what was happening but...they also hit a bump. Most of the investigation was focused on the owner of the hotel but they soon found out that they were barking up the wrong tree. The owner of the hotel wasn't who controlled the flux in the drug ring but a patreon, a wealthy real estate manager for a mob. Sighing, Kirishima rubbed his face, glancing at Fatgum who was writing like a madman at the desk in their jointed room “Hey Taishiro..” Kirishima called as the blonde let out a hum,still jotting notes “We have that other lead right? Uh..” He started as he flipped through his own notes, running over a name “Peaches, the cage dancer?” “Yeah what about her?” Fatgum said as he looked to his red haired subordinate “Why don't we see if we can find her? She should be working tonight right? The other dancer said she only comes in on certain days, and she seems tied to Mr.N'' He siad as Fatgum joined him at his side , reading over his notes “Yeah! If we're lucky we’ll find some more about our lovely friend here”

And with that they headed downstairs and to the giant double door, the sound of thumping music seeping through the crack “Well Red, let's head in yeah?” Taishiro said as Kirishima followed behind. He knew undercover work was difficult, and it didn't help that both had to disguise their identities to the best they could : Fatgum and him both using colored hair spray to hide their hair colors. Taishiro opted to stay in his smaller form more often and wore clothes that were more fancy while under the name “Yuri”. Kirishima on the other hand was his makeshift “Bodyguard” , opting for all black looks and tended to hide his mouth with a black mask, going by the simple nickname “J”. The purpose was for Fatgum to look like another high end boss with security , and that's how it was. As the two entered they were greeted with half dressed to bare women with only covers asking them what they needed or wanted , some handing them drinks and allowing them to wander. The lights were bright and strobing , almost too much to the sober person, so the intoxicated had to be worse. Heading to the back they passed through a curtain into the higher end of things. Men with people at their hips, smoking cigars and watching as more dancers did their usuals, money being handed over , thrown and placed on their person. “Alright how about we split up, il take this seat, see if you can find the cage dancers” Fatgum said as he sat to an approaching girl, the women threw herself to his lap as Kirishima sighed watching him start up as he saw a red light behind another side curtain. Catching his attention Kirishima walked forward, into a darker room with a string of red lights illuminating a cage-like stage. Before he could get far a man stopped him

“Excuse me sir do you have a reservation with Peaches?” Bingo. He found her “Uh no sorry i don't , i didn't know i needed one for her '' He said shyly as the man looked up to him before sighing “Well, then sir i can't help you” Sighing Kirishima looked at the stage again when he saw one of the most beautiful sights he could see. A woman, covered in a red and black piece popped into the stage “Whats the issue Moby?” The women said as her eyes widened to the tall male in her usual empty room “Ah nothing miss Peaches, this guy i guess thought he'd get a show” The security said as the girl still looked to him and smiled waving him in “He does now, put him on my list yeah?” She said as the security stuttered , letting the towering man past “Ah miss, is it okay if my friend comes along as well? He went to a different stage but he would be meeting back up with me” He admitted as th e woman strolled to him , pressing a hand to the cage “He can come too, tell Moby to put him on the list sweetheart” She said before walking away, yelling to the security “Put his friend on the too!”

Soon Fatgum came into the room with him, sitting beside him as more paterons surrounded the stage “the other dont know them, it seems our girl is the one were with now” He whispered as they all looked up to the stage , the setting being set for the act who was coming out. If the hush whispers were anything he knew the girl they were waiting for would be something great.

All of a sudden Kiri could feel his heart in his throat, the woman he had spoken to came out , still dress the same as she waved to the whistling people below, goting to her pole with a jump and started spinning effortlessly, the sight was absolutely stunning ; he'd never seen such a beautiful display before. No one told him that stripping was a form of art, no matter how people tried to look down on it, this was art to him. He now knew why she was so sought after, the grace she had as she moved closer to him through the cage made his heart unironically thump and all of a sudden the throb in his chest moved to between his legs , an embarrassment he wish he wouldn't admit outright until a shove on the arm from his senior “Its alright, i think she likes you” Fatgum whispered as Kirishima looked up, seeing in fact that her eyes were glued to him.

Moving to the front she leaned against it, eyes locked on him as she beckoned him closer, the desperate others trying to reach for her as she smirked , reaching to Kirishima “Why dont you cmre big boy” She said as they whooped and hollered , all smacking him in the back as he gave fatgum a wide eyed look, the hidden blonde, giving him a thumbs up. “U-uhm I-” Before he could say much she tapped the cage , pointing to Kirishima as the security took him around to the opening “You're a lucky guy ; its rare she does a lap dance with fresh faces” The guy said, confusing the hidden redhead “How's that?” He ask “Well whoever spends the most on her usually just gets a leg tap or such, a lapdance is the highest thing she'll do with a crowd” He said before giving him a chair and opening her door “Have fun, she might spoil ya” And withthst he was face to face with the beauty. Walking up to Kirishima she gave him a smile, her smaller hand running over his chest before she took the chair from him , sitting it in the red light. “What should i call you cutie” She whispered before he felt the knot in his stomach tighten again “ Uh..how about..Jay..” He whispered back as she pushed him lightly into the chair “Well then Jay, ill give you a nice show hm?” she giggled, before moving into his lap. Kiri felt himself freeze , she smelt very good, and was too close for comfort. She was warm, and the way she looked at him made him feel like a highschooler all over again “C-can i touch you sweetheart?” He whispered as she settled , her eyes wide as she buried her face in his neck “A real gentlemen, I knew it was a good idea to trust you.

Go right ahead cutie, be gentle with me” she answered as she started to rock, rolling her hips with the thumping of her music. Slowly he put his own hand on her waist, following her constant moving as the group below yelled, telling him to do more or for her to strip even more. He felt her get close to his face before their noses touched, the heat in his chest blooming more as she pulled away. Feeling brave he gripped her hips, pulling her closer and with a gasp her arms moved back to his chest , the two in their own world before realizing there were eyes on them both still. Slowly she crawled down his lap, eyes on his as she ran her hand back on his thighs , her face on his lap as they screamed for more before the curtain dropped, covering them and the guys outside of it begged for more. Sitting back on her legs and letting kirishima catch his breath he held a hand to her , helping her up “T-Thank you for the show Miss Peaches , I feel honored“ Kirishima said as she blinked, before feeling her body heat up “O-Oh uhm why thank you for thanking me, i don't get much appreciation, and most would want your place. I….felt drawn to you so” She admitted before giving him a look “OH and you can call me [ ], but try not to around patreons, they'd be upset they don't know yet and i just told some newbie” [ ] teased as he laughed , agreeing “Yeah definitely. I hope to see you uh, more often” He said before he could stop himself, giving her the same shocked look her face had “I guess you're who've been asking for me.

Here, I'll give you my number and you tell me whenever you need something” She said, holding her hand out for his phone. Fumbling he took his phone out, taking her number in his phone as they walked to her dressing room. Shyly [ ] looked up at the tall boy who insisted on walking her back to her room. Standing ther awkwardly he gave her a shy look back “Uh i know this is random but when is your next show? I love how beautiful you look and i'd...wished to be able to..i'm not sure what id want to do being there” Starting to ramble he laughed and rubbed his head before [ ] grabbed his hands “Hey that's fine, i'll come around more often if you're around i feel safe with my new shield” She teased.

And thats how it was for a few weeks, them seeing her every day she danced and her even coming to see them on her off hours. Kirishima explained why they were really there and it made her heart happy to see change. She decided to help them, giving more information to them, helping them along with their case as it started to close. Before long Kirishima and [ ] had gotten closer, the two of them growing to love the others attention , so much so Fat gum called them out for it “Yknow, when this goes down, you should get [ ] to follow us , she's quite smart , and she could do wonderfully as a partner. She would benefit better from a safe environment” Fatgum said one day while they were finishing their report “Ya think? I do care for her, and I can't stand her coming over and crying about the abuse…...but i dunno what if she doesnt like me like that…”

Kirishima whispered as he felt a hand smack him on the shoulder “Ask her. Can't hurt to ask right? And the way you both give eachother puppy eyes even when she's on stage i'm pretty sure she likes you the same way you like her.” He teased as the red head beside him sighed, hearing a knock at their door. Opening it he was face to face with the girl in question, [ ]. Her eyes glowed as she came in, greeting the two males in front of her. “Hey guys! How's everything going?” She said as she sat on the edge of one of the beds in the room , dressed more casually which made them both have a sense of joy “Ah well we should be arresting him tomorrow once he gets here, I know you work tomorrow night so ill have Kiri be with you, he’ll make sure everything runs smoothly , we’ll all go back to the headquarters and regroup okay?” Fatgum finished as [ ] shook her head, agreeing with the plans as she sighed “I'm nervous but it needs to be done... I , well all of us can't take this anymore...constantly being in fear all the time yknow?” she sighed as she laid back, a comfortable silence falling between them as they all laid around the room “Uhm [ ] can I ask you something?”

Kirishima said as she hummed, cracking an eye open to look at him. Knowing what was to come Fatgum gave him a thumbs up before claiming he had a call to go investigate downstairs, leaving the two of them together. “[ ] I cant stand you in pain...I dunno what i can do for you but...please, let me help you out , come with me , with us. I want you to be happy y'know and ive enjoyed every second we’ve had together..maybe im being selfish, or maybe its silly but...I” Trailing off he looked up to [ ] giving him soft puppy like eyes. Reaching out she placed her hand on his , rubbing her thumb on the back of his hand as she took in a breath to start her own comment back “Kiri...Ejirou, I care about you, so so very much, I wouldn't want to be a burden to you, but I'd love to go with you. Question is , is tit the both of you who want me around or a certain red head who cant take his eyes off of me” She teased as the color in his face flushed to his ears , stuttering as [ ] laughed “Its okay Kiri, Fatgum told me too, that we both care so much for eachother and should admit it, its why im here now actually” [ ] said as she meekly met his wide eyes, not fully thinking he understood her “W-wait say that again?” Kirishima croaked, meeting her gaze as she smiled , tracing his hand that sat beside her leg. Before he could stop himself he tackled her to the bed , pushing his lips against hers. With a gasp she kissed him back, wrapping her hands around his neck as they laid there, sealing their promise to eachother with a kiss. Soon, Kirishima pulled away, but not before tugging her bottom lip in his mouth. Gently he placed his hands beside her face, looking into her [ ] colored eyes, his heart fluttering once more as he kissed her forehead “Im sorry [ ] i just couldnt help it… Uhm am I moving too fast? I can definitely wait until youre ready” He spoke out as the girl under him sat up, gripping his cheeks “Kiri, honey ive waited for us to confess and now youve gotten me riled up, take good care of me yeah? Later on we can be more intimate but for now..I need you” She said, seeing he way the red heads eyes darkened at her comment “Then let me tak good care of you my love”

And with that he slide a large hand down between her thighs, rubbing at a wet patch forming against her panties as he pushed passed them, entering her with teo plump fingers “I gotta get you to relax, i wont fit if youre this tight” Whispering in her ear he picked up the pace, kissing right under her pulse as [ ] sucked in a breath, grabbing onto a strong arm “K-kiri I-” Shushing her , Kirishima leaned over to kiss her lips, speeding up his fingers as he felt her drip between them “Cum for me sweetheart, let me open you right up” He begged. Feeling her stomach tense at his choice words [ ] whimpered, her high hitting her as the sound of him pumping her though it echoed throughout the room. Pulling his hand out from her fluttering pussy and short he smirked, licking her orgasm from his fingers. Giving her a lopsided smile he spoke ‘Cant wait to eat you out..but thatll have to wait. I need to be in you” Sittin up from her Kirishima pulled his shirt off and with a toss threw it uncerimosily into a corner, as well as his pants and her clothes. [ ] couldnt help biting her lip as she saw the bulge under his boxers, a spot of precum at the tip as he palmed himself before pulling them off slowly, the red tip smacking his stomach

“ Like what you see?” He teased as he ran the tip between her sopping folds, a gasp as soft ‘Yes’ falling from her lips “Ill be gentle okay? If its too much tell me, alright?” he said as [ ] agreed , opening her legs more as he started to rub around her clit, catching it with his swollen head. In a trance he kep that up, bucking between her lips as it started to make them both sticky and hot. Soon she couldnt take it anymore, grabbing his hand as she pleaded with him “Please Kiri, put it in already, I can take it” Letting her words sink in he smiled before flipping her to her stomach, pressing his tip against her wet hole “Hold on to something then” was his last warning before pushing in, his tip sliding by with ease as the smaller girl under him moaned, arching her back to take more in his first push. Slowly he kep rocking his hips, pushing more and more in before finally bottoming out, a satisfied groan spilling from both parties lips. Leaning down to her neck Kirishima bit down gently before picking up his pace, holding her hips in place as [ ] whined , reaching back for a hand “W-wait please its too much” She whined as he slowed his hips only a bit , feeling her clench over his own thick member “Youre close again...is me pounding you from behind too much” He cooed, biting a new post on her neck as he sped up again, making the girl squeal “I-i dont wanna cum yet! I dont w-want it to end” She spilled out as she felt the knot in her stomach return, warming her lower body as he kept up his pace, sliding a hand to go between her legs as he searched for her nub, tracing it as he drilled in her from behind. Too quickly [ ] felt it snap, the little bit of control over her rapid orgasm faulting as she came overhim, grabbing the hand on her hip as she weakly rocked back “Thatta girl, keep going you got it...fuck im close too, where d-do you wnat me to cum” He asked as his own hips got sloppy but never slowing down, in fact they picked up more pace as he chased his own high “Im on the pill, please fill me up baby, Eijirou i need you to fill me up” [ ] pleaded. Hearing his name unexpectedly was his demise. He felt himself quiver as thick ropes of cum spilled from hsi tip inside of her spasming and warm walls, a low growl falling from his lips as he rocked the last of his oragsm out, small ‘Thank yous’ and ‘I love you’ falling from his lips. With care he wrapped his arms around her torso, holding her to his chest as he pulled them sideways “Well...i didnt expect the night to go like this” [ ] giggled as Kirishima kissed her shoulder before agreeing “I don mind it...but I meant it...i didnt just use you fro sex or anything..”He said again as she hummed, kissing the hand the laid on her chest “I know...i meant it too..” As the comfortable silence filled the room [ ] felt something hot stir her again. Looking down she could see Kirishima getting hard again> Before she could say anything he spoke “Whenever youre ready, I could go for another round sweetheart” Slightly pushing her hips back [ ] knew she was in for a long night

#my hero academia #bnha #bnha collab #bnharem collab #kirishima ejiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima smut #bnha x reader

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oriigirii · 3 years

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The Brothers reacting to an MC who likes to collect... rocks?

It was certainly a strange hobby to behold, but there were more than meets the eye within these rocks! If you crack them open they often hold such a wonderful design, and on the rare occasion they can probably even hide a geode or two, regardless, you were very passionate for these things and it just so happens that it catches some of the brother’s attention.

(A/N: Ill be doing 2 at the time for now UwU

Warnings: none!

Reader: Gender Neutral!)

~ 눈_눈 Lucifer ~

* Lucifer always kept an eye on you ever since you got to Devildom

* Cuz of this, he was probably the first to notice your... strange addiction

* He saw how you always seem to stop on your tracks to pick up a shiny smooth stone lying on the side of the gates infront of the HoL while he walked home with you.

* Or how you’d snatch a few from the gardens on an early Sunday morning when you think that everyone was still asleep

* Since it was harmless enough, he never really bothered to call you out on it

* Lowkey does find it cute how something so small can already make you so happy, such an easy-to-please cutie you are

* It wasn’t a problem till he was told that you seem to be arriving late more often for your classes

* At first he thought that maybe you were simply caught up in some mess from his brothers again

* Maybe perhaps Belphie snuck you off to sleep again than go to class

* But no, when he’d confronted you he was pretty surprised, and at the same time, confused at your answer.

* “There were these cool looking red geodes I accidentally found on the back, b-but I mustve dropped them at some point when Mammon and I were rushing to class...so I’ve been trying to look for more of them for my collection... Sorry...”

*To be fair you did look pretty apologetic for it and really didnt mean to botch up your schedule, but still.

* He lets you go pretty easily, with a small lecture, but thats about it.

* Although you never did stop looking for that geode, you even pulled Beel to help with promise of a homemade cake to try and cover as much ground, but nothing.

* You came home that day a little defeated

* but much to your surprise when you reached your room, a small box was waiting outside your door and inside was none other than the beautiful red geode youve been so desperate to look for. And... well, you didnt have to guess who was kind enough to give it to you.

* The next day, you do go over to thank him properly for the help, and explain that you had been extremely captivated with that specfic geode because of how it reminds you of the first born’s eyes.

* This boi is highkey stunned but tryna make it lowkey though (pride 100)

* Definitely amused and flattered.

* From now on, he does continue to give you geodes to add to your collection, and would even accompany you on your little endeavors if his work load isnt too unbearing. Away from the eyes of his brothers of course.

* Hed definitely want to seek the perfect geode too that reminds him of you in return that he can decorate on his desk while hes working. Even better, maybe have the geodes crafted to a perfect ring that you two can wear.

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~ ᕙ(`▽´)ᕗ Mammon ~

* Not like youre complaining either

* Today was another weekend, and weekends mean you guys get to hang out!

* Not like you two were ever seperated in the first place anyways, he’s like an octopus that just wont let go

* Anyways, He casually enters your room, phone in hand as he scrolls through various articles featuring his modelling work, he was gonna show off as usual, afterall, this man LIVES for your praise.

* “Oi! (Y/N) Check this out! They ranked me number 1 on the most handsome model in Devildom! And I didn’t cheat the system this ti---”

* You had been busy in your cabinet when he walked in, so you didnt have time to warn him of your mess on your bed.

* Hence why, when he was starting to brag about his latest achievement, it was immediately cut off by a pained yelp.

* Mammon, too busy on his DDD, didnt notice the shiny geodes and stones you had left on your bed to arrange for your new dsplay case, and because of this, (his dumbass) plopped on the bed, landing right on the sharp edges of the beautiful rocks.

* It wasnt fun.

* You had rushed to help him as he started stroking his back from the sting, he was a demon so he was pretty sturdy, but cmon, landing on a buncha hard rocks was still not good.

* You did rush to go get him an ice pack for his poor back, and when you came back, he seemed to have been healed almost immediately as he stares at your collection with a big shine on his own eyes, they can rival the geodes at this point.

* “(Y/N)! Why didn’t you tell me you had these? Don’t yknow how much these would sell? Hell, I can even probably sell them for an even higher price!”

* The rolling of your eyes was very intense that Diavolo could feel it from his castle and you pushed that ice pack on his face to make him stop.

* You did make it very clear that if he ever decides to try and get any of these stones, you were gonna be snitching him to Beel for eating his pudding the other day (You wouldn’t though would you?)

* Still that does shut down his money making plans, but he does question you for it, why hoard these valuable items when you could make thousands of grimm for it? You even seem to have a talent for finding these too, it seems like a huge waste, and so you proceed to explain to him your love for these shiny geodes.

* First image in his head was you being a relative to a crow, or you being a crow in general, because if anything, thats what his little crows do, they pass him shiny stuff they find along the day, of course theyre not as extravagant as these geodes, but it doesnt negate the fact you definitely have crow energy, and hes so down for it. His love for you just grew tenfold.

* But who knew it can grow further? Because you eventually explain to him that the geodes you collected, or the simple stones you had, all were special because all of them hold a special memory. One of the smoother stones you had was the same stone you used to display your mom’s favorite rose garden, it even had your initials that you scrapped on when your were 5, another was a geode you found on your field trip at the human world and so on.

* Mammon definitely had his attention to you the entire time, this boy is smitten and he just loves hearing you talk about each one, he grows a small appreciation for them now and he can understand why you wouldn’t want to sell them away. But then he noticed you reach for a much cleaner, tear drop looking geode, it was a blue-yellow mix.

* You explain to him that this was your first geode found when you went here in Devildom, the first you also carved as it was more jagged than this when you found it, and of course, you chose to keep it cause it reminded you for your first man.

* Mammon was so moved,and he was just sitting there, red as a strawberry and mouth open like a fish out of water, but hes not the only one because you too were blushing like an idiot as you held the special rock.

* He does end up trying to act his typical ways, but he was nothing but a stuttering mess, and much to his embarassment, he was also tearing up.

* Please hug him, he needs it, he just cant help but feel so flattered that you dedicated a geode for him and he felt that pride and love swell to incredible levels, you definitely have him yearning for you even more.

* Next time you go out to seek more geodes here in Devildom, he might just come with you along with his army of crows, and even cuter, his crows would just hand you special rocks every now and then.

* This boy might just start his own collection now thanks to you, but most his geodes will just be dedicated to you

----------

A h h h hope you guys like it! I know its a weird premise, but I honestly do love gemstones and stuff lol, also yes i did indulge too much on Mammon, hush,but yeah, ill do more of the others soon!

(Art by me!)

#obey me shall we date #obey me Mammon x Reader #Obey me x reader #Obey me Lucifer x Reader #Obey me x gender neutral reader #Obey me fanfics

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lee-scribbles-and-doodles · 3 years

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My Top Ten Overlooked Movies With Female Leads In No Particular Order

Note: When you see this emoji (⚠️) I will be talking about things people may find triggering, which are spoilery more often then not. I mention things that I think may count as triggers so that people with them will be aware before going in to watch any of these.

Edited: 3/16/21

Hanna (2011)

So, before I get into why you should watch this movie, I just want to take a moment to say why it's near and dear to my heart. Growing up as a queer kid in the early 2000s, seeing portrayals of people like or similar to myself on anything was rare at best. It was mostly in more "adult" movies or shows that my parents would occasionally let me watch with them that I'd see any lgbtq+ rep at all. Often times they were either walking stereotypes, designed to be buried, evil, or all three.

Then here comes this PG-13 action thriller with a wonderfully written main female lead who, at the time, was close to my age, and who got to kiss another girl (her very first friend, Sophie) on screen in an extremely tender and heartwarming scene. To say the least, it was a life changing moment for me personally.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, Hanna is a suspenseful movie about a child super-soldier named, you guessed it, Hanna (played by Saoirse Ronan) and her adoptive (?) father Erik Heller (played by Eric Bana) exiting the snowy and isolated wilderness of their home and taking on the shadowy CIA operative, Marissa Wiegler (played by Cate Blanchette) who wants Erik dead and Hanna for herself for mysterious reasons.

It also has an amazing soundtrack by the Chemical Brothers, great action scenes, and it has an over arching fairytale motif, which I'm always a sucker for.

⚠️ Mild blood effects, some painful looking strikes, various character deaths, and child endangerment all feature in this film. However, given its PG-13 rating, a majority of viewers are presumably able to handle this one. Still, be aware of these going in.

Sidenote: It's recently gotten a TV adaptation on Amazon TV, although I have not watched it, and do not know if Hanna and Sophie's romantic/semi-romantic relationship has transferred over.

A Simple Favor

A Simple Favor is a "black-comedy mystery thriller" centered entirely around the relationship between two mothers, the reclusive, rich, mysterious, and regal Emily (played by Blake Lively), and the local recently widowed but plucky mommy blogger, Stephanie (played by Anna Kendrick). When Emily suddenly goes missing, Stephanie takes it upon herself to find out what happened to her new best friend.

It's a fantastic and entertaining movie throughout, with fun, flawed and interesting characters. The relationship between the two female leads is also implied to be at least somewhat romantic in nature, and they even share a kiss.

⚠️ The only major warnings I can think of is that the movie contains an instance of incest and one of the main plotlines revolves around child abuse, although both of these potentially triggering topics are not connected to each other, so there is thankfully no csa going on.

Edit: I legitimately forgot there was drug use in this movie until now. So, yeah, if that's a trigger, be careful of that.

I Am Mother

I became mildly obsessed with this movie when it came out. I Am Mother is a sci-fi film that centers entirely around a cast of two woman, and a female-adjacent robot who is brought to life on screen with absolutely amazing practical effects.

The plot is such, after an extinction-level event, a lone robot known only as Mother tasks herself with replenishing the human race via artifical means. She begins with the film's main protagonist, Daughter. Years go by as Mother raises her human child and the two prepare for Daughter's first sibling (a brother) to be born. However, on Daughter's 16th birthday, the arrival of an outsider known only as Woman shakes Daughter's entire world view. She begins to question Mother's very nature, as well as what's really going on outside the bunker she and her caretaker call home.

⚠️ This movie features child endangerment and reference to child death.

Lilo and Stitch

When I decided to add a single Disney film to this list I initially thought it was going to be hard but almost immediately my brain went to Lilo and Stitch, and specifically about the relationship between Lilo and Nani.

On the surface, this film is about a lonely little girl accidentally adopting a fugitive alien creature as a "dog," but underneath that the story is also about two orphaned sisters and the older sister's attempts to not let social services tear them apart by stepping up as the younger sister's primary guardian. Despite its seemingly goofy premise, Lilo and Stitch has a very emotional and thoughtful center. It's little wonder how this movie managed to spawn an entire franchise.

Despite the franchise it spawned (or possibly because of it), I often find that Lilo and Stitch is overlooked and many people only remember it for the "little girl adopts an alien as a pet" portion of its plot, and I very rarely see it on people's top 10 Disney lists.

⚠️ This movie could be potentially triggering to people who were separated from their siblings or other family members due to social service intervention. There's also a bit of child endangerment, including a scene where Lilo and Stitch both almost drown.

Nausicaä and the Valley of the Wind

Unlike the above entry, I did struggle a little bit with picking a single Studio Ghibli film. Most media of the Ghibli catalogue have strong, well-written, unique, and interesting female leads so selecting just one seemed like quite the task.

However, I eventually settled on this particular film. In recent months, Princess Nausicaä has become my absolute favorite Ghibli protagonist and I'm absolutely enchanted by the world she lives in.

Set in a post-apocalyptic world overun by giant insects and under threat of a toxic forest and its poisoness spores, Nausicaä must try to protect the Valley of the Wind from invaders as she also tries to understand the science behind the toxic forest and attempts to bridge the gap between the insects and the humans.

For those who have never seen the film, I think Nausicaä's personality can best be described as being similar to OT Luke Skywalker. Both are caring, compassionate, and gentle souls who are able to see the best in nearly anyone or anything. She's an absolutely enthralling protagonist and after rewatching the film again for the first time in well over a decade she has easily become one of my all time favorite protagonists.

Whenever I see people talk about Ghibli films, they rarely mention this one, and when they do mention it, it's often in passing. In my opinion it's a must watch.

⚠️ This movie contains some blood, and the folks who either don't like insects or who have entomophobia may not appreciate the giant bugs running about throughout the movie. (Although most insects do not directly relate to real life bugs, and are fantasy creatures).

A Silent Voice

A Silent Voice is an animated movie adaptation of a manga of the same name. While I've never had the pleasure to read the manga, the movie is phenomenal. It covers topics such a bullying, living in the world with a disability, the desire for atonement, social anxiety, and depression in a well thought out manner that ties itself together through the progression of the relationship between its two leads, Shoya and Shouko. It's also beautifully animated. Although very popular among anime viewers, I've noticed that it's often overlooked by people who watch little to no anime. So I suppose this is me urging non-anime viewers to give this film a chance.

⚠️ As mentioned above, the movie deals with bullying, anxiety, and depression (with this last one including suicidal thoughts and behaviour). If discussion of those topics are triggering to you, than you may want to proceed with caution or skip this movie all together.

In This Corner of The World

Another manga adaptation, this one taking place during WWII-era Japan. In This Corner of The World follows the life of a civilian Japanese woman, Suzu Urano, as she navigates simply living and her new marriage as the wartime invades nearly all aspects of everyday life. I think this movie is a good representation of what it must be like to be living as civilian in a country at war where the fight is sometimes fought on one's own soil. It was also an interesting look into pre-50s Japanese culture in my opinion. It's also beautifully animated featuring an art style I don't see often.

Despite it being well known among anime fans, I never really see it be brought up, even among said anime fans themselves.

Side note: I've seen many WWII dramas centering around civilians but they've almost always been about American or UK civilians. This was the first movie I'd seen that features the perspective of a Japanese civilain.

⚠️ Features the death of a child and limb loss. There's also a disturbing scene featuring a victim of one of the atomic bombs near the end.

Wolf Children: Ame and Yuki

This film follows Hana, a Japan-native woman who fell in love with a magical shape-shifting wolf-man, and her trials with raising their children, who can also magically shape-shift into wolves, on her own. It's a very heartfelt movie about a mother's love and the struggles of doing right by your children when you have limited resources to actively guide and care for them. All the characters feel unique and alive in my opinion. Also, the animation is so good that my sister and I initially mistook it for a Ghibli film.

Again, like the previous two anime entries, I don't see it ever brought up outside of anime circles.

⚠️ There's some child endangerment present in the film, although none of it is the fault of Hana as far as I can remember.

Roman Holiday

Roman Holiday is about the fictional Princess Ann (played by Audrey Hepburn), who while on a whirlwind tour of Europe, finally reaches her breaking point over having her entire life be one big schedule and all her words and actions being rehearsed. In the spur of the moment, she runs away in hopes of experiencing what life is like for other women. Unfortunately, she was previously given a sedative, meaning she doesn't get too far before it takes effect. Fortunately, she is found by the kind reporter Joe Bradley (played by Gregory Peck). Believing her to be drunk and unable to get an address from her (because she has none) he ends up taking her home for safety's sake and allows her to sleep off her suppose drunken stupor. The next day, he realizes who she is, and decides to take her on a fun sight seeing trip across Rome in hopes of getting the big scoop. Along the way, they begin to fall for each other.

This is my favorite black and white, old romance film. I think the relationship between the main characters is absolutely beautiful and I have a lot of fun watching it.

⚠️ I'm not entirely sure what kind of warning this film would need. However, it was released in 1953, so values dissonance will probably be at play for many viewers to at least some extent. For example, early in the film Ann is given sedation drugs by her doctor for her behavior, something that is very unlikely to happen today. Also, Mr Bradley deciding to take Ann home to keep her safe rather than call the police or an ambulance is a very pre-90s decision in my opinion.

#hanna 2011 #a simple favor #i am mother #lilo and stitch #nausicaä of the valley of the wind #a silent voice #in this corner of the world #wolf chilren ame and yuki #wolf children #roman holiday #black and white film #anime #disney #studio ghibli #movie recs #top 10

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marvel-sluts · 3 years

Text

Christmas with the avengers

pairing: avengers x teen!reader, Peter Parker x reader.

warnings: maybe some swearing?

summary: your first Christmas with both the avengers and with Peter, what could possibly go wrong?

a/n: merry Christmas everyone! this is absolute shit but I wanted to write something Christmassy, I hope you all like it!

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you hadn't been part of the avengers long when you started dating Peter, causing this to be your first Christmas with the both of them.

you get dressed in the matching Christmas jumpers you and Peter both had, because apparently it was tradition in the avengers tower to wear Christmas jumpers on Christmas day, so you had both agreed to wear the matching jumpers. (see gif)

you pulled on a pair of jeans and tied your hair up in a ponytail, with a small peice tinsel wrapped around your hairband. you did light makeup with f/c (fave colour) of eyeshadow.

you walk out of your room in the avengers tower and bump into Thor and Loki, heading to the kitchen.

"hello lady y/n, you look ravishing. I love your jumper." Thor said smiling at you.

"thanks Thor, you look good too." you say smiling at him.

"I like the tinsel" Loki muttered to you on the way past. you and him had become quite close over the past few months you have spent at the tower, but it still shocked you that he would say something like that with Thor around. normally he was a lot quieter in the shadow of his older brother.

"thanks loki." you say cheerfully, getting into the lift with them.

when the three of you get to the living room and kitchen you go your separate ways. Thor to the kitchen, no doubt to raid the cupboards of poptarts and you and Loki to the living room. you take a seat next to your boyfriend and smile at him.

"you look amazing" Peter says, looking at you lovingly.

"so do you." you say giggling.

"I know" he said, pretending to do a hair flick. but failing miserably and accidentally hitting himself in the face.

you laugh at him, and he looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that you can never resist. "sorry love" you say before kissing his cheek where he hit himself.

both of you head to the kitchen and after collectively deciding on cereal for breakfast, you go back into the living room with bowls full.

just as you both sat down on the sofa at your previous spots, Tony came in with Morgan trailing behind him, also wearing matching Christmas jumpers. "Merry Christmas everyone!" he says, sitting next to Steve and Bucky on the sofa.

Morgan runs over to you and attemps to scramble onto your lap. after realising what she was trying to do you help her get up and she sits on you happily.

Morgan had begun to like you in the short time you had been here, you were good with kids and would often play with her causing you two to become immediate friends. she was your little partner in crime and the pair of you would often adopt Loki to help prank Tony and Steve.

"I know its Christmas but there is a lot to get done, Pepper, Wanda and Bucky are on cooking duty first and then we will rotate, check this peice of paper that was kindly provided by Bruce for the timetable. everything else should have been done already."

"I can't wait to see what I got from Santa!" Morgan squealed excitedly, eyeing the pile of presents under the tree.

"I'm offended" you say dramatically, "are you not exited to see what I got you?" you asked laughing.

"yep, I'm exited for all the presents!" she said before getting off of your lap and running into the kitchen to 'help' with the cooking.

after half an hour of chatting and crimes cookies Nat decided she was bored.

"who wants to play Christmas games?" she shouts holding up a box. you glance at the box before bursting out laughing.

"o-deer! really?" Sam said, laughing at what happened last time you played it.

"do you remember Rhodes last time, he looked like he was going to take off." Scott said laughing.

"erm, excuse me. but who won?" Rhodes said pointing to himself. "this guy, so don't get ahead of yourselves." he said.

"I personally think I'm gonna win this time" you say sticking your tongue out at Rhodes.

"not gonna happen doll" Bucky called from the kitchen.

"just watch me win" you say.

everyone comes in from the kitchen and takes a break from cooking to play.

you all take turns having the antlers and throwing the hoops, when both you and Peter had finished you both collapsed on the sofa. he put his arm around you and you nestled your face in his chest, breathing in his warm sent.

after Nat announced that the winner was Wanda (everyone thinks she used her powers, although she swears that she didn't) you changed around kitchen duty, next up it was you, Peter and Steve.

Vision had mysteriously disappeared from the cooking rota, despite the fact that Wanda had been helping his cooking skills he couldn't seem to get any better.

you got started on the brussel sprouts, how anyone could eat them was beyond you but apparently some people *cough* Sam *cough* liked them.

Peter had gotten started on the stuffing, making the mixture and rolling it into balls. whenever he would walk past u he would kiss you on the forehead, or whatever part of you that was facing him at the time. Steve was watching this behaviour and wasn't sure to find it cute or disgusting.

Steve was getting busy with the mashed potatoes and checking on the turkey every once in a while.

a gasp echoed through the kitchen as you burnt your hand on the oven attempting to check on the turkey per Steve's request.

"what happe-" pete asked trailing off when he say u nursing your hurt hand, "oh baby, are you okay? did you burn it? don't worry it will be okay. I'll get some ice for it" he said, completely freaking out.

you watching him frantically searching for some ice for a minute before saying "don't worry petey, it's fine. it's only a burn. and it doesn't hurt that badly" you say giggling at how concerned he was.

"but what if it gets infected? or if it swells up?" he asked finally managing to find some ice and putting it on your hand.

"honestly, you kids." Steve says rolling his eyes and chuckling. "are you sure you are alright y/n?" he asks, his eyebrows knitting in concern.

"yeah I'm sure" you say, smiling up at him.

"okay" he says checking on the turkey himself.

you checked the clock "our shift ended five minutes ago! those little fuckers didn't tell us!" you say taking off the apron. you go into the living room and find Morgan and Loki laughing on the sofa.

"I'm truly sorry Lady y/n, it was my shift next and I didn't want to do it." Loki said, smirking at you.

"your not sorry" you say.

"no, your right, I'm not" he said, grinning again.

you roll your eyes and resume your earlier position on the sofa, Peter sitting next to you.

"secret santa!" came a shout from the doorway, you looked up to see that it was Tony. he was carrying the secret santa presents in his arms and Clint and Rhodes were behind him also carrying armfuls of presents.

Morgan jumped up from her seat next to Bruce squealing excitedly.

"don't we have to wait for our special guests to get here?" Pepper asked eyeing Tony.

"oops I forgot, yes we do" Tony said putting down the presents bashfully.

"what special guests?" you ask, having not heard about this at all.

"you will see" Tony said, with a shit eating grin.

about ten minutes later a knock was heard at the door.

Vision gets up to answer it and you soon here a shout from the doorway.

"do not fear, Christmas is saved. for the overrated king of wakanda and his amazing and beautiful genuis sister is here!"

"SHURI!" you and Peter both yell in unison.

"it is I" she said flicking her hair (and actually succeeding) before running to hug the two of you.

"not that anyone has noticed but I'm also here" Doctor Strange says from the doorway.

Tony and Bruce look up from talking to T'Challa and go over to shake hands with Strange.

"presents now?" Morgan asks, tugging on Tony's trouser leg.

"yes sweetie, go over and open some of them." Tony says. patting her on her head and sending her on her way.

everyone gathers around the tree and watches Morgan open her presents from santa. when she has finished you give her a wrapped package with some art supplies in. she jumps up and hugs you with a massive grin on her face.

then someone (you guess Scott but your not sure) yells secret santa.

everyone gets the presents they had gotten for their secret santa, you had gotten Thor and after asking for help from Peter you ended up making him something. when it was time for you to give thor his present you presented a wrapped up package. it was a knitted jumper with tiny hammers and lightning bolts on it.

he opened the present with a massive grin on his face and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

"thanks you Lady y/n, I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"your welcome Thor" you said, smiling up at him.

when everyone was done with the secret santa, you had received a few scented bath bombs and a silver snake ring from Natasha, some people trickled out to go and help in the kitchen.

you handed Peter a package wrapped in red paper, "here you go Petey" you say.

he takes it and opens it, you had given him a watch with the millennium falcon on the inside of it.

"thanks baby, I love it!" he says hugging you tightly and kissing you square on the lips. "you will get yours tonight" he says with a grin.

not even five minutes had passed when a yell was heard from the kitchen.

"you idiot, you were meant to take out the turkey while we were opening the presents!" Sam yelled.

"well its not my fault that the timer didn't go off!" Clint yelled back.

"FRIDAY, did you set the timer like I asked you to?" Sam asked.

"you never asked me to set a timer sir" FRIDAY replied.

"shit" Sam muttered kicking the table in frustration.

after a few minutes of chaos Steve managed to find a ham in the back of the fridge, everyone decided that the ham was the best thing to have so you cooked it up and it didn't get burnt.

everyone gathered around the table, the food was delicious, and you almost couldn't tell that there wasn't a turkey.

"hey Bucky, could you pass me the potatoes please?" you asked. piling your plate high with good food.

once everyone was done eating you all sat in the living room and put on a Christmas movie.

you and Peter wanted to watch the muppets Christmas Carol but you both were outvoted and you ended up watching the Nightmare before Christmas.

Tony got the movie set up and you curled into Peter. an hour later when the movie was finished you were still in the same position, you were very happy next to Peter with him stroking your hair lovingly. you buried your head further into his chest until you had to upstairs to bed.

Peter offered to carry you and you glad fully accepted, completely worn out from the chaos filled day.

when you had both gotten up to your bedroom he presented a wrapped up gift from his pocket.

"I'm not done with you yet y/n" he says with a grin on his face.

you open the package and inside find a box. upon opening it you find a beautiful silver heart locket. you open up the locket to find that Peter had already put a picture inside, it was a picture of you and him on Valentines day, on the date that he had set up for the two of you.

"omg, Pete I absolutely love it!" you say with a massive grin on your face, "can you put it on me?" you ask.

"turn around" he says, taking the necklace from you and clasping it up. "all done"

he spins you around and you land in his arms, he kisses you passionately and you kiss back just as fiercely. the kiss was filled with passion and promises.

that night you fall asleep in his arms, with a massive grin on your face.

you couldn't have wished for a better Christmas, even if it did include burnt turkey.

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lambden · 3 years

Text

Here’s some belated Geraskier fic that I finally get to post, as last week’s flash fic challenge has wrapped up! This was originally published anonymously; kudos to those of you who guessed that I was the author. Head to the collection to see the picture prompt that inspired this, as well as view the other works. I've been having a great time participating in fandom events like this; I promise there's more on the way!!! (Read on AO3)

Up To Date

prompt: "You were so hot that when you asked if I was the blind date you were looking for, I lied and said yes. But then your actual date comes up to introduce themselves and I'm so embarrassed."

G, 2.3K words, modern AU, Geralt/Jaskier

It shouldn’t be this difficult to find inspiration. He never used to struggle like this in high school, finding his muse in everyone and everything. Even his mundane trip on the city bus to and from school would give Jaskier hundreds of ideas, for poems too personal to publish or lyrics too deep for his band to use. Back then he had thought he lacked discipline and experience, so the clear choice had been to take his interest in poetry one step further and go to university.

The problem, as he’s now discovering halfway through his second year, is that he maybe hates university. He loves it, of course; he loves the praise from his professors and peers, he loves learning about the history of literature and art. He even loves the academic rivalries that wax and wane every term, and the competitions that ignite a mean streak in him he didn’t know he had.

But his assignments are of worse quality than anything he’s ever written before, and try as he might, they aren’t getting any better. Putting words on the page just to meet a count is impossible for a poet, not when the space and thoughts and images are all supposed to be cohesive. Poems used to flow from him so freely he hadn’t been able to keep track and now his well of motivation has just about run dry.

That’s what led him here, for the third time this week. His creative dysfunction has forced him into the day-to-day habits of an elderly man who spends his days reading in public gardens. It hasn’t helped so far, but maybe this third time will be the charm. Jaskier finds his favorite place: right by the koi pond, next to a strange art installation with ivy crawling along it. He sits at the base of the giant question mark, dropping his backpack onto the bench beside him.

“This better fucking work,” mutters Jaskier to himself and the koi, opening today’s book to a random poem. He refuses to let his mind wander at first, gluing his eyes to the page and reading with intense intent. The first poem he sees is about love.

Groaning, Jaskier flips the page. The next poem is also about love.

The third poem is about war, and Jaskier thinks that might be alright, until he realizes what this long-dead poet is trying to tell him, which is that war is also about love. Because it is, of course, but also of course it is. Jaskier scowls deeply and flips through the book to a random page, hoping to find something to spark inspiration that won’t just make him feel hopeless and single and hopelessly single.

Before Jaskier can get through the title, someone speaks to him, startling him so badly he jumps. “Are you Yennefer’s friend?”

Jaskier scrambles to catch the book by its cover and nearly drops it. He hadn’t even heard anyone approach. “Sorry?”

The stranger audibly sighs, as if Jaskier has inconvenienced him terribly. With all the force of someone announcing their presence at their own death row, he grits out, “I’m here for a blind date she set up. With you.” Jaskier looks up at the man and sees him wearing a blank expression, pointing at the question mark in front of the bench. “By the thing.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, still looking at the man. It takes a second for the words to sink in because the stranger is perhaps the most handsome person Jaskier has ever seen. He could write a thousand poems and still fail to capture his beauty. He has golden eyes, for one, and a sharply chiseled face. Even grimacing like this, his jaw is set in the loveliest way, and his stern brow is framed by platinum white hair, half-tied up. He’s wearing a fairly gloomy outfit for a blind date, but maybe he told whoever Yennefer is that he would be dressed in black. Regardless, he’s making it work.

The gorgeous stranger is still waiting for an answer, scowl worsening as Jaskier tries to make his decision about how the fuck to handle this. Really, there’s no decision at all— he just impulsively takes the leap. All his best ideas come when he’s stumbling forward blind anyway. “Yes,” he finally says, jumping to his feet. “Yes, um, I’m sorry, you caught me off-guard. I’m Jaskier.”

“Geralt.” They’re of a similar height, but Geralt is so much wider. Jaskier wants to climb him like ivy on a question mark. “I’m sorry I interrupted.”

“It’s fine! I got here a while ago. You know, can’t be too early!” Jaskier has never been early for anything in his life. He sits down again and shoves his books into his bag as quickly as he can. Geralt shifts his weight back and forth between his feet before awkwardly sitting on the bench next to Jaskier, looking out at the garden. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before,” he admits, which is true. His usual lies and schemes are much less chaotic.

Geralt doesn’t reply to that, leaving Jaskier to privately wonder about his dating life. He stares at the plants, giving the impression that he might be hideously nervous. Jaskier has no idea why someone like Geralt would be nervous about anything but it’s an awkward situation, to say the least. Right as Jaskier’s about to suggest they get out of here before Geralt’s real date shows up, the man asks, “What were you reading?”

“I was studying, sort of,” Jaskier says. “I’m a student.” Then abruptly he wonders how much Geralt knows about who he’s supposed to be, and he swallows, pulse racing.

Glancing over, Geralt’s yellow eyes meet his. There’s no obvious doubt there, just a curiosity. “What’s your major?”

“Poetry,” Jaskier grins as their conversation starts to pick up something resembling a rhythm. “What about you, are you in school?”

“No,” says Geralt, cutting his dreams of a normal date conversation short. “Are you any good? At writing poetry?”

What a weirdo. Jaskier’s heart thrums. “I’d like to think so!” This, at least, is something he knows how to talk about. Except, of course, it isn’t really the truth. “Well… recently, I’ve been in a bit of a creative rut. Just waiting for the right burst of inspiration to come along.” Perhaps this blind date that he’s stolen will suffice, but he doesn’t say that. “This place is great for that, actually. I mean, it hasn’t worked yet, but I’m sure any day those fish will sing for me.”

Geralt blinks. Jaskier feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck. He tries a different tactic, crossing his ankles and asking politely, “Are you a reader? What kind of things do you enjoy?”

“Nonfiction,” Geralt answers, slightly stilted. His gaze drifts over to the plants once more. “Not biographies, more like… encyclopedias and field journals. I like field journals.”

“Alright,” Jaskier says, shrinking into himself. This is going terribly. “I’ll have to go bribe some scientists for their field journals, then.” The corner of Geralt’s lip twitches, and Jaskier’s stomach flips. Gorgeous and weird and maybe, although he’s trying his best to hide it behind seven layers of nerves, maybe a little amused by Jaskier. Jaskier is going to fuck him right here in the garden. “Do you take journals of your own for work?”

A rather roundabout way of asking ‘what the fuck is it that you do’ but somehow, it lands. “I’m a… researcher,” Geralt mumbles. How very vague. “But I don’t publish my findings very often.”

Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “Do you work… for a company?”

“No.”

“Right. So you’re just keeping all your findings to yourself for no good reason at all.”

“No.”

“Then it sounds like you’re a pretty terrible researcher, actually.”

Geralt’s eyes flash as he turns to glare at Jaskier. “What?”

“Well, if you don’t share what you’ve found with anyone—”

“My… colleagues—”

“Aha! So you have colleagues!” Jaskier pokes Geralt’s side. “You aren’t just holed up in some depressing storage unit with months and months of research just for you.”

Once more, Geralt half-smirks. Not even half— more like a one-fifth smirk. “Years,” he admits.

“Years…” Jaskier tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “Why do I have the feeling that you’re perhaps a significant number of years older than me?”

“I had the same thought when I saw you sitting here,” Geralt mumbles.

Jaskier snorts. “Seems like something Yennefer should have warned us about, perhaps. I would ask you directly how old you are, but I’m fairly certain that the only response I will get is a very gruff no.”

“No,” says Geralt, nearly smiling.

Making a show of pouting, Jaskier folds his arms over his chest. “Is that your favorite word?”

“No.” Geralt breaks into laughter as he repeats himself, and his whole face lights up with it. Jaskier laughs too, delighted by how joyous Geralt looks. He’s even more beautiful when he’s happy like this, and Jaskier wants very badly for this not to be their last date. “If I tell you my favorite word, you’re bound to judge me for it, as a poet.”

“As a poet, I swear not to mock you,” Jaskier raises his hand to cover his heart, barely restraining himself from grinning.

But before Geralt can share whatever it is, someone else approaches their bench. A second stranger— a woman about his height with short brown hair, wearing a pretty blouse. Jaskier notices her much more quickly than he’d noticed Geralt, and he makes the connection instantly. This can’t possibly end well.

“Oh, Yen wasn’t kidding,” says the stranger, eyeing Geralt. “You are very distinctive!”

Geralt stares back at her, slack-jawed for a moment. “What?”

“I’m Renfri,” Geralt’s date introduces herself. Jaskier wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole, especially when she glances over at him. Her gaze slides back to Geralt, as does Jaskier’s, and yeah, he is very fucking distinctive with that white hair and those yellow eyes. Damn. “My friend Yennefer set us up for a blind date…?”

As Jaskier contemplates throwing himself into the koi pond, Geralt twists to stare at him. Jaskier can only imagine how mortified he must look right now; his face burns as both Renfri and Geralt look his way. Perhaps Renfri will figure it out before Geralt says anything; she looks like a smart woman.

But Geralt just gets up, dusting himself off and shaking his head. “No,” he tells Renfri, which would almost be funny if it weren’t the weirdest thing Jaskier has ever seen anyone do. Then Geralt leaves, turning to walk away from both of them, leaving Jaskier and Renfri alone together in the garden. Renfri frowns, watching him go with obvious increasing confusion. Jaskier also jumps to his feet, equally confused but determined not to lose sight of Geralt.

He chases the man— and it does feel like a chase, Geralt must be fucking speed-walking away— and finally tracks him down well outside the garden. Geralt is thundering down a set of stairs leading to a parking lot and he doesn’t stop at the sound of Jaskier careening towards him. Only when Jaskier desperately calls his name does he finally stop, slowing until he reaches the bottom landing and then standing there, still.

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier calls down the stairs, breathless. He begins to descend them but Geralt doesn’t turn around. “Fuck, you’re fast! Shit. I’m sorry, Geralt.”

Without looking his way, Geralt complains, so quietly that Jaskier nearly misses it, “Yennefer is going to kill me.”

“I would have fucked off,” Jaskier says quickly, hurrying down the rest of the steps until he gets to the bottom. Geralt still doesn’t look at him so Jaskier slides none-too-gracefully into his space, demanding his attention. He’s hardly red in the face or anything, but he looks embarrassed. Jaskier crumbles. “I’m sorry. I— seriously, I don’t care, I would have fucked off. I should’ve left, I should’ve— You should go back there, she’s beautiful!”

Geralt’s nostrils flare but he doesn’t look away. “Why did you lie,” he demands, flat.

“Well,” Jaskier deflates. “Um. You’re beautiful.”

“Hmm.”

“I really am sorry,” he offers.

Geralt, still watching him closely, says, “You don’t sound sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jaskier throws his hands in the air, breaking away from Geralt’s stare— in the greenhouse, surrounded by bright lights and open, manmade nature, it had been easy to sit under the weight of Geralt’s eyes on him. Down here, at the end of a staircase and the entrance to a dark garage, chest still heaving, it feels too intimate. He puts some distance between them, sighing. “You want me to go back there and explain the whole situation to poor Renfri?”

When Jaskier finally turns around again, Geralt’s gaze hasn’t left him. “I want you to come have dinner with me instead,” he says, slowly but purposefully.

“Oh,” breathes Jaskier. “That’s— well, if you want that.”

“I already made a reservation for two. My name’s on the list.” Geralt is fidgeting with the end of his sleeve at first but when he approaches Jaskier he drops it, striding forward without hesitating. “Table for Geralt and one young brunet friend of Yennefer’s.”

Jaskier chokes on his own surprised laugh. “I don’t actually know Yennefer,” he needlessly explains.

“She’s going to hate you,” says Geralt, half-smirking, and then he adds, “Well, she’ll hate both of us now.”

They get to the restaurant twenty minutes late, Geralt’s hair mussed up and lips a bitten red and Jaskier wearing his backpack and a shit-eating grin. The host sees them and immediately tells them their table has been cancelled, and they end up getting terrible two-dollar slices from a hole-in-the-wall pizza place. They eat on the way back to Geralt’s car and then he drives Jaskier back to campus, kissing him soundly in the door to his apartment until Priscilla comes home and yells at Jaskier to get a room. As they squabble Geralt apologizes, polite and nervous, and kisses Jaskier’s cheek and tells him it was nice to meet him.

Jaskier goes inside and spends the next thirteen hours writing the best poetry he will ever write.

#my writing #geraskier fic #geraskier #flash fic challenge #events

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otterskin · 3 years

Text

I didn't like the LOKI show, no matter how hard I try, and it's messing with me.

My mother died at the end of December. A lot of other bad things happened as well, like the severe brain injury of my father.

I didn't cry. There was so much to do. I did it. And even then, when there was nothing left to do, I didn't cry.

I found distractions.

Today I went to see the Green Knight after a tough week at a new job that had me leave my father in another province even though he still needs help. I was trying to get back to the life I'd dropped.

I loved the Green Knight. The Arthurian Legends are as dear to me as Norse Mythology, and my copy of them had the Green Knight on the cover. The film was truly excellent, evoking the feel of the story whole still doing something unique and very A24. I cried at one point, like I did when watching the first THOR, because of how much it meant to see something I'd loved since the very first years of my existence finally make it to the big screen and be...right. It's own thing, it's own artistic product, but right.

Then I opened a tab in a browser and saw I had some messages on a website I comment on. It was just some minor criticism of the LOKI show I'd posted beneath an article and how it handled certain things.

I was downvoted. Berated. Hated. Lumped in the ad hominem twitter users who attacked the director and writer (I'd never, ever!) Told I was biphobic because I wanted to see more of a queer lens (I even addressed how difficult it is for bi people in queer cinema and society in general in my criticisms of the romance, but even that wasn't good enough - just disliking it was 'bad'.) I was told I just wanted my 'fanfic' made (I never made any laundrylist of plot points I demanded). I was accused of being a begrudged shipper (ha! If anything I'm an anti-shipper). I was told that I should love the show, it was awesome, and I was bad for not thinking so.

And I started to cry.

I don't cry. Only at movies. Not at real life. I didn't cry at my grandparents's funerals, I didn't cry when I was left with the body of my mother in the hospital room and my brother cried on my shoulder. I didn't cry when working through my dad's severe new disabilities as I realized how much he had lost. I didn't cry while realizing how messy my parents' finances were. I didn't cry when my mother's friends called me in the middle of the night and cried into the phone. I didn't cry when saying goodbye to my dog and going back to a rundown apartment with a terrible smell so I could go to work in a dark room for hours at a time.

But now I'm crying and writing this.

I've realized why. During everything, I looked forward to the LOKI show. The first THOR is deeply nostalgic to me and I watched it often in my first year of Uni when I was away from home. It tied in thematically to what I was going for. Thor 2 came out before I went on exchange, and while I disliked it overall, talking about it was a welcome distraction from my anxieties. Thor 3 was nerve-wracking, but it also came out during my first major job which I was struggling with, and I saw it so many times in theatres...it was such a huge comfort.

Looking forward to LOKI wasn't just a distraction. It was like a promise. A promise that I'd make it till then and see it and maybe it'd give me some comfort.

That's on me. That's a personal thing. It's an unreasonable expectation.

But I needed it, all the same.

Then it came out.

I tried. I really tried to like it, to forgive it, but the problems are things I've criticized for too long in so many other things. I always try to be respectful about, I never go ad hominem and attack the creators, only critique their work and I always mentioned what I liked but...

I didn't like it.

I have no urge to rewatch it.

And the Green Knight...the Green Knight was everything I wanted and needed it to be. It didn't let me down, though I've been anticipating it about as long as the LOKI show. They're very different, obviously, but in my heart they share the same compartment.

And after a very trying day...I realized how badly I needed to rewatch a Loki show I liked. But I can't even enjoy THOR or Thor:Ragnarok anymore. It's like everything I did like has been poisoned.

This thing that got me through immense pain is causing me pain. I don't want to be toxic. I'm sure it's in me. I try so hard not to wallow in disappointment, but to not even be allowed to talk about my problems without being lumped in with abusive online monsters...

I can't do it. I just can't.

This is supposed to be an escape, not another trial.

I needed the LOKI show to be good, so I could come out of the dark into the light, or at least walk through the night with a lantern ahead of me. And instead it was just more darkness, and it's not even entirely its own fault. It's the online discourse. It's the uncalled for harassment of Herron and Waldron. It's the taunting jabs at people who didn't have a good time as if we're all jerks. It's having people roll their eyes when you point out things that made you uncomfortable in the story, it's feeling slightly gaslit when you find something gross that the story intended to be gross and then being told it's not gross, actually.

I'm sorry. I don't want to cause pain. I just...

I needed it to be good. And unlike Thor 3, which delivered me respite in a dark time...it let me down. Worse, it's hurt me.

I said I don't cry, only at the movies. Something about them lets me cry in a way nothing else does. I can't cry at a funeral, but I can cry in a movie theatre at the drop of a hat. It's a release valve, a way for me to process things.

I think I was waiting for LOKI to give me permission to cry. To give me something that could release this pain in me. And instead, it just gave me more.

I never should have given it that power. I didn't want to. But I had to, to get through this.

I'm putting away the few THOR pieces of tat I have. I feel foolish. I always knew it was a capitalist piece of art, chucked from creator to creator with no creative shepherd, which in itself was stressful.

The fandom is no sanctuary for me either, since I'm primarily interested in the family dynamics and I'm sick of 'Odin is an ABUSIVE MONSTER' stories or even unrelated fics and posts just dropping in hate for him that's not at all canon but seems to be very popular to the point where people think it is. Especially since I often read these stories when I need to think of home and my father. Or, most pleasantly of all, when I get called an abuser or abuser-enabler because I say I like Odin as a character. I also can't really bear to deal with anything to do with Sylvie, whom I had high hopes for as someone who wants more female tricksters, but instead I got this...this Mary Sue that's very hard to criticize without being yelled at. I swear I'm coming at her writing as a feminist and I don't hate anyone, I don't, I just...sigh. She's just personally frustrating to me and not being able to discuss it without being called names sucks.

Not to mention I'm asexual, and I always struggle with romance in media being pushed as the 'ultimate relationship more important than any other'. Part of the reason I liked THOR so much was that romance was not the main feature of THOR and definitely not THOR 3 (while my disliked Dark World was all about it, and so is LOKI). And when I criticize the romance, I get called a prude (guilty, I guess), a troll, or, my favourite, just 'a hater'.

I don't want to hate. Who wants that poison in their veins? I'm here because the Thor series HELPED me because I LOVED it. And now I look at the things I used to love and I...don't, anymore.

So much is asked of me right now. I can't willingly invite this painful thing to sit on my chest as well, especially since the world is already shoving it into my face without my doing anything, in ads, in news, in everything.

I suppose that's why I've leaned even more into Odin lately. He was untouched by the LOKI series (though not the Simpson special, which worries me). He's a trickster, he's queer, he's nuanced, he's 'misunderstood' (that old cliche, but he's misunderstood and misrepresented by the people always yelling about how this or that character is misunderstood, which amuses me, except when it gets to me), and he's in many ways free to make my own.

I still have some stuff I'm going to publish that's practically finished. Finnesang has a lot more written for it but needs some major sit-down time for re-writes and edits. Lokabrenna is practically done, just needs tweaks and Beta. I'll be here a little longer.

But I think I'm going to have to step back for now and put my passions into other things.

I will be back. After all, after Thor 2 came Thor 3. Maybe Love and Thunder will right the ship and Thor can still be awesome, and maybe eventually a creative I love will come to work on the franchise. Really, that's the key for me - I loved Branagh before THOR, and loved Waititi before Thor, and disliked Waldron's work (though I gave him every benefit of the doubt and hoped and prayed to be wrong - sadly, it was what I expected.)

But...if LOKI season 2 is more of this, more romantic tropes I hate and Loki being an afterthought in his own show and his family being devalued for new characters...I can't do it. I can't watch something I used to love just throw that all away for something I dislike.

My tears are finally drying. I wrote a lot of this while the screen was blurry, so I hope there's no grammar or typo too embarrasing. I'm not sure I have the strength to re-read it. Sorry for the rant. It helped me feel better.

Thank you all. I hope I feel differently someday.

#loki show #loki 2021 #meta #loki thoughts #personal #update

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bcbyteeth · 1 year

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ROMAN'S WANTED CONNECTIONS | I know my faults but I can't live without them.

PLATONIC

THE ARCHER: WHO COULD EVER LEAVE ME, DARLING, BUT WHO COULD STAY? Roman and this ex have been on and off since he arrived in town, making them not a high school sweetheart but rather the cuts and bruises of adolescence. It's a familiar fall, and they know just how to make the other hurt as they do to make them feel better.

MR. & MRS. AMERICANA: PLAY STUPID GAMES YOU WIN STUPID PRIZES. Roman's been around socialites his whole life preaching as patrons of the arts. This patron in particular he's gotten close to for more than just investing in the dance company, but in himself.

MIDNIGHT RAIN: THEY WANTED COMFORTABLE I WANTED THAT PAIN. this muse knows about roman's addiction to the adrenaline off stage, and in turn the risk he runs more than ever beyond his dedication to his craft. They don't scold him, but rather, look for a way to convince him by breaking down his justification. they might be the only person that understands

THE QUESTION: BIG CITY, WRONG CHOICES. It's a sacrificial kind of addiction between them, one between bodies that they've hidden for the sake of avoiding looks or a scolding. You guessed it, this is an unrequited lust kind of connection. This is the one person who wants Roman for just his body and nothing more, and the same goes for him. There's no give and no take beyond what happens for a single night.

FRIENDSHIP

THE HAUNTED CORNER: YOU LEFT ME NO CHOICE BUT TO STAY HERE FOREVER. Roman's pushed as much people away as he's brought them close, but this muse remains loyal to every shake of his tilted stage. They're the ones who know about his injury, and are quite possibly the ones responsible for insisting he need help instead of suffering to do better.

THE KEEPER: I PEAKED AT SEVEN. This one of the few friends Roman's avoided souring since he moved to Los Angeles on his own. He's confided in them every fear, break, pride, and excitement without ever making it more or less. They know of every downfall and could very much be it had these two not had a loyalty to each other now woven in their bones.

THE GETAWAY CAR: THE TIES WERE BLACK, THE LIES WERE WHITE. Roman and this muse are a bad influence on each other in the sense that they continue to enable every single poor decision ten fold. They allow Roman's justification as he does with them, but more importantly, they're the place Roman can run to in order to hide from the consequences of his actions. Let's just hope they have enough alcohol to drink and spare to clean out a wound.

ENEMIES

THE CASUAL CRUELTY: SO CASUALLY CRUEL IN THE NAME OF BEING HONEST. This muse works in the same industry as Roman, and it's cut throat. They're often paired together for productions are they're both the principal dancers for their company. Competition goes back and forth from their contrasting backgrounds.

OTHER

THE USER: I'LL BE USING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. This muse knows Roman solely from their shared time at the gatherings were people fight for the sake of pay and bets. They've come to bid on roman more than once, to the point that roman's begun to align their best fights to their favor.

THE ANTI-HERO: OLDER BUT NEVER WISER. This muse and roman are familiar at the fight club, but also by how many times Roman's taken the fight away from underground ruleless burrows. They don't even perceive the other until there's alcohol numbing their senses, and they have at it all the time.

THE EPIPHANY: JUST A SINGLE GLIMPSE OF RELIEF. This muse is in the medical field and has a direct link to Roman's care and rehabilitation regarding his surgery. I was risky, but proven to be an exceptional surgery that even gave their career a boost. It's a shame their work will be ruined by his stubbornness to let his career in dance die.

THE CRUEL SUMMER: DEVILS ROLL THE DICE, ANGELS ROLL THEIR EYES. As a dancer, many of Roman's job opportunities take him off the stage. He's worked in music videos, as a model for certain campaigns, and even been lent by his company to walk in whatever fashion show will once again link fame and fortune to their theatre and productions. He's a pawn to his core, no matter how much he swears he is in control. This is a connection for the band/musician he's worked with, photographers, models, actor, and anyone else in the LA scene that gets you printed or on a screen.

GENERAL IDEAS

Hook ups, one night stands

People he's gotten into bar fights with

Patrons of the theatre his company keeps most of their productions

Frequent audience members of the ballet shows

Co-workers in other industries such as costume design, choreographers, musicians

Those he parties with

People he's wronged, such as childhood based enemies because he was a little shit and 10/10 slept with your girlfriend and boyfriend

Former roommates

People he's worked with in New York

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uhhhhyandere · 3 years

Text

halloween special!

hi everyone!!!!

for halloween this year, inspiration struck and i decided to craft this halloween special demon/angel light au! i had so so much fun writing this and hope yall enjoy it!!!

no matter where you are in the world, if you celebrate halloween or not, i hope you all are doing amazing and know that you are so so loved (by me) and thank you all for the love and support you give! i love every single one of y’all and let’s finish out the year the best we can!!!!

word count: 7.2k

And He will bring hell with him.

The grass will gray, and the trees will blanket with ash as all life is left withered, limp, and colorless in his wake. He takes, and takes, and takes with the full red moon on his back and the stars glittering on his lips in golden lies. Should his, Kira's eyes, red with ire from his unattained vision, seek you out, you are bound to the pits of hell itself for eternity.

"Well, that's what the tale says," Misa said. "If you believe in that kinda stuff." She flipped the book over to display the illustrations. You leaned over to get a closer look. "They really have to make evil people this beautiful, huh?" You looked at her incredulously. "What? You're thinking the same thing! I just said it…" Her eyes trailed down to the pages again.

"He was a mortal once?" Misa nodded her head and adjusted herself on the sofa for you to scootch closer. Her red manicured nails slipped the page over to the next.

"Who tried to be a god." You squinted down at the new page and pointed.

"She kinda looks like you." She laughed.

"Just wait," Misa replied. "Anyway, he was young, a few years below us, when he came across the power to make him a god. He was not chosen nor special. The power was left to be picked up by any traveler. It just so handed to be dropped outside of his family's farm, and he just so happened to be who he was. An ambitious genius with the same hunger for power the poor have for food. He used this power to rise above all others and to kill any who dared step in his way." Tragic art painted the pages as Misa continued to flip through them.

"How?" Misa shook her head.

"They don't know. We don't know. A creature crueler than Kira. A bored god looking to stir trouble. A blessing that was used as a curse. Perhaps all. Perhaps none." She giggled. "Exciting, isn't it?" You scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep going."

"But he had enemies. No mortal man should wield what Kira wielded. Those who wanted to strip him of his power and deliver justice to those he had ridden of, not grasp the power, the golden throne, he sought. They played games with one another. Cruel, cunning games of who would outsmart the other. He who was supposed to condemn his power and he who had it used the same means to win.

"Us. Regular people used and thrown away to further their game. There was one," she pointed at the girl who resembled herself, "who picked up the same power as he. It was her who tried to love him, that bent at his word, that carried out his will." Misa swallowed, "but he had lost his ability to love, or that's what was thought until..." Misa cut herself off.

"Kira and his nemesis continued to use, to manipulate the very ground the other walked on. All until he finally stood at the foot of the throne of the world he thirsted for. Pristine and shining, it stood above the clouds themselves. This is where he was slain, where his blood stained the stone, the rug, the throne, infecting and cursing them. The throne cracked, contorted, twisted, and fell. Down, down it fell until he and the now blackened throne were in hell.

"One day, when the full moon shines on the bleeding night, he will rise, and he will bring hell with him. He will claim what he has lost to reign over the world of men. The grass will gray, and the trees will blanket with ash as all life is left withered, limp, and—,"

"I know that much," you interrupted, "but I'm confused. Did you leave a part out? Where you cut yourself off, I mean." White teeth dragged across her lip.

"After," she started to rapidly flip the pages, "after he was banished to hell, they found…" Her flipping stopped at the very last page, "this."

On the page was a cage with gnarled black metal and a large gash across the bars. A human whose arms crosses on their chest in an 'X.' Their feet were bound together and tied with rope to the middle's central support pole. Blood trickled down their face, torso, and legs. Beautiful, broken, ripped wings crumpled at their back. "He had stolen an angel. Broken them. Claimed them. Upon their back, scars from where he had failed to rip them off their back." She hummed. "Kinda looks like you."

You laughed nervously then scoffed, trying to get the haunted picture out of your brain. "Should his eyes, red with ire from his unattained vision, seek you out, you are bound to the pits of hell itself for eternity because you are who he has lost, and he will not fail again.

"But that's just how it goes!" Misa laughed good-naturedly and shut the book harshly. "Pretty scary, right?" You shook your head.

"Absolutely not. First, it's actually pretty disturbing. Secondly, it's so vague! No details on how he died, if the other guy killed him. You'd think after eons of repetition, they'd make stuff up." Misa shook her head.

"Yeah, if you ask a bard, but do you really want to hear a romanticization of it in a song where they talk about how he loved whom he locked away and claimed? They do not sing about the reality, for it is far too gruesome for even documentation, much less for song. At least, that's what Rem told me. Being vague is the only option to make it tolerable, but I think she actually knows the truth and won't spill." You laughed and rose from the library's sofa. "So? It's my favorite story."

"That's because that girl looks like you."

"And?" You clicked your tongue.

"I dunno. I did say it was disturbing, but you don't really believe in this kinda stuff, right?" You scratched the back of your head.

"Of course, I do!" She giggled. "Ever since Rem took me in and taught me to read, it's been my favorite book." How could you forget what an oddball Misa was? You sighed.

"Alright, believe what you want. Halloween is the day after tomorrow, after all. Be as spooky as you want." Misa rose and slipped the leather-bound book back into her bag. "Are you stealing that?" You harshly whispered. She shook her head.

"Nope! It's Rem's." Oh, gee.

"I'd rather steal from the library—which has free books—a concept I just remembered for some reason than Rem. Do you have a death wish? Nevermind, don't answer that. Why did you make me come to the library again?"

"Isn't this where people read?

"...You're right. I got nothing. Come on. I need to get back to the market. I promised my parents I would pick up the pumpkins Mello grew and carved. Apparently, people are putting lights in them to make the faces glow at night."

Your village was reasonably large, set on the misty hillside of the mountain. Though the nearest city where the Earl of the region lived was a few miles down the path and knights on horses frequented here on their patrols, your village felt world's away from society. It was also relatively famous for the chapel, so travelers often stopped to visit, especially with the holiday season.

It rested closest to where the cliff dropped into nothingness. Flowers surrounded it, and moss grew up its stone walls. Vivid glass windows decorated all sides and around the wooden doors. A tower ascended from the front to where a millennial old bell sat still for just as long, for it was only to ring when the world was set to end.

Within, pews lined the plush red rug. The rug ran straight to the golden altar, where a large statue stood behind. The stained glass filtered color light upon its flawless, stone complexion. Water poured from the few holes in the body down into the small pond around it.

"Are we going to meet on Halloween?" Misa asked. "You know it's my favorite holiday! Everyone will be on the square dancing and dressed up!" You smiled.

"Of course. You know my parents would not miss a party. We can meet on my porch since it's closer?" She nodded enthusiastically,

"Yes! That sounds perfect! See you then!" The blonde blew you a kiss and skipped in the direction of her house. You smiled before turning on your heel and approaching the square.

Of course, the market would be busy with both locals and travelers. It was mid-day, and each stand had its unique, limited-time holiday goods. You had to squeeze your way to make it to Mello's stand. The blonde grimaced as you approached. Ah. He's in a good mood!

"Afternoon, Mello."

"Y/N," he regarded you. "You're really going to buy a pumpkin with a scary face? Would it really go with your garden?" You scoffed.

"It's my parents, actually, and yes! I can be scary and festive! Not as good as you, Mello. I heard that you carved lots of pumpkins for the village." He hummed and motioned to those on the wooden stand.

"Not for the village," he replied. "You still have to pay, got it?" You rose your hands.

"Of course, of course." You began to browse the selection. "Will you be attending the festivities night of?" He scoffed.

"No. Now pick your poison or leave." You smiled and reached for one with a broad crooked smile. "Terrible taste." You furrowed your brows.

"...But you're the one who made it?" Mello's eyes widened for a second before narrowing once more.

"It's one of my worse ones. I guess it'll go well with you, then." You laughed and rubbed the carved circle around the stem with your hand.

"Yep! Sounds good, Mello." You reached into your pockets and dropped a few coins in front of him. "Keep the change. Happy Halloween!" Mello snatched the coins from the table and shooed you off. You morphed back into the crowd, maneuvering your way through the group back to your house.

An abrupt, intense headache wracked your skull, causing you to suddenly stop amid the crowd and wince, nearly dropping the pumpkin under your arm. With your free hand, you grasped your forehead, but the pain only escalated and pulsed down your body. Two particularly intense strands of pain erupted on your back.

Peeking up, the crowd blurred around you, but your eyes on a figure at the corner of the inn. He was too far to make out the intimate details besides his lithe frame and brown hair. For moments you locked eyes before he disappeared behind the inn.

The pain stopped as if it was an illusion. You snapped back into reality, chest heaving in relief. A few eyes looked at you in concern, but no one stopped to ask. Thankfully so. You wouldn't know what to tell them if they asked what happened.

Shaking your head, you safely made it to your small house hidden behind a large oak tree.

"Oh! You got the pumpkin! How was Mello?"

"Charming as ever, of course. I was just with Misa at the library before that. She told me the story about Kira and his fall to hell." Your mom nodded her head and took the pumpkin from your arm.

"Ah, that's an old one. I guess she's always been the type to be into that stuff. It freaks me out, personally." You followed your mom to the kitchen.

"Yeah, me too. I try to remind myself it's not real, but there's also the small tick in the back of my brain that tells me it may be, you know?" She nodded again.

"Oh, I like this carving! Nice choice, Y/N, but yes, I do that too. Especially since Halloween, this year, is on the full blood moon. An ill omen in all tales. Luckily the town's party rids my mind of such horrors, as should yours. Anything else happen today?" You paused.

"N-no. Nothing comes to mind. I think I'm going to go find father then wash up before dinner. Is he still in the forest?" Your mom nodded.

"Yep. He's been hunting that same deer for weeks now. Apparently, it has a rack of the like he has never seen before. Something of beauty. I think he doesn't even want to kill it as much as he wants to see it again." Your dad was somewhat of a conundrum. As much as he awed and loved nature, he was a hunter who made income on the sale of its pelts and horns. "I'm sure he hasn't found it yet. Maybe you can help."

Unlikely, but you liked to explore the misty pines surrounding your village. They were too safe and had a few secret spots where hollowed logs led to hidden clear ponds. Wishing your mom farewell, you entered the pines and inhaled their thick scent.

Your dad's job was handy in that you knew the backwoods like the back of your hand. He taught you the ways to track and navigate through the seemingly identical trunks.

He also unknowingly taught you to sense when something was off with the forest. After ten minutes of traversing, you finally had the feeling of dread. The mist was inches too low, the grass droplets too wet, and the temperature degrees too low. You held your breath and glanced at your surroundings.

A silhouette. A deer's head with a rack so vertically high you thought your eyesight was failing you. Except, as you stepped closer, this deer had the body of a man standing upon his two legs. Large hollow eyes oozed mist.

"..." something was whispered into the air. You continued to hold your breath. "...—/N." The deer-man gave no indication of moving, and you could not bring your feet to even wiggle the frost from your toes. "Y/N."

Your name. Crystal clear. Your breath hitched. His hand with long, natural claws extended forwards towards you. "Y/N," it repeated. "You mus—....—ere. No t—." You could not make out his words.

"Y/N!" Another yell. This time you recognized it as your father. Eyes blown open, you wretched your eyes from the deer-man and sprinted towards the voice of your father.

"I'm...sorry."

…

"You're not telling us everything." Your father accused. After you ran head-first into your father, petrified and stumbling over every word, he urged you home and waited for you to take the bath you begged them to allow you to have before sitting you in the sitting room, the fire roaring under the holiday wreath behind you.

'It just scared me. I've never seen a bear of its size." Why are you lying? You had no idea. As soon as your mom asked the first questions, lies flowed out of your mouth like the truth. Stories you naturally never could have conjured on the spot. Stories you would never because you did not lie, which is why your parents, despite their dubious expressions, did believe you. "I swear. I just got freaked out. I think it's because of the story Misa told me today."

"That girl," your dad muttered.

"She told them the story of the man who fell to hell. Kira." Your dad nodded and rubbed his chin with his hand.

"Ah, I see. That would do it. Y/N, I know the full blood moon is coming, but there's no need to fret. Stories are just stories, alright? Leave your candlelight on tonight should you be scared of the dark, alright? Me and your mom are in the room over, alright?" You nodded. "Good. Now, what's for dinner?"

…

You lit the candle that night. In your nightwear, you sat on the edge of the bed. Muffled moonlight streamed through the frosted window and reflected off the full-length mirror in the corner. You inhaled deeply through your nose and exhaled through your mouth.

"They're just stories. Just stories." Like a mantra, you repeated this under your breath as you ducked under the covers. Opening your eyes, though, you were met with a flash of shadow in the mirror. You jumped and stared at it with eyes open enough to feel the cold air. You waited for something in the still room to move, for it to flash again, but nothing did. Thankfully.

Still, you threw the blanket off of yourself and approached to assure yourself that yes, it was nothing, and yes, there was nothing: just your reflection and the room behind you.

Until you blinked.

For a second, blood poured down your body and wetted down your clothes against your figure—wings broken and limp behind your back.

You screamed and smashed the mirror with your fist on impulse. Along with the shards, your body fell to the ground, and actual bloodied hands kept you from collapsing entirely. However, the features in the fragments were not yours. The man, the one from the square, stared back, but at this closer view, you can see his eyes.

Red.

You threw yourself back against the wall and screamed. Your door busted open, and your parents barged in. Your mother ran to your side and took your hand in hers while your father took in the big picture around him.

"I-I thought I saw something in the mirror. Misa told me once the m-mirror is the passage to the other world. I-I know it's stupid for me to react like this, but I just… I don't know. Do you think it's the blood moon?" Your parents were quiet.

'It could be," your mother said. "The blood moon is supposed to come with magic. It enables beings to crossover from other worlds, from other planes. It is the ill omen, but crossing over is all they can do. They can't touch you or hurt you. That, I promise." You nodded.

Your parents stayed with you, and, for the first time since you were literally a toddler, you slept in their room, blankets wrapped around you on their floor. Relief flooded your system when sunlight broke through the window. Though your sleep was haunted by vague images and muddled whispers, you slept through the night after the incident.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Your dad asked. "You can skip your daily chores if you don't want to do them. Tomorrow too. Aren't I generous?" You laughed but shook your head no.

"That's alright. I think if I stay home, I'll just keep thinking about it. I need to get my mind off of it. Doing chores will put my mind at ease. Some normalcy, I think." Your dad nodded, though you can tell your parents weren't eager to just forget the events of last night.

You knew someone, though, that would be eager to learn about them.

"Misa, can you keep a secret?" She bit into an apple.

"No," she replied simply. "I tell Rem everything, but that's it. I don't really talk to many other people here besides you and her, so no one else to tell, but I know Rem will mind her business. She talks to fewer people than I do." That was true. You could count the number of times you talked to Rem on a single hand, and Misa said she liked you.

"Okay, don't freak out, but…"

She freaked out.

"And they were red?" You nodded.

"Glowing. A sinister smirk on his face. His hands in the reflection, touching my own through the glass. It was the same as the one I saw in the square right after we met." Misa's eyes widened in enthusiasm and jubilation.

"It's him! It has to be! Kira!" You shook your head.

"No, my mom explained it to me. It's a spirit from the other plane playing a joke on me. She told me that after I stopped crying and fled to their room before I passed out. That story isn't real. It… can't be." Misa shook her head and leaned forward.

"It is! It's not that you don't believe it's real; it's that you don't want to believe it's real! Y/N, you have to believe me." You grimaced and backed away to create some breathing room.

"Why would I want it to be real?" You whispered solemnly. "Why would I want that to happen to me? I can't believe it's real. It can't be real. I'm terrified if it is real, okay? If my parents think it's real because I do, they'll tell the church, and if the church finds out? You know how they deal with spiritual trespassers and those they possess. I'd basically be dead. My soul stripped from my being to ensure I do not bring harm to anyone else. I would be a hollow body, Misa! Don't you get that!?" You inhaled a ragged breath.

"...Has anything happened today?" You shook your head. "It's already almost sunset, so that's a good sign, at least. Sorry, I got too excited. Your feelings and safety are important. Okay, I promise I won't tell a soul about this." You breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank you. I just… don't know what to do."

"Have you gone to the chapel? The water from the statue is supposed to cure any possession." You shook your head. "Okay! I think I know your next steps, then. Come on!" She stood abruptly from the bench and held out her hands. "Let's go!"

She dragged you across the diameter of town until your footsteps echoed across the chamber. A few holy people greeted you as they did their duties. Some travelers prayed at the pews for good luck and well-being. A single man stood next to the pond where the statue stood.

"Greetings," he welcomed. "I recognize you two from town, but I don't believe we've met. My name is Soichiro. Are you here to drink from the spring?" Misa nudged you forward.

"Y-yes. Oh, I'm Y/N." He nodded.

"I see. Does the blood moon have you nervous? Don't worry. Lots of people come to do the same before a blood moon. Come and cup your hands and drink the water. Any disease in your soul shall be healed." You lowered yourself down to your knees and cupped the crisp water between your palms. You lowered yourself to sip, and you swallowed.

But it would not go down.

You began to cough, and your body convulsed with coughs. Liquid did come from your mouth, but the drops upon the ground were not clear, but a vicious red. Soichiro yelled for the other holy people as your body shook and twisted. Ropes bound your wrists, and hands steadied your head—arms wrapped around your waist to keep you as still as possible. A man placed his palm on your forehead and whispered incomprehensible words. When he finished, he ripped his hand away, and your breath was restored. You were unable to fall with the tight grip they still had on you.

"W-what happened?" You asked, feeling the tears on your cheeks continuing to inch down and the blood drying on your chin. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry."

"Take them to the purification chamber."

"No! Please, no! Help me! Someone, please help!" It was a joint effort between numerous holy people to lift your struggling form from the ground. "Misa! Mom! Dad!" you called out for, yet, in the chapel, none of them were there. However, your screaming did not stop for them until you were placed on a large chair and gagged. Your legs were bound to the bottom of the chair, and arms rebound to the arms. Holy people circled around you.

The chair you were in was much less a chair and more so a throne. Pure white metal was attached directly to the ground. Red cushioning provided comfort to your rear and back. With ragged breaths, you looked waited until one of them spoke or did anything besides watch you. It was the man who sentenced you here that approached.

"Soichiro," someone called, but he ignored them and angled his head down towards you.

"I am going to undo your gag. Do not scream. I just want you to tell us the truth if you know anything. Sometimes… they do things without signaling a mortal." Large calloused hands undid the gag, and you inhaled greedily. "Now, tell us."

"A-are you going to take my soul?"

"Speak first. I cannot make promises I do not know if I can keep." You swallowed and explained what you could to them. Your eyes were focused on the ground. The terror you would feel if his reaction was bad was too grand for you to meet his eyes. The silence after you ended your experience was deafening. "I see." He looked to a holy person nearby. "We need twenty-four-hours to prepare for the ritual. It leaves us with little room before the blood moon rises. If we do not store their soul… go now. It is much worse than any of us could have imagined." Your heart plummeted.

"W-what? No! Please! Tell me what's going on! D-don't take my soul, please! I-I want to live! I'll run away! You'll never see me again!" Soichiro stared at you with what you hoped was empathy. The bags under his eyes spoke of his wisdom and his exhaustion. He motioned for the rest of the holy people to leave, so it was just him standing over you.

"I'm sorry, child." He spoke softly, knuckles wiping the tears flowing down your face. "No matter how far you run, no matter how fast, no matter how well you hide, no matter how you continue on: alive or dead, he will come for you. The moment you locked eyes in the mirror, you were bound to him, just as you always have been." You shook your head, vehemently.

"It's not true, is it? Kira... is he…?" Soichiro smiled sadly. "It can't be… it can't be me. It's impossible." You sobbed. "How? Please, at least tell me before… before…" You couldn't even make the words out.

"My son," he began, "was always destined for greatness, but then greatness found him, and he became too great. The power he found was a single, black notebook. Write someone's name, and they would pass. It originally is from a Shinigami, a god of death, that possessed him while he owned it, but… there are forces more potent than Shinigami in the universe. He and his opponent, the one who sought to bring the mysterious killer Kira, my son, that plagued the land to justice, who we called L, always were at a battle of wits, of plans, but, in the end, my son won.

"But this victory angered others. It was they who killed him at the throne of the world. It was they who watched him plummet to hell. It was they who built the statue in this chapel and sealed him in hell so he could never return, but they have long passed. Their magic fading in time. I could do nothing in all this time except pray to angels to keep my son at bay." He paused and looked up solemnly. "You must be wondering how I am alive," He looked down at his pale hands.

"The notebook is gone now. The Shinigami that dropped it fled back to his world when Lig- Kira, was cast down to hell. I, too, touched the notebook. A scheme my son created to get ahead. The curse of it never went away, and I am now stuck to live eternity until my son ends it." He clenched his fist. "I did not know you were so close. I did not know it was you. If I did… I would have taken your soul long before you could have known life without it." You shook your head.

"I don't understand. What is my part? The book… the book only showed a cage with… someone in it. The story has no word of them. Just the girl… the weapon that served him." Soichiro sighed.

"Back then, the plane between the mortal realm and other words was thinner when angels and spirits would roam mortal lands. You were an angel. A new one. Young. Wide-eyed and drawing silver linings wherever you walked. Someone he set to ruin. Someone with a soul so pure that he can take and twist to his own liking. No one should see you except him, so he locked you away and bound his soul to yours and your soul to his. As long as he lived, whether here or hell, you would too.

"But just your soul. Unlike me, whose mortal body is stuck, it is solely your soul that has been recycled for eons. His part, the part of his soul within you, could only be awakened should your eyes meet his. Then, with his entire soul active and with the power of the red blood moon, he will be able to break the barrier that seals him tomorrow night. We must lock away part of his power, so he cannot walk this land again.

"Should he, then he will seek to claim all that was taken from him. The mortal world will fall as we know it. Those he inevitably tricked in hell to follow him will breakthrough behind him. What the world deserves for not seeing him as the god he sees himself as." Tears pooled in Soichiro's eyes. "I still love my son. The bright-eyed boy, but he cannot love. What he feels for you is something far darker, something twisted. I do not know what he will do if he finds you. You will be better off soulless." You sobbed.

"B-but the deer-man in the woods. Do you - I mean…" He furrowed his brows and shook his head.

"I don't know, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry my son came upon you. No one deserves this fate." You wretched in your bindings, ragged breaths, and eery whines escaping your mouth. "Some will be around to feed you later, and someone… someone will explain everything to your parents.

"Let me see them!" You yelled out. "Please! One last time! They don't know anything! I just want to… please, I… I get it. Why you have to do this, but please let me say goodbye. Please. I just," you bit your bottom lip to prevent another wail, "please." Soichiro shook his head. The man could no longer maintain eye contact with you.

"I can't. We cannot risk you talking to anyone lest risk his jealousy. As far as we are concerned, you are not you. You are his." You pulled against the ropes once more. "I'm… so sorry. It is best for everyone that he does not see you with others while he is powerful enough to watch this world. I hope you never forgive me." Crestfallen, he turned his back and approached the door.

"No! Come back! Please! Don't leave me alone here! P-please! S-Soichiro!" Only the slam and locking of the door met your calls.

You don't know how long you howled and wailed, how many times it echoed back in the circular chamber to your ear. There came the point where your body could make no more tears, so you were left with pathetic dry heaves. It was then that a voice whispered in your head.

"Y/N…" It was different than the voice in the woods. It was sinister, deep, evil. You focused on anything, the floor's intricate patterns, the ceiling, the running water behind the chair, the plants around the circumference of the room, anything to not acknowledge it. "Oh, aren't you a gift wrapped up for me? Clearly my father's work. Don't ignore me, Y/N. I know your every move. I know you can hear my every word"

"F-fuck you!" You cried, and he laughed. Then, he clicked his tongue.

"Such dirty words. You're not the angel I remember, fresh out of the clouds. Ah, but there wasn't much angel left, from what I can recall. Do you feel it, Y/N? It shouldn't be long now…" For a long time, nothing happened, then, like two knives down your back, you screamed. "Ah, there it is. Those screams, I do remember. I don't care if it hurts." Blood soaked the cushion behind you and flowed down to your rear. "You brought this on yourself. This is what you deserve."

"I didn't do anything!" You writhed.

"Is that what my father told you? Is that what the story says? Oh, they couldn't be more wrong, love. You denied me what I deserve. You could have fallen to hell right with me, where you can be where you belong, but you stayed. I couldn't have you running back to the angels to live your days without me. I wouldn't allow it. If I hadn't had Mikami lock you in that cage, if I hadn't bound our souls, your grave would be in the flower fields above the clouds, but you got conceited.

"Let me remind you of something, love. You are mine. Your body, your mind, your heart, your soul, what's between your legs, it's all mine. We are bound for eternity, Y/N. There is nothing you can do about it." He got quiet just as the immediate pain receded, leaving you with intense throbs.

"You… won't get the chance," you spoke through tears. "Big talk for someone who isn't even going to breach this plane." A flash of pain sparked in your skull. He chuckled.

"Oh, Y/N. Perhaps you are just as green as you were when we met. I can't wait to feel you again. To have you watch me burn the world." Silence.

Despite your exhaustion, you could not sleep. You might as well have melted into the chair in how your body did not move a single inch, too scared to bother your wounds, and have the pain come back that is still aching. You did not want to spend your last hours unconscious. No one came to feed you.

"They're coming," he said. "They'd better be quick, then. The moon is almost up out there, after all." He groaned, and you jolted at the feeling of a cold hand on your neck.

Soichiro and a train of holy people entered the room and surrounded you. He approached your limp body and undid your bounds. You did not miss him tense, and his eyes widen at the pool of blood in the seat from your back.

'We must hurry. Any minute he will come through." Soichiro enlisted others to help him carry you back up the stairs to the altar. "Twenty four hours in the chamber has amplified their soul. It explains the marks on their back from their past life. Quick, on the altar!" The cloth was smooth against your skin as they placed you.

Movement flurried around you as different scents were sprayed, various objects were placed on the ground and on the altar around you, and foreign words were spoken around you. Fatigue racked your body. There was not a single inch of your body that you could to move.

Soichiro stood over your body. Your eyes, dead and clouded, stared up at him. In his hand was a singular, transparent, glass object. Quickly, he lifted his hand, ready to plunge it down.

A loud bang resounded in the chapel, and the glass fell with a splatter of blood. You rolled your head to the side and watched two bodies approach from the entrance. All of the holy people around you were blown limply against the walls around you. It was only when they were right above you that you recognize it was Misa and Rem.

"Rem, can you carry them? Do you still have your strength?"

"Do not worry, Misa," she replied. Long arms lifted you while Misa skipped ahead and smiled reassuringly back at you. Music filled the crisp air. Lights hanging from the trees and other ornaments swept by your visual field. You groaned and lulled your head to face Misa.

"M-Misa, no." You groaned. "He's coming." She giggled and turned around. Skipping backward, her smile widened. Behind her, the crowd gathered in the village square. Their vivid garments stuck out under the lights.

"Of course I know, silly! Rem is a Shinigami just as the one who gave Kira his power. Just like he had a notebook, I had Rem's, but it was destroyed eons ago. Still, it binds me to live eternally, just like Soichiro. Luckily, Rem's cloaking magic covered me when I've met him, or he would have spoiled it all for us!

"When I saw you, I knew it was you. No matter how you may physically change, your heart and soul are always the same. Now, he's going to return to us. He's going to spearhead the new world." She twirled her hair around her finger. "Isn't that exciting?"

You had no strength to fight in Rem's hold. Even if you did, you were unsure if you would be able to beat a Shinigami.

Eyes were drawn to you as your bloodied and weak form was carried by an almost unidentifiable figure. Gasps echoed across the crowd, the music stopping as you presumably reached the square.

"They watch helplessly," he spoke. "They know you are not theirs to touch. Soon, they will all know my power. They will all know who you belong to. Keep your eyes open, love."

"Y/N! Y/N! Move! That's our child! Move! Y/N! The desperate calls of your parents broke through the crowd, but Rem presumably pushed them far back just the holy people, scaring the public to still and part for your funeral march. You heard the sick smack of bodies against a surface. Misa hummed to herself in front of you. Your head rolling back, you met Mello's wide and helpless eyes as he stood in the crowd.

Misa led you away from the crowd and stopped at the flagpole at the village's entrance gates with the group following. Rem retied you to the base of the flagpole; your arms crossed over your chest in a familiar 'X,' legs and waist bound to the pole. Misa's settled herself next to you.

"All!" She called. "Watch as the blood moon rises behind the chapel! He who fell to hell is rising again to take what is rightfully his!" She pointed to the moon as it brilliantly glowed crimson above the chapel. Murmurs rose from the crowd, suspicious and fearful. "Watch as our god returns to the mortal realm!"

The church bell rang. Its deathly reverberations echoing in your ear. The crowd fell to silence.

"Have you missed me, love?" He spoke. "Because I have missed you."

A red beam of light erupted from the chapel, followed quickly by multiple explosions. The statue, the roof, the infrastructure all crumbling by the expanding beam of light that touched the sky, screams erupted from the crowd, and they began to scramble. You pulled with what little strength you had left, but the pole against your back seized you in pain to cease your movements.

A silhouette could be made out of the beam. Large black wings spread from his back, sharp and jagged. Hands rose above his head before he dropped down in front of the chapel submerged in flames. His shadow enraptured you, and though his shadow was mostly unclear from a distance, you could make out his eyes even from here. Slowly, he took his first step forwards.

Every needle and leaf in the trees around him fell. The grass withered all around him. Ash from the sky and littered the ground. With each step, the radius expanded until more and more life died around him. Your eyes trailed to the unconscious bodies of your parents against a tree. His zone of death stretched farther than them.

"Eyes on me."

"You're going to kill them!" You screeched. "Stop this madness at once!" You shook in your bonds. Misa was frozen next to you, eyes wide in anticipation as he approached.

"Ordering me around? Perhaps you still are conceited. I think killing them will remind you of your place, hm?" Unfortunate humans were reduced to ash in his radius. The wind blew the ashes all around him, gently lifting his brown tufts of hair. "These mortals are nothing compared to you and I. Accept me as your mate. Accept the part of your soul that is my own, and the pain will all go away. You'll be dragged down to hell, and I'll bring you right back up."

Your parent's ashes were a different color than the rest.

"You know, it's been an eternity since I've heard you call my name. Do you even remember it?" You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. The thick scent of smoke, of ash, of death, permeated the air. "Eyes on me." He was almost here. Arms extended to the side, he approached from the other side of the square now.

"Misa, we need to leave."

"No! He's here! He's finally here, Rem!"

"His aura will kill you, Misa."

"No, I won't! He won't!" Rem, at lightning speed, grabbed Misa and flew in the other direction. "No! Put me down! I'll never forgive you! Stop!" Her voice echoed until it was out of range. Your head lashed back and forth, looking for any sign of life, but there was none: just ash, dying grass, and gnarled, graying trees.

Dressed in all black, eyes blazing, teeth sharp, wings stretched, he now stood before you with the moon on his back. You pushed yourself against the pole despite the shock of pain. The grass around you died, the bugs vanishing, but you remained fine. You stared at his feet.

"Oh, love," soft fingers reached down and tilted your head up. "You're as beautiful as I remember." Black wings encircled you, so you could only see him. "Do you remember my name?" You shook your head, and he gripped your chin harder. "Do not lie to me. Say my name, Y/N. Sew the wounds of your forsaken wings and accept your place with me." His voice resounded in you. "You feel it. I know you do. I feel your pain. Your fear. I've felt every emotion your reincarnations have ever felt. Say my name." He leaned in close.

"Kira." He clicked his tongue.

"Stop resisting," he hissed. "Say my name, Y/N." His breath glided against your cheek. His hand moved to cup your jaw, and the other trailed down your waist.

"Light." It came off your lips quickly, easily, and he smiled, eyes widening with pleasure. Immediately, relief filled your physical body, your back's pain dissolving. Your head tilted back in bliss.

"Y/N," he whispered against your neck. "Finally." He inhaled your scent deeply, hand tilting your head to give him more access. He placed a small kiss against your skin. His kisses trailed upwards, along your jaw, frantic against your cheeks, nose, until he captured your lips and stole your breath.

"Oh, Y/N," he whispered against your lips. "I love you."

#light yagami x reader #light yagami x you #yandere light yagami x reader #Light Yagami #yandere death note #yandere light yagami #death note fic #x reader #reader insert #yandere reader insert #halloween special #happy halloween everyone!

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redsector-a · 3 years

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AO3 Ask Game

I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?

46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

309662 according to the stats.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.

3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.

It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?

4: Loose Lips Launch Ships

Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.

5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...

(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -

The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist* The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around. One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.

#icyredfics #writing #winterhawk #long post

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jjk-biased · 4 years

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jungkook x reader

requested by @atulipandarose (oooh soulmate/jungkook/one shot!! it's been big missing jk hours over here)

genre: fluff, soulmate au

words: 2.5k of dumb jungkook pining

warnings: none >< cussing here and there, also my first time writing just fluff so please be kind. unedited!!!

synopsis: jungkook never loved the idea of soulmates because he liked you and he wanted only you.

masterlist | events masterlist

There it was, the panging he felt in his heart even if he wasn’t the person in pain. As his chest throbbed, it was emotional pain he supposed, the song began to play in his head. He gritted his teeth, upset to have been reminded once again of the world he lived in.

The world had to be so stupid to believe in such nonsense. It was idiotic. They had to be so naive to rely on this whole scam - to the point where they even revolve their lives around it.

It isn’t true. It’s far-fetched. This whole soulmate system wasn’t reliable.

He lived in a world where the universe decided who each person’s other was. Soulmates existed. It was everywhere. And he didn’t like it one bit.

Whoever made the world like this had to be an utter idiot. Why would anyone allow something like this to take over people’s lives? This bullshit soulmate system gave people a false sense of hope that someone out of the millions and millions of people would be the only right person for you. That somehow, out of 7.5 billion people, someone would be the perfect yin to your yang.

It shouldn’t exist. Soulmates shouldn’t exist.

Come to think of it, how can the universe even be so sure that the person they have “destined” for him is the right one? And, honestly, who even gave the universe the right to choose for him?

Fuck the universe, Jeon Jungkook wanted to pick for himself.

He thought this whole sham was an inconvenience. Unlike almost every love-crazed and soulmate-addict person, he thought otherwise. Jungkook felt suffocated at the thought of being tied down to someone who he probably didn’t even like. He didn’t need whoever they had for him. He didn’t have to meet this so-called pre-destined love of his life to live happily.

Actually, he did. Or else he would forever be haunted by it. He’d go crazy.

People had different “soulmate indicators” -- basically something in their body that gave them a hint on whoever they were destined for. Namjoon, his writer friend, had a tattoo of his soulmate’s name on his collarbone. Jimin, the short friend, had a ring on his finger with the initials of his soulmate and would even change colors depending on the mood of his other. One part of Taehyung's hair is the same color as his soulmate’s, regardless if he tried to dye it along with his locks.

To say the least, theirs were easy to find, to discover - much more convenient than what the universe had in store for dear Jeon Jungkook. His had to be the most vague indicator of this whole scam.

A song.

The universe gave Jungkook one specific song that only he and his soulmate knew. Not a name, not a ring, not even a hair color. Just one fucking song.

Jeon Jungkook didn’t want to believe in this obviously fraudulent scheme that the universe set up. Despite his woes and resentment towards the system, Jungkook couldn’t exactly ignore it. The song, somehow sung by both him and the soulmate, always played in his head whenever he or the other would feel down. Somehow, it only played when any of them were sad. Not when they’re happy. Not when they’re angry. Not when they’re bored. Only when one or the other wasn’t feeling well.

But hey, at least he knew when it would start.

There would always be a pang in his chest before it began. It was akin to when the dog dies in the movie, or when someone relayed bad news, or when the character in a book had to leave. The weird feeling would be eased immediately as soon as the song played in their head. It would lull him to sleep, he guessed it held the same effect for whoever was on the other side, and would make him feel at home.

But he did not like this soulmate bullshit.

Not one bit.

Even if the song brought him great comfort. Even if it was the only thing he looked forward to when he had a bad day. Even if his soulmate’s honey-like voice blended well with his.

Wait shit, he should be hating this nonsense. Why did he just think that his soulmate sang nicely?

Fuck it. Forget what he thought. It didn’t matter anyway.

He had other things to think about anyway, especially how to gain the courage to ask his friend out.

Jungkook is currently and sadly a college student, who, aside from drowning in student debt, studies fine arts. He hopes to become a renowned artist someday, and in pursuing so, had to disobey his typical Asian parents’ wish for him to be called Dr. or Atty. someday.

Soulmate hatred aside, art had always been his passion. Despite growing into a family full of doctors, lawyers, and judges, he knew his heart belonged in fine arts. When his brother would play with the toy syringes and stethoscopes, he would be seen getting himself dirty with the washable markers. That love for coloring grew into something more, and so Jungkook decided he would become an artist in the future.

It was always so freeing for him to dabble in the blues and greens and create whatever he visualized in his mind. The pencil in his hand could easily convey the emotions he had trouble vocalizing. All of his troubles would go away faster than you can say worldwide handsome Jin-hyung with the aid of his drawing tablet. Everything about art just intrigued him. Art was easy. Art was comforting.

Art is where he felt free.

It wasn’t suffocating. Unlike his family that wanted him to be someone he couldn’t become and this soulmate shit that wanted to cuff him down to one specific person he doubts would even go well with him.

He wanted the soulmate system gone. For reasons that seemed justified to him and only him.

He could live without the incessant nagging of his very traditional family who wanted to sped things up. Jungkook would finally stop seeing some of his soulmate-less acquaintances miserable. He could finally go on with his sad day without the song that would automatically play in his head.

Wait… that last thought made him feel sad. Perhaps he would miss the song after all.

Anyway, and above all, he could finally court his cute friend without having to worry of the soulmate shabang.

Jungkook didn’t want whoever the universe paired him with. He wanted his cute seatmate and friend, Y/N Y/L/N.

Y/N Y/L/N. Your name was perfect.

The way your name rolled off his tongue felt just right. The way your nose would scrunch as you focused on sketching the naked dude who had to pose in front of everyone. The way you would tilt your head when the professor never made sense with his discussions.

Everything about you was just so… perfect.

You were kind-hearted, considerate, and intelligent. Your humor was unmatched and you were very enthusiastic when you conversed with Jungkook. From a small crush, his liking towards you grew into something he couldn’t exactly ignore. He liked you more than he liked to listen to the duet in his head.

Okay… scratch that. Maybe he did like his significant other’s singing voice. It eased his worries after a troublesome day. Admittedly, he had found comfort in it.

If only the universe allowed him to converse with whoever was on the other side, then maybe he didn’t have to loathe this system so much. He could’ve gotten a friend out of it, not a soulmate… but a friend.

Somehow, his thoughts wandered back to you. God, imagine if you were his soulmate. Jungkook would be more than happy if that happened. But he didn’t need the universe to act on his feelings for you. Jungkook will do something… He knew he had to do something about it. He just didn’t know when.

All of his thinking made Jungkook revert to airplane mode, so it was only then that he noticed you concernedly waving your hand in front of his face for a sign of consciousness. He found your scrunched up face painstakingly cute but holy shit… why are you so close? Please don’t be so close. Jungkook would malfunction if you decreased the space between you two even more.

“Are you okay, kook?” You luckily stepped back once he locked eyes with you.

Ah… that sweet voice of yours that could rival the comforting honey-like singing in his head.

“Y-yeah! Sorry, was spacing out,” Jungkook’s words were jumbled as he noticed he was staring at you like a gaping goldfish instead of answering like a normal person.

Your giggles rang throughout the room at his predicament. He crookedly grinned then laughed along. This must be heaven. Your happiness was always contagious and he’d often mirror the smile on your face whenever you were happy.

You made him feel giddy as much as he did on the days he finished his artworks. You made him complete.

But that damn soulmate thing had to ruin it.

How he wished you were his soulmate.

“I thought something happened to you, kook! Mr. Kang dismissed us some time ago but you were still frozen in your seat when everyone left. I was so… worried,” You chuckled, though quite red and hesitant at the end.

Well did that instigate the butterflies in Jungkook’s tummy.

“Concerned for me?” Jungkook teased, it was his go-to response because he couldn’t exactly flirt in straight sentences.

Your eyebrows furrowed but the pink hue became much more evident. Jungkook didn’t even mind the kick you gave him because he made you feel a bit flustered. Success :D

“Taehyungie’s been busy, hasn’t he?” You said, trying to change the subject so everyone could forget the embarrassment.

Taehyung, the theater kid and drama major, was friends with the both of you. He had been busy for the past month because their project was to create a series of plays to showcase to the school. Their show will be on Tuesday, days away from now.

Right! He could invite you to the play.

“He is… Hey,” You tilted your head and hummed when Jungkook’s voice sounded a bit unsure.

“Do you wanna go with me to the play?”

The red on your face and the shy nod you did made him swell in accomplishment. He can’t wait for Tuesday to come.

Fuck. He should’ve waited for Tuesday to come. Now it is Tuesday and he was too nervous to even stand in a five-meter radius near you. Slapping himself to forget the momentary faltering of his confidence, he shakily waited at the foot of your doorstep with an album in his hand.

You two bonded on music and he knew you well enough to know you’d rather have the CD of your favorite artist than some flower that would wilt after awhile. He was right. The beam on your face when he handed over the gift made him so happy that all his nerves were washed away. You always had a way to ease him, even if you weren’t aware.

“M’lady,” He jokingly tried to replicate a british accent as he offered his arm, waiting for you. And as you always would, you took his arm along with an accent-laced, “M’lord,”

Jungkook forgot his worries for a moment and it was always because of you.

You two sat near the stage to support Taehyung with his play. You two remembered him sharing that their play was about a soulmate-driven world with much more darker consequences. It was about the fictional hanahaki disease, he said.

And boy did it feel so sad. Taehyung acted so well, as if he was really losing his character’s best friend onstage. Jungkook peered at you for a moment and saw your eyes glisten as Taehyung’s cries grew louder and louder.

The story was really heartbreaking.

To the point where Jungkook felt the familiar pang on his chest and the song began to play in his head.

How peculiar. His soulmate was sad just as Taehyung’s scene played out. Perhaps they were in the same auditorium as well. But that was impossible. His soulmate was probably watching some soap opera.

Not that he minded. Jungkook had other things to think about, especially how to comfort you as your tears flowed down from the actors’ amazing performance. As slick as he could, he draped an arm around you and let you rest your head on his shoulder. His heart was beating faster than he could comprehend. Even more so, when you scooted closer to him.

Fuck. You were cuddling. Oh my god. Jungkook is gonna die out of happiness.

He had to play it cool though. Jungkook ignored the warmth in his chest and face as he rubbed your arm in consolation. He was surprised you reacted well. Nothing prepared him for what happened next.

You were humming.

You were humming his song.

hOLY SHIT. HOLY SHIT YOU WERE HUMMING HIS SONG.

You… were his soulmate.

Okay universe… Unfuck you, Jungkook guessed. Apparently the universe was on his side after all… All he had to do was somehow tell you…

Jungkook, his face now an uncontrollable red, nervously turned towards you and successfully got your undivided attention. God, he could die then and there. Gathering courage from glob knows where, he smiled and sang the first line of the song.

Universe might have been laughing at him for suddenly changing his views. Jungkook would’ve laughed at himself if he found out the double-back on his opinion. But this was you.

You and your cute nose scrunch, you and your adorable head tilt, you and your witty comebacks.

This was you.

Everything about you was perfect, and he couldn’t believe that the universe liked him enough to grace him with you as his soulmate.

何故こんなにも涙が溢れるの

[Naze, konna ni mo namida ga afureru no]

Your eyes widened as he sang the song that felt like home to the both of you.

ねぇ側にいてそして笑ってよ

[Nee, soba ni ite soshite waratte yo]

You joined in on the singing and everything just made sense. None of the leaving people in the auditorium mattered at the moment.

君のいない未来は色のない世界

[Kimi no inai mirai wa iro no nai sekai]

Jungkook was so happy. It seemed like the world was brighter than before.

モノクロで冷たい

[Monokuro de tsumetai]

He shouldn’t have doubted the universe’s plan. Everything was better with you.

見つめてる暗闇さえも so beautiful

[Mitsumeteru kurayami sae mo so beautiful]

You smiled shyly as your soft honey-like voice harmonized with him.

僕を信じてほしい

[Boku wo shinjite hoshii]

Jungkook’s smile grew wider, encasing your delicate hand in his.

まっすぐに君だけを見て

[Massugu ni kimi dake wo mite]

For once in his life, he was happy and it was better because he was happy with you.

どこにも行かないように

[Doko ni mo ikanai you ni]

You two shared a kiss that afternoon, on a Tuesday, at the university’s auditorium.

permanent taglist: @luvinseokjinnie @97faerie @amoreguk @bbyjoonies @borednia @tanumiki @taescake

[Extra]

Jungkook: Hey Taehyung! Congrats, that play was amazing

Taehyung: ...yeah… but why did you two make out when I died onstage?

You: ahahaha bye.

#bts x reader #bts #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #soulmate au #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #your eyes they tell

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